Sometimes, Jun gets scared. It never lasts long, always a fleeting moment before he shoves it out of his mind and buries it, only for it come back again at random moments in time. He never has time to address it. He’s too busy working on his singing, improving his dancing, and above all, learning Korean.

It was a major risk for Jun to abandon his acting career in China to move out of his comfort zone and into an entirely new country, with a different language, a different culture, and limited opportunities for Jun to see his family. He wouldn’t be able to speak to anyone until he had a basic understanding of Korean. He wouldn’t really be able to see his brother grow up. He wouldn’t be able to be comforted by his parents when times were tough. It had been a difficult decision, but he had felt like it was the right one for him at the time.

And it had been. He had never been so sure of his decision in his life. Despite all the difficulties he had worried about before, the positives balanced out the negatives. He was improving a lot, becoming more confident, making friends, and he couldn’t hold back the tentative hope that he could debut rising in his chest. There was, however, one problem he hadn’t considered before he moved to Korea.

His heart. If it were anything like all the other trainees’ hearts, he wouldn’t have worried about his choice to become a trainee. He would have just hoped that his soulmate was Korean. As it was now, though, there was no room for hope.

It was a pure, vibrant red, the Chinese color of luck. If it were just that, he would have dismissed it as mere coincidence. No, it wasn’t the color that made him worry. It was the shimmering, golden, Chinese characters right in the middle. 我爱你. Wo ai ni. I love you.

That, right there, destroyed all hope.

Junhui began spending nights staring at the ceiling, worrying, praying, debating, contemplating everything, from his decision to become an actor to moving to Korea to the possibility that his soulmate was one of the 1.379 billion people still in China and that the chances of him meeting him had gone from slim to almost nonexistent.

“I think you’re worrying about nothing,” Mingming assures him. It had taken several days for the Chinese trainee to break down his walls and get him to tell him about his worries. He can’t see Junhui’s heart, but Junhui’s described it well enough to understand. “The universe wouldn’t give you a soulmate you wouldn’t meet.”

“How do you know?” Junhui retorts. “How do you know that I’m not supposed to follow a preset path that I diverged from because I’m one of the trillions of flawed humans on this planet and I need to somehow get back on the path in order to find them?”

“Then how do you know you aren’t already on the right path?” Mingming counters. “Or are you getting cold feet, and this is your excuse?”

He isn’t saying it to be mean, but it hurts all the same. “No,” he answers, not mad, but still terrified. “I’m not. I still want to be an idol more than everything. I’m just worried.”

“About what?”

It takes some time for Junhui to really think through his answer and give his friend the honest truth. “Being an idol is my dream,” he says slowly, trying to find the right words, “but it might not be my soulmate’s dream. What if they don’t want to be with an idol? What if my group’s fans hate them because I’m taken? What if they want to hide our relationship forever, and then I screw it up? Then it’s all my fault, because I would be an idol, and being with me would destroy my soulmate.”

Mingming’s face softens. “So that’s what you’re worried about. You’re worried about your dreams being your soulmate’s burden?”

“I can handle my dreams burdening me,” Junhui says, looking down, face drawn, “but I don’t ever want what I want bother what my soulmate wants.”

“Junhui, you know that you can’t sacrifice everything for your soulmate,” the trainee insists gently. “You still need to be you. Your dreams shouldn’t be a burden on your soulmate. And if they are... then maybe you need to reconsider your options.”

His head snaps up. “Reconsider? As in, reconsider staying with my soulmate? The person I’m destined to be with?”

“You mentioned it yourself, humans make choices that this ‘soulmate destiny’ might not be able to fit in,” Mingming reminds him. “And yeah, it can , but in the end, if both parties end up happy with their lives, then it was worth it, right?”

Put that way, Junhui can understand why abandoning a soulmate, even if it was a rather bleak prospect, might be the better option. “I guess,” he concedes. “I just don’t want to think of it.”

His companion shrugs. “Well, you were pretty pessimistic earlier, so I thought I’d bring it up as an option. But let’s not stress out, okay? We’re still young, and who knows what will happen in the future. Let’s just do what makes us happy, and when our soulmates come along, then we’ll see how they fit in our lives. Okay?”

Finally reassured, Junhui nods, and Mingming grins at him.

Junhui’s soulmate comes one year years later. His name is Xu Minghao, and he’s from Anshan. Because they’re in Korea, there are fewer instances of handshaking or hand-to-hand contact. The only reason Junhui realizes Minghao’s his soulmate is when Junhui, being his usual playful self, plays some form of patty cake Hansol taught them on a whim, only with fingers. Eventually, though, it devolves into the original form of patty cake. Their left hands touch, their right hands touch, and then--static. Junhui isn’t expecting it, obviously, so the jolt surprises him, making him take a step back.

“Wha-what?” He stammers, staring wide-eyed at the lithe boy who’s giving him a confused look. The jolt of electricity hadn’t been that strong: it was like the static shock Jun always got when he touched metal after running around on the carpet.

The poor trainee, confused and lost--like he once was--simply stared at him, not comprehending the Korean Junhui was throwing at him.

It’s all too much, all too soon, so Junhui makes a cowardly decision.

He runs.

And his running lasts. For a year, actually. To be fair, it wasn’t like he avoided Minghao for a year: he just got his head in order, put up some walls, and introduced himself to the new Chinese trainee. They quickly become close friends, especially after the tearful departure of Mingming and the rest of them debut as Seventeen, but there’s one caveat: Junhui avoids talking about their first meeting, and why he ran away.

It wasn’t that hard to figure out that Minghao was his soulmate. The zing he got whenever he touched Minghao’s hand wasn’t normal, and when he mentioned it to Soonyoung, whose soulmate Jihoon had just turned eighteen, Soonyoung had given him the answer he needed.

“Oh, that baby lightning? It means that that person’s your soulmate, but they don’t know yet, because they aren’t of age yet. I got that all the time when I was messing around with Jihoon--not like that--and I freaked out for a while before Seungcheol-hyung told me what it was.”

Minghao was his soulmate. Junhui had rejoiced in the knowledge before reality set in: he didn’t know, and he wouldn’t know until he was of age, which wasn’t for a long while. He didn’t want to tell Minghao right away either: he wasn’t sure what his stance was on soulmates (Jihoon had initially been very against it, to Soonyoung’s dismay) and the boy was still adjusting to Korean culture and learning the language and dealing with debut, so it would be cruel of Junhui to dump all this soulmate business on top of everything else.

So he holds it in. For almost a year. He grows closer to the only other Chinese member in SEVENTEEN, but still keeps a part of him hidden, keeps Minghao at arms’ length while holding him close.

The night before Minghao’s birthday, Junhui finds himself on the floor of the practice room, the soon-to-be birthday boy lying next to him.

“Are you excited?” Junhui finds himself asking while staring at the ceiling, not daring to look over at the boy. When he hears Minghao’s head turn to him, and can feel his confused, questioning look, he adds, “for your birthday, Hao Hao.”

“Oh,” he breathes. Then, he makes a little noise. “I don’t know.”

Slightly confused, Junhui props himself up on his elbows, turning to look the boy in the eyes. “What do you mean? You come of age and you get your soulmate heart, what’s not to like?”

“The coming of age doesn’t really mean anything to me,” Minghao says softly, not meeting the older’s eyes. “It’s the soulmate thing that bothers me.”

Junhui’s heart sinks. This is what he’s afraid of, and has been ever since he found out Minghao was his soulmate. Minghao has always been... not afraid of affection, but he isn’t exactly a huge fan of it either. In particular, he seems to hate kisses, regardless of whether or not Minghao was the recipient (or victim) of said kisses.

“Oh... okay,” he begins, struggling to find the right words to soothe the younger. Even if it meant putting his mild heartbreak on hold. “What about soulmates scares you?”

There’s a long pause while Minghao tries to come up with the right words to say. Finally, he gives up, and in Chinese, he says, “The uncertainty of it is what scares me. I don’t know when I’ll find my soulmate, or who my soulmate is. There’s so many people on this planet, and only one of them is my soulmate. What if I never find my soulmate? What if I find them at the worst possible time? What if I find them, and they hate that I’m an idol? What do I do then?”

Junhui manages to contain the nostalgic smile before Minghao sees it and misinterprets it. He’s suddenly brought back to his trainee days, when he had a similar conversation with Mingming. He’s grown since then, but it’s nice to see that he wasn’t the only one to go through this kind of crisis. It’s nice to be able to reassure his soulmate and offer him the same advice Mingming had given him years ago.

“I had the same fear when I first got my heart,” he says in Chinese, leaning back onto the floor. “I was terrified I wouldn’t meet my soulmate because I decided to become and idol. I was terrified of losing my soulmate because I diverged from a preset path, and I was even more terrified that they wouldn’t want to be with an idol.” Minghao’s now the one leaning on his elbows, staring down into Junhui’s face. It does things to him that he can’t verbalize, looking into Minghao’s eyes from below. “Mingming was the one who told me that good soulmates will always fit into your life, no matter what it is. You shouldn’t have to give up on a dream or sacrifice something important to you for your significant other. You aren’t supposed to become someone else for your soulmate.”

“Good soulmates?” Minghao asks, even more nervous than before.

Junhui wonders if he’s actually any good at comforting people, but he still manages to continue, “Some people just don’t work out as soulmates. They aren’t guarantees. We’re human, after all. But even if your soulmate turns out to be bad,” God he hopes he won’t be a bad soulmate, “you’ll always have us. You can’t be lonely if you have the twelve of us. Not to mention your family and friends back home.”

This time, his words actually seem to help, as the expression on Minghao’s face visibly relaxes. “Okay,” he says simply, before flopping back on his back, only this time much closer to Junhui. He can feel the younger’s body heat, and it’s doing more weird things to his body. He glances at the clock in hopes of finding something to distract himself with.

11:58. Two minutes to go.

It’s not enough time, he thinks, and his heart rate picks up, and not just because Minghao’s there. How is he gonna explain himself to Minghao once he finds out he’s his soulmate? Wait, when should he tell Minghao he’s his soulmate? Should he wait for their hands to touch? Should he just avoid him entirely? No, why would he avoid him? Oh, right, because he knew all this time but didn’t mention it. But that was because he was still kinda scared because at the time they were trainees and he had been afraid that the two of them would debut in different bands and then never have enough time to see each other, regardless of whether or not Minghao would find out that he’s his soulmate. But it’s also because he wants Minghao to experience the same rush of curiosity and hope that he felt, because the concept of soulmates was a pretty magical thing and he wanted Minghao to feel that before taking it from him. So, should he tell him right away, or should he wait a bit? What if Minghao turns out to not be Junhui’s soulmate, and it’s just Junhui’s imagination and overwhelming hopefulness manifesting itself into something physical? Should he casually check before telling Minghao? How does one casually check if someone’s one’s soulmate without actually touching their hands? Should he--

Minghao hisses sharply, breaking Junhui out of his inner monologue. Turning, he sees the younger sitting up, clutching his right hand, staring down at the palm with a razor sharp focus. Getting the heart hurts a bit, like getting a tattoo, but it’s also incredibly fascinating, watching the colors paint themselves in. Beauty is pain, indeed.

Junhui can’t do anything to help him, so he just sits up, watching Minghao’s face contort in mild pain for a few moments before it subsides to a curious and endearing expression, almost childlike in nature. “All done, then?” He asks in Korean.

The now-birthday boy nods, still not looking at Junhui. “Hyung, it’s so pretty,” he almost whispers, switching back to Korean in response. “It’s mine.”

Okay, Minghao is doing too many things to his heart that he can’t be anyone other than his soulmate. Also, he just figured out a foolproof plan to see if they’re actually soulmates. Standing up, Junhui turns to face his soon-soulmate and extends a hand, giving him his most heartwarming smile. “C’mon, let’s get back to the dorm. I’m sure everyone wants to celebrate with you.”

Giving him a wide, happy grin, Minghao reaches out to take the hand Junhui’s offering, and--

Lightning, much stronger than the itty bitty static jolt he got the first time, ripples through his veins, making them flare to life with an intensity he has never felt before. It doesn’t just feel like lightning, it also feels like a tidal wave came and knocked him over, and there was a truck in said tidal wave that also hit him at the same time. He’s actually surprised he’s still standing.

Minghao, on the other hand, was halfway upright when he grabbed Junhui’s hand, and he slips, landing hard on his , while still holding Junhui’s hand, pulling him down a little. It’s like their hands are glued together while their senses come alive, and it’s only when the lightning fades away, the tidal wave subsides, and the truck drives away that their hands finally release each other.

“Whoa,” Minghao’s eyes are wide and round, staring up at Junhui with a new look in his eyes, like all the puzzle pieces just snapped into place. He can understand that. Even though he knew this entire time that Minghao was his soulmate, actually feeling it was a different story. It was like the entire world and its mysteries suddenly just made sense, and it feels... enlightening to say the least.

“Jun-hyung,” Minghao tries again, tries to find his voice and his words in order to convey his thoughts to his soulmate. “You’re my soulmate.”

“I know,” is all he offers, smiling gently down at the now-adult.

“How long have you known?” He asks, standing up so that Junhui doesn’t look down on him (knowing Minghao, he probably doesn’t want to feel inferior to the older.)

“Ever since we were trainees,” Junhui explains. “I couldn’t touch your hands without feeling static. I didn’t tell you because we were too young then, and I wasn’t sure if we would debut together, and then I just wanted you to not have to worry about soulmates before you came of age and found out that we were soulmates, which was probably a good thing because you just told me you were scared of soulmates, so I’m sor--” His next words are muffled by Minghao, who just swoops in and kisses him, a soft, sweet, quick peck before he pulls away, just a bit redder. Junhui’s doesn’t know what he’s more affected by, the kiss or the fact that Minghao initiated it.

“I was scared because I didn’t know if I could find someone who made me feel more than you made me feel,” Minghao admits a bit shyly. “I didn’t know if there was anyone out there who could make me feel more.”

The butterflies of hope and optimism and happiness just threaten to overwhelm Junhui, so he lets them free, grinning widely before swooping in himself to wrap his arms around Minghao and pick him up, twirling him in a circle like a cliché TV moment. When he finally sets him down, they’re both woozy to the point where they have to lean on each other and share breathless laughter.

“So, birthday boy,” Junhui says as soon as he catches his breath. “You ready to go home?”

“Yeah,” Minghao nods, and then, shyly, adds, “soulmate.”

At their next comeback, Carats explode when they see the red hearts on Minghao and Junhui’s palm, and some can make out the gold shimmers in the center. It’s only those who take clear photos of the two’s palms when they dance that can see the characters written on their palms, for all the see.

我爱你