just a quick heads up, I know I've mentioned this before, but if you haven't read Strings Attached this might not make a whole lot of sense. Chanyeol and Minseok first meet in the epilogue of that story, and Strings Cut picks up after that :)

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A white chocolate mocha. That’s what he drank. Tall, handsome Park Chanyeol with a voice that curled Minseok’s insides the way the scent of coffee curled from their cups. A sweet drink, sugary on the lips, the way Minseok thought kissing Chanyeol might taste. His own black coffee sat bitter in front of him, the beans slightly burnt and smell acrid, curdling the air. Despite it, Minseok couldn’t bring himself to care. Not when his soulmate was sitting across from him in a Starbucks, frowning, jaw clenched so tight a vein popped out in his neck. 

“What did you just say?” Minseok asked as his hands drew tighter around his cup. He wasn’t sure he’d heard his soulmate correctly. He couldn’t have. There was no way.

But Chanyeol didn’t hesitate, didn’t even blink. “I’m not interested in being your soulmate.” Minseok heard a gavel in his words.

It was like time stopped. The statement crashed in Minseok’s ears, rushing through his head and wiping his mind blank. Rejection was, well, uncommon. Especially among soulmates. He’d already waited four years, watching his friends find their special someones one after the other after the other. First Kyungsoo. Then Jongdae and Yixing. Even Baekhyun had found his match, a tiny girl named Irene who talked just as much as him and twice as fast. They were terrifying together. But still Minseok had waited, turning twenty-one, then twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, every year blowing out the candles and wondering when he would get his happily ever after too.

He’d thought he’d finally have a chance at that when he met Chanyeol at Yixing’s senior exhibit. Chanyeol had been so polite then, so kind, so awkwardly funny. He’d introduced himself like a true fan, fancy camera hung like a medal around his neck and hand outstretched in a desperate attempt to meet his idol. He’d laughed, nodded, introduced himself to everyone. When Yifan had frozen, interrupting the moment with a “holy hell, Min. He’s your soulmate,” he’d ducked his head. When Chanyeol refused to meet his eyes Minseok took it as shyness and found it cute. Looking back, the motion wasn’t shyness. But then what was it? Minseok let himself wonder. Was it shame? Guilt? Disgust? Was Minseok really that terrible a match?

‘Look.” Minseok snapped his head up, wide eyes meeting Chanyeol’s. His soulmate shuffled in his seat, his fingers skimming up and down the sides of his cup. “That sounded really rude. I’m sorry.”

Minseok couldn’t keep up. Talking with Chanyeol felt like whiplash, one second heartbreak and the next hope. He let out a choked laugh. “You’re sorry?”

Chanyeol nodded, reaching up to adjust his red beanie so that it sat close over his ears, strands of curly hair poking out from beneath the brim. “It’s just, I’m busy. And well, not interested in you.” Chanyeol sat a little straighter, meeting Minseok’s eyes. “You’re not what I need. You’re a businessman. You wear suits. You live on the east coast. And I’m well, I’m none of those things. I’m a photographer, and artist. I live in LA. I’m creative. I need someone who can get excited about art with me. Someone who cares about beauty.” A grimace twisted Chanyeol’s lips, so slightly that Minseok would have missed it if he hadn’t been watching him so intently. He swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing. Sweat beaded a bit at his temples. For a second Minseok thought Chanyeol might still be willing to give him a chance, but then Chanyeol continued. “I’m sorry Minseok. I don’t need a guy in a tie.”

Minseok coughed. It felt like slime had settled in his throat, making every breath feel like drowning. He couldn’t respond. Instead he just stared, watched the way Chanyeol’s eyes darted from side to side and his hands played with the now shredded plastic lid of his coffee.

Chanyeol stood then. “I’m uh, if you don’t have anything to say. Um. Yeah. Look, I’m just going to go?” He turned away. The tension had both of them wound up, ready to spring, like guitar strings so tight that if you played them they would snap. Chanyeol walked away, nodded to the barista and threw away his cup. The door clanged shut behind him. Minseok couldn’t move. Couldn’t stop him. Couldn’t even call out. Instead he sat, wondering how it all went wrong.

It had started with black coffee. It was boring, Minseok knew. But he found comfort in it, loved the taste of it on his tongue and the way the warmth of every sip trickled through his insides till all of him felt cozy. They’d talked about it at the exhibition, the differences in their drinks. Chanyeol liked sweet and Minseok liked bitter. That conversation had become an invitation to go get coffee before Chanyeol’s flight back to LA.

He’d arrived early, ordered his coffee and nestled deeper into the worn leather of the couch. From where he sat he could see his soulmate walk in and head to the counter buy his drink. Something he said made the barista laugh, a pretty, gentle sound. The man laughed too, and Minseok’s toes curled at the deep tone. Park Chanyeol. How strange, Minseok had thought, to finally know who his soulmate was after so long being without one. He’d almost begun to think he’d never find his soulmate, despite what he told his friends when they asked.

Chanyeol received his coffee from the blushing barista—Minseok could almost swear she gave him a larger size than he’d ordered—and turned to the rest of the coffee shop, scanning it with his eyes. Minseok waved his hand, trying to get his soulmate’s attention. Chanyeol saw him and his eyes lit up, face cracking into a goofy grin as he made his way over.

“Minseok! You’re here!”

“Of course,” Minseok grinned back. “It’s not every day I get to have coffee with my soulmate.”

There’s a brief stutter in Chanyeol’s step before he sits. “Yeah. True. Though I can’t say that Starbucks is that special.”

“Hey,” Minseok raised an eyebrow. “You’re the one who has to get on a plane and wanted to meet at a coffeeshop near the airport. We could’ve gone to Vincent.”

“Vincent?”

“Yeah,” Minseok leaned forward, mock-conspiratorially. “Yixing works there.”

“Wait really?” Chanyeol sat up. “At a coffee shop, really?”

Minseok laughed. “Really. I mean I don’t know for how much longer since he’s headed to China soon, but he’s worked there for the past two years. A lot of the paintings on the walls are his.”

“Wow,” Chanyeol breathed. “That’s so dope. Dang I wish I was staying longer. That’d be fun to see.”

“You really are a fan, aren’t you?” Minseok leaned back in his seat, bringing his coffee to his lips and breathing in the scent. He felt cozy and warm, sitting across from Chanyeol.

Chanyeol nodded eagerly. “He’s such a talented artist. I mean, sure he does predominantly paintings and not photography, but he’s an absolute wizard with lighting and perspective. And honestly, he creates such emotional pieces. Like Reaching. Have you seen Reaching? I saw it in a magazine like a year ago. I never forgot it.”

Minseok nodded, the corners of his lips twisting into a wry smile. “Reaching is hard to forget.”

“Seriously though,” Chanyeol agreed, putting his coffee down, resting his hands on his knees. “I wish I could come up with stuff like that.”

“It’s based on his soulmate.”

“What?” Chanyeol sat up, his eyes wide and focused on Minseok. “What do you mean?”

“I mean what I said,” Minseok shrugged. “Yixing and his soulmate had a really rough time getting together. He painted Reaching then.”

“Ah.” Chanyeol was quiet for a bit after that.

Minseok shook his head trying to force himself out of his thoughts. There was no point in reliving the good moments. The rejection stayed the same either way. The beginnings of an ache just started to make themselves known at his temples. He ignored it, pulling out his phone to text Jongdae.

Min (3:23 pm): I need a beer.

Roommate Dae (3:24 pm): I’m with Yixing…

Min (3:24 pm):  I know you’re in love but seriously I need a beer. Like right now. And if you don’t come then I’m going to a bar by myself and I refuse to be responsible for any choices I make.

Roommate Dae (3:26 pm): Aren’t you supposed to be with your soulmate?

Min (3:26 pm): Seriously?

Minseok loved Jongdae a lot, but ever since his roommate had found his soulmate, he’d been a bit hard to be around. Besides, since he’d become so happy with Yixing, Jongdae liked to believe that everyone else would have as equally wonderful endings. Minseok huffed at his phone. There was a ding. One new message.

Roommate Dae (3:29 pm): This is Yixing. Jongdae is putting his pants back on. Where do you want him to meet you? Do you need to be picked up?

Min (3:30 pm): I drove. Tell him to meet me at the bar on Main.

Roommate Dae (3:31 pm): ok

Minseok stood, picking up his coat from the coach and shrugging into it. He could barely feel the flannel. His skin felt numb. He wasn’t wearing a suit, he realized. He didn’t have a tie on. Somehow, that felt important to him. Relevant. Like it was something he needed to remember later. Minseok didn’t write it down. Instead he picked up his cup, still half full with cold black coffee that looked like mud in the bottom. He threw the whole thing out, ignoring the liquid that sloshed out and into the trash bag. He headed for the door. Halfway out some one stopped him. The barista.

“Excuse me? Excuse me, Sir?” she asked.

 Minseok turned around, ready to apologize for the coffee. She was blushing. He paused.

“Sorry.” She smiled. Minseok looked at her nametag. Elizabeth. She was a pretty girl. Curly brown hair. Tan. Blue eyes. “I hate to bother you, but that man you just left with,” she looked down at her shoes, trailing off. She mumbled something Minseok couldn’t hear.

“What?”

She blushed harder. “maybe could yougivemehisnumber?”

“What.” Minseok stared at the girl. She looked at her hands.

“Please?” She tilted her head, looked up at Minseok through her lashes.

Minseok didn’t move. He took a deep breath. Tried to calm himself. Smiled. “No Elizabeth, I cannot give you his number.”

“What?” The girl looked heartbroken. Minseok ignored her and swept out the door. It wasn’t until he was halfway to the bar he’d agreed to meet Jongdae at that he realized that even if he’d wanted to, he couldn’t have given the barista Chanyeol’s phone number. He didn’t know it. Chanyeol never gave it to him. The though settled sour in his stomach.

When he got the bar he ordered shots instead of beer, and was already drunk when Jongdae arrived a half hour later. Jongdae found him quickly, pulled him away from the bartender, groaned, hoisted Minseok over his shoulder, forced him into his car and texted Yixing.

Dae (4:17 pm): it’s waaaay worse than we thought

Dimples (4:18 pm): oh?

Dae (4:19 pm): I don’t know-_- he’s super smashed. bartend said he ordered four shots and apparently downed all of them in a minute? Which would be fine if he wasn’t such a lightweight. But he is. And then he ordered two more shots. I’m taking him home. Come over with hangover soup in a bit?

Dimples (4:20 pm): ok. Will do.

Dimples (4:20 pm): also #420blazeit. Ily <3

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welllllllll, here we go, on to the next angsty instalment of of the StringsAU!

I hope you're as excited as I am^^  this story will be better than Strings Attached in my personal opinion. Let me know what you think!

Jay