Mondays worse than usual lately, Minseok thought, shaking his head as he tried to clear the buzzing from his ears. He rested his head against the wall, letting its coolness seep into his skin as the printer slowly chugged out the copies he needed. Forty-seven. His boss needed forty-seven copies. Something about some meeting with a potential new investor that Minseok was pretty sure he’d have to be present for.

His stomach turned uncomfortably. Minseok swallowed. He wanted to pass it off on nerves, but he’d been in investor meetings before and never got nervous. All he had to do was look smart, present his information, and answer any questions asked. As long as he made a good impression—which he pretty much always did—he’d be in the clear. Behind Minseok the printer quieted, the copies finished. He huffed, gathering the papers and taking them to his desk. He’d drop them off with his boss later.

The chair squeaked as he sat back down, trying to focus on the spreadsheet laid out in front of him. His head pounded, and Minseok could’ve sworn the boxes swam on the screen. He slumped, rubbing his forehead in exasperation. The clock tick-tick-ticked on the wall, the only sound that managed to cut through the buzzing in his ears. Tick-tick-tick in his head, over and over, like a hammer to an anvil in his brain. Everything throbbed.

11:17 pm. Almost lunchtime. If he wanted he could even take an early lunch. Perks of being salaried, instead of working for hourly pay. It almost made wearing the suit worth it, Minseok chuckled to himself. He loosened his tie, still trying to alleviate the strange pressure in his throat as he focused again on his spreadsheet. His phone buzzed.

Roommate Dae (11:18 am): are we still on for lunch?

Ah. Minseok forgot about lunch. He frowned down at his phone, not sure if he could sit across from Jongdae for an hour while his roommate waxed poetic about Yixing. His temples throbbed at the prospect. But food. Food might help the headache, Minseok thought. He couldn’t remember if he’d eaten breakfast or not, but judging on how he currently felt he guessed he didn’t. The buzzing in his ears got louder.

“Minseok. Hey, Min,” the voice echoed, as if it came from far away. “Min, Minseok, hey dude you in there? Bro.” a hand waved in front of his face. Minseok flinched back, forcing himself to focus on the blonde man bouncing on the balls of his feet in front of him.

“David.”

“Man, dude,” David grinned, straightening up. Minseok groaned as David stood, noticing his co-worker’s neon green, social-offense of a tie. The color of it burned his retinas. “Dude, you were zoned. Like hella zoned. So far gone. Like you went back to China in your mind.”

Minseok rolled his eyes. “I’m Korean David.”

The rebuff barely phased him. “Fine. Korea then man. Either way. The point is you were spaced. Full on astronaut zero-G . You all right?”

It took Minseok a second to process the question. “I’m fine David, just tired.”

David leaned back on his heels. “You look a little more than tired, but hey mate, whatever you say. Haley!” Minseok watched as the energetic man called over the intern, a polite, mousey woman who was going into her senior year of university. She was holding a burrito.

“Can I help you?”

“Yeah,” David smiled, a sloppy, wide affair of teeth and unbridled arousal. Minseok felt bad for Haley, just a bit. “You can tell if people are sick, right?”

“Yeah?” She looked confused. Minseok did not like where this was going.

“Check on Min for me. He says he’s just tired but I don’t believe him.” Minseok grimaced. He would have argued back if his throat hadn’t felt so dry.

“Um, okay.” Haley glanced at Minseok, visibly nervous. “Is it all right if I at least check for a fever, Mr. Kim?”

Minseok nodded, too tired and in pain to argue. David cackled behind him. Haley smiled gently, leaning forward to place the back of her hand against his forehead. For a moment everything was fine. But then Minseok smelled it. The burrito. It made his stomach churn and suddenly the nausea that had spent most of the morning flirting with his esophagus became unbearable and it was all Minseok could do to turn away from Haley and towards his trashcan. Fortunately, he made it.

Haley and David recoiled. “ fever, you’re definitely sick man. You should go home.”

Minseok wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, not arguing. Both David and Haley backed away, David waving his hands in front of him as if the germs were floating away from Minseok and into the air. Minseok scoffed.

“It’s nice to know you’re concerned David.”

“Yeah,” David backed even further away, out of Minseok’s cubicle. “Super concerned. Um you should go home?”

“I will David,” Minseok straightened. He reached across his desk to close out of the spreadsheet he’d been looking at and shut down his computer. He packed his laptop into his bag. David continued to hover just outside Minseok’s cube. “Um,” Minseok asked, “do you need something still?”

“Oh, oh no.” David waved his hands hurriedly in front of him. “I’ll just be going now.” He turned to Haley. “Come on, let’s go.” She nodded and followed David down the hall, her grey skirt swishing behind her. Minseok watched the two go, vaguely wondering if Haley actually found David attractive or if she just followed him around because he was interesting and older and didn’t make her work as hard as Kendall—the other manager—would. His phone buzzed again.

Roommate Dae (11:26 am): Min?

“Oh ,” Minseok groaned, picking his phone off his desk.

Min (11:28 am): Sorry Dae. I’m not feeling good. Raincheck?

Roommate Dae (11:29 am): sure man. everything good?

Min (11:29 am): yeah. I’m good. Just a little sick.

Roommate Dae (11:30 am): ok. Lemme know if you need anything? I’ll be home sometime after 8ish tonight.

Min (11:31 am): sounds good. Buy some saltines?

Roommate Dae (11:33 am): will do

Minseok sagged in his chair, closing his eyes. His head throbbed. The ringing in his ears was insufferable. His throat scratched. Everything ached. Behind him, the clock still ticked. Tick. Tick. Tick. Slowly. Methodically. Tick. Tick.

Minseok forced himself to stand. “All right Min,” he muttered. “Let’s go home. Come on. Don’t fall asleep in your chair.” He gathered all his things together, shrugging into his coat. As he left the building he kept his head down. His footsteps wavered, and the blueish grey carpet rippled at his feet. He staggered. Minseok scoffed, he probably looked like a drunk to the people he passed by.

By the time he made it to his car Minseok was afraid he would fall over. He collapsed into his seat, fastening his seatbelt and shaking the water out of his hair. The weather was drizzly, one of those odd, almost-summer showers where the rain wasn’t cold, but everything grew damp and sluggishness settled heavy in the mind. He grimaced. Would it be possible for him to drive home? He didn’t know. He kicked his seat back, opting to take a brief nap before leaving. Maybe if he gave it a few hours he could even skip the lunch traffic while still beating rush hour.

Minseok woke with a start, confused for a moment where he was. Everything was dark, his back hurt, and nearby he could hear the sound of cars zooming past. His car? He was in his car. Minseok groaned, remembering laying down for a nap. He’d set an alarm for 3:30 pm. Why hadn’t he woken up? He reached for his phone, surprised to see he had over twelve messages and at least three missed calls. All of them were from Jongdae except one. That one was from Yixing.

Roommate Dae (7:43 pm): hey I’ll be home soon.

Roommate Dae (8:04 pm): I’m home where are you?

Roommate Dae (8:09 pm): Min?

Roommate Dae (8:39 pm): Miiiiiiin

Roommate Dae (9:00 pm): seriously dude where are you?

Roommate Dae (9:02 pm): Are you okay?

Roommate Dae (9:03 pm): Min. Text me back.

Roommate Dae (9:04 pm): Min.

Roommate Dae (9:04 pm): you can’t just disappear when you’re not feeling good I’m scared you collapsed or something.

Missed Call—Jongdae Kim (9:05 pm)

Xing (9:16 pm): Dae just called me and he doesn’t know where you are? Is everything good?

Roommate Dae (9:16 pm): Minseok what the

Roommate Dae (9:17 pm): I’m worried damn it

Missed Call—Jongdae Kim (9:18 pm)

Missed Call—Jongdae Kim (9:19 pm)

Roommate Dae (9:20 pm): Kim Minseok

Minseok groaned, scrolling back up to the top. 9:21 pm. He’d slept for more than nine hours. In his car. In a parking lot. No wonder Jongdae was worried. His phone like up again. His roommate. Minseok accepted the call.

“I’m alive.”

“You better ing be,” Jongdae’s voice crackled over the phone. “Where the are you? I came home an hour and a half ago and I couldn’t find you anywhere. And you weren’t answering your phone. What the hell?”

“I was asleep Jongdae.” Minseok switched his phone to speaker, setting down his phone on the seat next to him to get the sleep out of his eyes.

“Asleep?” Jongdae’s tone went flat. “You expect me to believe that?”

“I’m not lying Dae.” Minseok picked the phone back up, taking it out of speaker mode again. “I was going to go home earlier but I fell asleep in my car. I thought I set an alarm but I must’ve forgot? I just woke up.”

There was silence at the other end. Then, “Oh damn. You must be really sick.”

“Huh?”

“If you could sleep through me spamming your phone then you’re definitely sick. Where are you now?”

“Um, work?” Minseok looked out his window. “Yeah, definitely work. Why?”

“Yifan is going to come get you. Remember he was coming into town tonight to visit?”

“Yifan, wait, what? He’s coming to get me?”

Jongdae huffed over the phone. “Yes Minseok. I can’t because I have a meeting tonight, in like ten minutes. I’m walking to it now. But Yifan has my car. He’ll be there to pick you up in a bit.”

“But what about my car?”

“Yifan and I can go grab it tomorrow. You’re clearly not well, and I’m making you go to the doctor tomorrow, so plan to call in sick, okay?”

“I can’t call in sick.”

“I don’t care. If you’re sick enough to fall asleep in your car then you’re sick enough to take a day off.”

“But Jongdae,” Minseok whined.

“But nothing. You’re going to the doctor. Remember last time I didn’t make you go? And you ended up with pneumonia?” Minseok stayed quiet, feeling properly cowed. “Yeah,” Jongdae continued. “We’re not doing that again. Besides,” Jongdae’s tone softened. “It’ll give you a chance to hang out with Yifan. You guys haven’t seen each other in a while.”

Minseok sighed. “Fine. I’ll call in sick.”

“Good.” Minseok could hear Jongdae’s grin through the phone. “Anyway, I have to go now Min, but Yifan is on his way. I’ll be home sometime between ten thirty and eleven, okay?”

“Okay,” Minseok replied. “Bye Dae.”

“Bye.”

Click.

Minseok sagged back into his seat, throwing his phone across the console. He hated being sick. It . He’d have to stay in bed and sleep and he wouldn’t be able to work and by the time he actually got better he’d have so much piled up to do that he’d be hopelessly busy for the entire month after. Ugh. His phone buzzed again. Yifan.

“Hello?”

“Hey Seok. Where you at? I just pulled into your parking lot but I don’t see you.”

“I’m in the back, kind of in the far corner away from the road and towards the EP Building. One sec I’ll turn my lights on.” He reached over and turned his key. His car revved to life.

“Oh sweet. I see you. Be there in a sec.”

“Oka, bye.”

“Bye.”

Minseok hung up, watching Jongdae’s beat up Subaru slowly make its way towards him. It was nice of Yifan to come pick him up, Minseok thought, especially since he was technically on vacation. Taking care of sick friends wasn’t exactly a good time, especially right after a long flight. Yifan was probably hungry and tired. Minseok vaguely hoped that Jongdae had fed him.

The Subaru pulled up next to Minseok’s car and parked. A few seconds later Yifan got out in all his lanky glory, bending in a way that looked rather uncomfortable to pull of the seatbelt. He knocked on Minseok’s window, gesturing that Minseok should get out. Minseok obliged, grabbing his briefcase and his coat before stumbling out of his car. Yifan caught him before Minseok hit the ground, placing a surreptitious hand against his forehead.

“. Minseok you’re hot. And not in the attractive way.”

“Rude,” Minseok shot back. Yifan rolled his eyes, hoisting Minseok to his feet and all but dragging him to the passenger side of Jongdae’s car. “how long have you felt sick?”

“Since this morning?” Minseok leaned against the side of the car, feeling around for the handle. Yifan huffed and opened it for him.

“Get in,” he said, nudging Minseok towards his seat. “And since this morning Seok? You don’t sound sure.”

“I don’t know,” Minseok replied, his speech beginning to slur. “It’s kind of hard to remember. I think I felt bad this morning? I know I threw up at lunch. And then I fell asleep?”

“Oh god.” Yifan shut Minseok’s door before walking around to get in the driver’s seat. “Do you have your car keys?”

“Car keys?”

“Yes Seok, to lock your car. So no one breaks into it overnight.”

“Ohhhh, yeah I have them.”

“Good.” Yifan held out his hand. “Give them to me.”

“To you? Why?” Minseok stuck his hand in his coat pocket, clutching at the keys. “Are you going to break into my car?”

Yifan stared soullessly at the road. “No Minseok. I’m going to lock it. Now give me your keys.”

“Fine.” The keys jangled as he handed them over, Yifan accepting them gratefully. He pushed a button and Minseok’s car beeped twice.

“Perfect,” Yifan said. “Now we can go. Are you buckled?” once he got a nod of affirmation Yifan smiled. “Good. Let’s boogie.”

The next morning hit hart. Minseok woke with a headache like a hangover, but minus any positive memories from the night before. He wandered out of his room only because he smelled bacon, and because could hear Jongdae speaking to someone in that happy, animated way of his that he got when he was excited to see a person. Though if anyone had asked, he only came out for the bacon.

In the kitchen he found Jongdae, Yixing, and Yifan. Granted, Yixing wasn’t much of a surprise. His presence was a constant around their apartment, even more so now that Yixing had decided to go back to China while Jongdae finished up his senior year. He hadn’t even left yet and Jongdae had decided he missed him already. Minseok would think it was cute, if he didn’t have to see it all the damn time.

Yifan was a bit more of a surprise. Sure, Minseok knew he was in town. He even vaguely remembered him driving him home. But he’d assumed that Yifan was staying with Yixing, or someone else from their friend circle. It made no sense for him to be in Minseok’s kitchen so early in the morning. Unless.

“What time is it?”

“Minseok!” Jongdae grinned. “You’re awake. We thought you were going to sleep the whole day!” His voice made Minseok’s head pound.

Yixing spoke just a bit quieter. “It’s roughly eleven Minseok.”

“Eleven?” Minseok wasn’t sure he could believe it. “In the morning?”

“Yup.” Yifan clapped Minseok on the back. “You were sleeping hard too. I had to carry you out of the car last night you were so tired.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” Jongdae handed Minseok a cup of tea. “You’re lucky Yifan’s strong honestly. I probably would’ve just left you there. I mean you’re clearly comfortable sleeping in cars.” Yixing nudged him, hissing something about being nice.

“I’m late for work,” Minseok groaned, placing his tea down on the counter, “and I didn’t call in sick. This is bad.”

“I called in sick for you.”

Minseok looked at Yixing in pleasant surprise. “Really?” The artist nodded, and Minseok felt a sudden gush of love for the man. Leave it to his roommate’s overly sensible soulmate to be the one to remember that. Jongdae definitely wouldn’t, and Yifan, being self-employed, had no need to even consider it. If he was sick he just didn’t show up for a day, easy.

“Your manager said to go to the doctor. I think his name was David?”

Minseok wanted to groan. Of course, David would say that. “It’s probably too late for me to get an appointment today.”

“It’s not,” Jongdae shot back, ignoring his roommate’s look of concern. “I scheduled one for you. Called earlier this morning. They said they can fit you in at two thirty.”

“Oh,” Minseok said. He looked down at his hands. They shook. “I can’t wait.” He reached over for his tea, drinking it down in big gulps. It scalded his tongue. Minseok ing hated doctors.

It was, decidedly, just as terrible as Minseok thought it would be.

First off, everything smelled like bleach. Minseok might as well have just cleaned a toilet. And then there was the paintings. Why did doctor’s offices always have subpar nature paintings that looked like they came from Goodwill on the walls? Minseok grimaced, staring at the painting across the room from him—two ducks in a muddy river that looked vaguely like overcooked bacon. It made him uncomfortable. The door into the office creaked open and a nurse in pink scrubs walked out into the waiting room. She picked up a clipboard.

“Mr. Kim?”

“Uh, that’s me.” Minseok stood too quickly, his chair hitting the back of his knees and thudding against the wall with a dull clunking sound. The sniffling woman sitting three chairs down shot him a dirty look. Minseok nodded to her with an apologetic smile.

“Follow me please Mr. Kim.” She opened the door into the office, ushering Minseok through. “Please step up on the scale Mr. Kim.” She waited for a few seconds. Minseok stepped up where she directed him, trying not to watch the numbers count. “Mr. Kim?” The nurse sounded uncomfortable.

“Yes?” Minseok asked.

“Did you always weigh ninety-two pounds?”

“What?” Minseok looked from the nurse to the scale. 92.3 lb. “What the hell.” His voice trailed off.

“This isn’t normal?”

“No,” Minseok said, stepping off the scale in a daze. “I’m usually around 105.”

“Ah, well, follow me please.” The nurse ushered Minseok to a room where she sat him down on a table. She took his temperature. His blood pressure. Some blood. Apparently for a test? Minseok didn’t know. The nurse told him when she took it but he was busy focusing on reading the small text on the needle disposal box so he didn’t hear her. Needles terrified him. “That should be all.” The nurse smiled, gathering the blood samples she’d taken. “The doctor will be by in a few minutes. There’s magazines over there if you want one.” She gestured to a small table in the corner where Minseok could see an outdated copy of Men’s Fitness peeking out at him. She door clicked shut definitively behind her, and Minseok found himself alone in a painfully silent room.

He sat still for a minute. Then he leaned back against the pillow. He sat back up again. The paper covering the table crinkled with his movements. He swung his feet. Laid back down again. He pulled out his phone.

Min (3:13 pm): this .

Dragon Ball (3:14 pm): the doctor?

Min (3:14 pm): No, my vacuum. YES of course the doctor.

Dragon Ball (3:15 pm): It can’t be thaaat bad.

Dragon Ball (3:15 pm): Also, are you close to done? I dropped you off almost an hour ago.

Min (3:16 pm): It’s terrible. And no. I still need to see the doc. They didn’t even call me till almost 3.

Dragon Ball (3:17 pm): dang dude. That does . I’m almost done with errands and then I’ll be back. Just come out when you’re done. We can go get shakes or something after. Soft serve maybe?

Min (3:17 pm): sounds good. gtg doc is here.

Minseok stuffed his phone back into his pocket, reaching out to shake the doctor’s hand. She was elderly, with purple-rimmed glasses perched and greying hair that curled around her temples. Her nametag read Dr. Claire Windes.

“Mr. Min, you seem to be fit as a fiddle,” she greeted, her hand grasping papering and soft around Minseok’s own. “Obviously,” she continued, “that’s ignoring your concerning weight and the symptoms that you have described to us. Sit down please.” She gestured back to the table. Minseok obediently sat. “We’ve done some blood tests,” Dr. Windes began, pushing her glasses up on her face, “and frankly Mr. Kim, I’m concerned.”

Minseok clasped his hands in front of him, leaning forward. “Um, can I ask why?”

“I will be blunt with you Mr. Kim. You have what appears to be a soulmate tattoo on this inside of your wrist. Have you just met this Park Chanyeol recently?”

“Recently?” Minseok couldn’t track where the conversation was headed.

“Yes,” the doctor nodded. “for the first time.”

“Um, yes? A few weeks ago anyway.”

Dr. Windes tilted her head to the side, an expression of something that looked scarily like pity on her face. “Did he reject you?”

“How do you know that?”

“Mr. Kim,” the doctor said, leaning back in her seat, “what I’m about to tell you is not commonly supported in the strictly scientific circles. However, I do believe that given the circumstances, and your overall health in the recent weeks given the timeline of your first interaction with your soulmate, it has validity. Are you familiar with the biological elements of a soulmate connection?”

“Um, you get more attached to them, and can get kind of tired if you’re not around them a lot, and if they reject you you get kind of spacey and depressed?”

The doctor nodded. “In most cases you’d be correct. You see, there seems to be, beyond the emotional connection, a deeper connection that exists between soulmates that science cannot yet understand. What we do know, is that rejection can sometimes have terrible, terrible consequences.”

Minseok shifted in his seat. “Terrible consequences like what?”

The doctor smiled, a tight, uncomfortable smile that seemed more like a grimace really. “Well, you tell me Mr. Kim. You seem to be dealing with them?”

“What?”

The doctor swallowed, suddenly looking very sad. “You heard me.”

Minseok scoffed, unable to believe it. “You mean that this, and how I’ve been feeling, all of it, is because I’ve been rejected by my soulmate?” Dr. Windes, looking chastened, nodded. Minseok looked away. “I can’t believe it. This is bull. Aren’t soulmates supposed to be a good thing?”

Dr. Windes leaned forward, placing a warm hand on Minseok’s knee. “They are. Truly. Soulmates are a gift. Don’t think they’re not.” Minseok brushed her hand away. He took a deep breath, letting it out heavily, his eyes closed, letting himself gather his thoughts. The doctor didn’t say anything while he sat there. Nor did she try to touch him. Minseok opened his eyes, his face set and manner noticeably calmer.

“Can I die from this?”

“Can you what?”

“Die from this.” Minseok crossed his arms. “You’re the doctor. I don’t know anything about this, so tell me what I need to know.”

“I see.” Dr. Windes sat back, pulling her glasses off briefly to clean them before placing them again on her face. “Well Mr. Kim, you can. Worst case scenario, you can always die. Fortunately, that’s unlikely.” Minseok sighed in relief. The doctor pursed her lips. “However, your symptoms will likely get worse, the longer the rejection lasts. Chances are very good that you will not be able to work for much longer, especially if the job that you do requires long hours, lots of thinking, or labor.”

“So basically, any job.”

The doctor, to her credit, did not comment on the obvious bitterness in Minseok’s tone. “Yes, Mr. Kim. Basically any job. May I be blunt?”

“Please,” Minseok said, gesturing toward her. “It’s unlikely the news can get worse.”

“Good.” The doctor adjusted the way she sat, her back becoming straighter, her presence suddenly feeling much more formidable. Minseok subconsciously shrunk away, as if there were a lion in the room. “You will get worse Mr. Kim. Likely much worse. You will need lots of sleep. You will likely be nauseas most of the time. The ringing in your ears you complained about? That will also become more consistent. You will get weak. You will lose weight, because the smell of food will probably make you sick. You will want to eat a lot of bland things that are high in calories. If it becomes truly bad, you will need an IV. You will not be able to focus for long periods of time. And, there is no way to cure it. You may be able to treat the symptoms, but unless Park Chanyeol decides to no longer reject you or you can find a way to cut off your connection with him, you will not get better. Your life is about to get very hard Mr. Kim.”

Minseok stared, slowly trying to digest what he’d just heard. Finally, he broke the silence.

“So, what do I do?”

Dr. Wildes’ expression softened. “Find good friends Mr. Kim. Someone who will take care of you if necessary. Your life is about to get very hard. You will need help.” Minseok nodded. “And,” she continued, “I will give you my number. Please, let me know if you need help with anything else. I can take care of you here, but should you for any reason need to find a new doctor, I can at least make sure to connect you with someone who acknowledges the harm that soulmate rejection can do.”

Minseok stood, feeling unsteady on his feet, from the information or his condition he wasn’t sure. “Thank you for your time.”

Dr. Wildes nodded, standing as well to shake Minseok’s hand. “Of course Mr. Kim. Best of luck. Do you know how to get back to the waiting room?”

“I can find it.”

“All right, I’ll leave you on your own then. I need to finish up some paperwork.” She handed him a card. “This is my business number. I’ve written my personal cell on the back. Do let me know if you need anything.”

Minseok nodded. “I will. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.” She smiled as she held the door open for him. Minseok couldn’t find it in himself to smile back. He pulled out his phone as he walked into the waiting room.

Min (3:42 pm): I’m done.

Dragon Ball (3:42 pm): I’m in the parking lot. You figure out what’s wrong?

Min (3:43 pm): yeah

Dragon Ball (3:44 pm): well that’s good, right?

Min (3:44 pm): Not really

Dragon Ball (3:45 pm): What do you mean?

Min: (3:46 pm): I’m ed Yifan.

Dragon Ball (3:46 pm): is it cancer?

Min (3:47 pm): no

Dragon Ball (3:47 pm): at least that’s one good thing?

In Los Angeles, Chanyeol put his ham sandwich down. For some reason it wasn’t sitting well with him today. Maybe the meat was bad? Whatever it was, it upset his stomach. Across the room the models he worked with were getting their makeup done for the fourth shoot of the day—some type of outerwear ad Chanyeol knew he could shoot with his eyes closed and one hand tied behind his back. The idea of it curdled his stomach. He was above petty advertisements. He knew it. He just needed a chance to prove himself.

PCY (3:47 pm): any updates on galleries?

Joon (3:51 pm): not yet. I just started reaching out though. Your portfolio is good. You don’t need to worry.

PCY (3:52 pm): K. Keep me updated.

Joon (4:02 pm): I will. Stop stressing.

Chanyeol stood, slipping his phone into his back pocket. He clapped. “Let’s get started,” he announced, causing a few or the models to stick their tongues out at him. He snorted, directing his next statement at one of them, a particularly handsome blonde model named Charlie. “Oh please, you’ve had plenty of time to flirt with the girls. You can pose for a few minutes and survive.” Charlie responded by flashing a middle finger. Chanyeol ignored him. Instead, he leaned over to one of his lights guys.

“Are you ready?”

The man nodded, picking up a large reflective board. On the other side of the room, stylists dressed models in brightly colored coats and hats while a few miscellaneous people made sure the set showed the perfect cabin scene. Chanyeol hated this part of the job, all the primping and prepping to get a perfect shot. After all, could any shot so heavily manufactured really be considered perfect? It was like comparing glass to diamonds. It might look pretty, but at the end of the day one was priceless, and the other nothing but a cheap copy, barely worth his time.

Like Kim Minseok.

Chanyeol the thick leather bracelet around his right wrist that covered his tattoo, unwillingly remembering the lost expression his soulmate had had on his face as Chanyeol walked out of the coffee shop a few weeks before. He felt guilty, even though he’d tried to be as nice as possible when he’d said his piece. It wasn’t Minseok’s fault. It was the soulmate system’s. Sure, Minseok was probably a great guy, and without all the strings attached they probably could’ve been great friends. It wasn’t that that made him say no. It was just all the soulmateness of it. Minseok was just too stiff. Chanyeol couldn’t even begin to imagine going on a date with him, much less falling in love.

“Nice bracelet,” Charlie said, strutting past Chanyeol with a grin. “Where’d you get it from? Mom and Pop’s Leather Odds and Ends?”

“A friend of mine made it.” It was a lie, but Chanyeol would rather have Charlie think that it was handmade by one of his obscure art friends than know that he’d bought it on clearance at Walmart. He’d lose any respect he may have gotten from the man.

“Ah, a custom made.” Charlie wiggle his eyebrows. “Very nice. Are we going to shoot?” He gestured towards the set. “Everyone else is waiting for you.”

Chanyeol scoffed. “I’m pretty sure I’m not the one they’re waiting for. You still have to put on your jacket.” He pointed to the frazzled looking stylist on the other side of the room who held up a pea green parka. Charlie looked at Chanyeol with a pout.

“But it’s so ugly,” he whined.

“Which is why we’re paying you to wear it,” Chanyeol smirked. “So you can make it look better than it is.”

“So what are we going to do?” Jongdae paced back and forth, looking harried. Yixing watched him with worried eyes from his place against the wall. “Yixing is going to China in a few days. I’m super busy with my internship, and once school starts up again I’ll hardly be around at all. I won’t be around if Minseok needs anything.”

Minseok slumped further into the couch, cursing Park Chanyeol, wherever he was, for the bull he had to deal with now. “I’ll be fine. It can’t be as bad as the doctor made it sound. Yixing survived just fine without you, and he knew for almost a year.”

Jongdae shot Minseok a dirty glare. “That’s not the same and you know it.”

“He’s right,” Yixing piped up. “I hate to argue semantics Min, but Dae never actually rejected me. He didn’t even know I was his soulmate. Subconscious rejection and knowing rejection are really different.”

Minseok crossed his arms. “That still doesn’t mean it’ll be as bad as the doctor says.”

“Don’t be stubborn Min,” Jongdae shot back. Minseok pouted deeper.

“Um, guys?”

All three heads swiveled toward Yifan, who looked vaguely uncomfortable being the center of attention. “Yes?” Minseok asked.

“You could come stay with me in Redwood?”

“What?” Jongdae this time.

Yifan shrugged. “I mean, it makes sense. I live above my gallery. Most of my time I spend at or near home. I’d be able to check in on him often. I have a lot of extra space. He’d be able to get around easily too if he wanted, even without a car. Besides, even if he only stayed for a week or so, the change of scenery might be good? you know,” Yifan looked at Minseok, “give you a chance to get your mind off things?”

For a while, the room was quiet. No one spoke, as if they believed that by saying anything the tension in the room would snap and Minseok—wound as tightly as a spring—would break. In the background Minseok’s playlist shifted from Mac Miller’s “Cinderella” to Jon Bellion’s “Human.”

“I think it’s a good idea.”

“What?” Jongdae stared at Minseok, eyes wide. “Really?”

Minseok shrugged. “Logically, it makes the most sense. There’s no point in being immature about it. If things continue on the way they’re going I’ll need help, and Yifan is most likely to be able to provide that. I have vacation time saved up, so I won’t be endangering my job, and maybe I’ll be able to come back feeling better. It’s at least worth a shot.”

“Really?” Jongdae still looked concerned.

Minseok nodded, making eye contact. “Yeah.” In the background the song switched Desiigner’s “Panda.”

“Cool,” Jongdae said. He shrugged. “I guess you’re moving to Redwood City for a bit.”

“Yeah,” Minseok said back. “I guess I am.”

----

It's up! Thanks to nanowrimo, updates should be more more common, and longer than usual, so that's exciting. I hope you all like this update! Let me know what you think!

once again, I haven't edited this and don't have a beta, so there might be mistakes. Feel free to let me know and I'll fix them :)

xoxo

Jay