The exhibit hadn’t gone well. Granted, that was Chanyeol’s opinion, and while Kris and Junmyeon were both in agreement on his assessment on an intrapersonal level, the rest of the exhibit had actually been a grand success. Those in Kris’ art circle who’d shown up had loved his work, and Chanyeol had managed to sell over half of what he had available on top of receiving a few commissions. He'd been invited to show his work in a few other galleries, and a different photographer—one Chanyeol had admired ever since he entered the business—had approached him about a potential collaboration.  

Unfortunately, despite his popularity, Kris did not invite Chanyeol back for a future exhibit at the Lia Gallery, instead dismissing him with a cold, “Well done. I’m sure you’ll find other galleries in the future.” Chanyeol had a sinking feeling that Minseok’s stony-faced silence and cold shoulder throughout the event had been a main contributor to that decision. He hadn’t seen the slight dark-haired man after the reception ended, his soulmate disappearing into the upstairs of the gallery on an errand to retrieve more wine and not returning. There had been more than enough wine. Chanyeol watched him disappear from where he stood trapped in conversation with an older woman, one who’d attended with her wealthy husband and walked around surrounded in a cloud of expensive perfume. How women paid that much to smell good and still smelt like old person was beyond him.

Now, Chanyeol barely gave himself time to sleep, much less think. He couldn’t help it. Every time he slowed down Minseok’s words would flash through his mind. I’m not interested in being your soulmate. At first, it’d hurt. Chanyeol hadn’t understood. He’d been offended, then angry. But then he’d thought about it. And slept on it. And didn’t sleep while he worried over it. And cried on it. Throughout it all, his phone remained silent, only lighting up with work emails and check-up texts from Junmyeon. Seventeen days after the opening exhibit, as Chanyeol stood in his kitchen at 2:37 am and stared at his coffee pot, as if the bitter black liquid held the answer to all the secrets of the universe, and he understood.

You of all people should know that just because someone is your soulmate it does not mean you have to accept them.

It was his fault.

.

It was all his fault.

Minseok had wanted him. He could remember now, the gleam in his eyes when they’d met at the Starbucks over a year ago, when Chanyeol had been in a rush and dismissed Minseok out of hand for working a nine to five job and wearing a suit. For not being the fellow artist he’d imagined. For being boring. Of all the things to reject someone for. Chanyeol wanted to kick himself now, finally realizing the actual damage he’d done. Unknowingly—though really he’d known at the time even if he hadn’t actually known the consequences—he’d rejected his soulmate. And a full year later, when Chanyeol had finally gotten his head out of his , even if it was accidental, Minseok had rejected Chanyeol in return. Chanyeol hurt more than he felt he had any right to. But . It hurt, and Chanyeol would be damned if he didn’t at least try to make it right.

His eyes fell on his phone sitting dark and innocuous on the counter. He was going to fix it. He would. Hardly breathing, Chanyeol reached out to grasp the slender object. He entered his password, opening his messaging app. He typed quickly, hitting send before he had a chance to second guess himself.

PhotoGod Park (2:41 am): Minseok, I’m sorry. Can we please talk?

Minseok sat at the kitchen counter, staring openly at Yifan as he ate the Cheeto’s he’d found buried in the bottom of the pantry. He knew they were Yifan’s, and honestly, he couldn’t give less of a if he tried. He crunched loudly, pretending he didn’t see the way Yifan grimaced at the sound from his place on the couch. He was watching Psych, and Minseok knew the noise had to be bugging him, especially during his favorite show.

Okay, so maybe Minseok was being a little petty.

But , Yifan should have told him. He could have handled it. He would have. As much as Minseok had enjoyed talking to Chanyeol as PhotoGod Park, Yifan should have told him that the man Minseok had been letting himself fall in love with was the same soulmate who had already broken his heart. He crunched another Cheeto, watching as Yifan’s fingers clenched tighter around the remote in his hands. Minseok smacked his lips.

“Look,” Yifan finally spat out, spinning in his seat to face Minseok, the show paused behind him, “I’m sorry. I really am. I didn’t even know he was your soulmate until a week before the exhibit, and I didn´t think Chanyeol was going to be such an about it when he figured out who you were either. Besides, you were so excited about it that I couldn’t tell you. Not when you had had such a ty year already.” His eyebrows furrowed, mouth pulling down at the corners. “I mean, how was I supposed to tell you man?” Yifan asked. “You were so happy to be talking to someone again. And you liked him. A lot. And from how he talked about you that first time in the gallery, I thought he liked you a lot too. Can you really blame me if I thought that your meeting would go better than it did?”

Minseok deflated, the anger rushing out of him. He understood where Yifan was coming from. Really, he did. After all, he’d had the same train of thought back when he’d been Jongdae’s roommate. Back then, just like Yifan, Minseok had opted not to say anything even when he knew that Yixing was Jongdae’s soulmate long before Jongdae ever did. He wiped the Cheeto dust off on his pants, sliding off the counter.

“I’m sorry,” Minseok offered, closing the bag and returning it to the pantry. He washed his hands in the sink and wandered over to sit next to Yifan. “I’m being an .”

Yifan snorted, a quiet, derisive noise. “You are.” They sat side by side for a minute, neither one speaking. Yifan pressed play and onscreen Gus went back to berating Shawn for yet another inadvisable B&E.

“He texted me last night you know.”

“Who texted?”

Minseok’s response came after a split-second hesitation. “Chanyeol.”

Yifan turned off the TV, staring at Minseok in shock. “What?”

His friend didn’t acknowledge the movement. Instead he stared straight forward, face carefully blank. “He texted me. Last night.”

Yifan bit back his gut response. Cussing out Minseok’s soulmate, even if Minseok supported it, was probably bad. Instead he took a breath and made sure that his tone was calm and non-aggressive before asking, “What did he want?”

“To talk.” The words came out machine gun fast, rapid-fire syllables he would have missed if Minseok had spoken any quieter.

Yifan shifted, actually looking at his friend. Minseok had his knees up against his chest, arms wrapped around them in a bony self-hug. There were wrinkles around his eyes that didn’t come from smiling. His hair was dull and mussed, assumedly from running his hands through it. He looked small.

“Are you going to talk to him?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you want to?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why don’t you know?”

“I don’t—I ugh.” Minseok buried his hands in his hair, tugging at the ends. “Stop asking questions.”

“Okay.” Yifan unpaused the tv again, appearing to shift his attention back to the show, though he kept Minseok in the corner of his eye. Shawn and Gus solved whatever crime they’d encountered; the episode ended and another started. Yifan grabbed a beer from the fridge and popped it open. He placed another on the coffee table in front of Minseok but left it unopened. Minseok could open it if he wanted it.

“Aren’t soulmates supposed to be easy?”

The question was so quiet that Yifan almost missed it. He glanced at Minseok. He was still staring forward, but his eyes glistened in the light of the television and his hands were shaking.

“I don’t know Min,” Yifan replied, reaching over to pull his friend into a hug. Minseok settled into his side, rubbing roughly at his eyes with the heel of his hand.

He sniffed. “I wish we could return them,” Minseok muttered, finger subconsciously tracing the black bar on his wrist.

“Our soulmates?” Yifan struggled to keep the surprise out of his voice.

Minseok nodded. “Just the ty ones,” he corrected. “The ones that don’t want us.”

“Minseok,” Yifan broke in, tone suddenly stern, “everyone is ty. Chanyeol isn’t special, he just hurts more because you had expectations for him that he didn’t live up to. Rather spectacularly. Do you remember how rough it was for Yixing and Jongdae? , we all thought Yixing was going to keel over and die before he got with Jongdae. If he could have, Yixing probably would have returned his soulmate, just to give Jongdae a chance to be with Liyin. And it would have ended horribly, because Liyin wasn’t Jongdae’s soulmate and Yixing was. And they’re ing adorable now. But they aren’t perfect either. Remember that fight they had last summer, when Yixing told Jongdae he was planning to go back to China? Jongdae couldn’t go with him because he had to finish his degree, and Yixing couldn’t wait for him to graduate because of the offer he’d received with the museum? They almost ended it over that, until they figured out a way to compromise. Relationships take work Minseok. Even your soulmate won’t be perfect, and you have to be willing to forgive them and work with them. I’m not saying you should go running to Chanyeol if that’s not what you want, but he’s finally willing to talk to you as your soulmate. He’s definitely been an , and honestly, I don’t really like him. He’s hurt you too many times for that. But if he’s willing to have a conversation, maybe you should go? At least once. After all, it is his name on your wrist.”

“Was his name,” Minseok interjected, thumbing along the long dark tattoo that was on his wrist now instead.

“Right,” Yifan nodded, something like a rock settling in his stomach, making him uneasy. “was.” He swiped Minseok’s beer from in front of him, popped it open and took a long pull.

Chanyeol stared at his phone, trying to decide if what he was seeing was real or just wishful thinking. It was an innocuous thing, a single notification on his home screen.

Minseok: Unread message

Chanyeol screwed his eyes shut, rubbing them hard before opening them again. The message didn’t disappear. . Minseok had texted him back. Three days later, true, but still. It was a reply.

Minseok (9:02 pm): I’m free Thursday

Thursday came like a seventy-two-year-old man with arthritis—slowly and painfully. Chanyeol had canceled everything on his schedule starting Tuesday, only to lock himself in his apartment and start drafting out different tactics he could use to win Minseok back. Junmyeon had dropped by at one point, taken a single glance at the warzone that had become Chanyeol’s apartment—takeout boxes everywhere, clothes strewn every which way, Chanyeol himself very obviously unshowered and just beginning to stink—and walked back out. He’d texted Chanyeol later to remind him that he should probably pick up the spilled chow mien on his carpet before he got ants. Chanyeol hadn’t even realized that he’d tipped the chow mien container over. Chanyeol sent a brief thanks to Junmyeon, cleaned the mess and resumed panicking.

Junmyeon didn’t see Chanyeol again until Wednesday night, after Chanyeol called tripping over words to beg Junmyeon for a ride to the airport. He was going to do it right this time, he swore to Junmyeon, which meant making the trip and seeing Minseok in person. Junmyeon’s chest swelled a little bit with pride when Chanyeol said that, regardless of the ungodly hour—three am was no time for anyone to be awake—he’d been required to drop his friend off at.

“Text me when you get there, okay?” Junmyeon called to Chanyeol, hanging across the console to speak through the rolled down window on the passenger side as he watched his friend shuffle through the sliding doors towards the baggage check.

“’Kay,” Chanyeol called back, struggling to balance his coffee and phone in one hand while he used the other to untangle a pair of earbuds.

“And Chanyeol, one more thing,” Junmyeon leaned further over the console, the shorter distance making his voice barely louder, “don’t be a .”

Chanyeol snorted, taking a break from untangling his headphones to raise his fist and flip Junmyeon off. Junmyeon cackled and drove away. He’d probably apologize in the morning, after he wasn’t as sleep deprived and had actually had enough coherency to feel bad about being an . Chanyeol didn’t mind it too much. Honestly, he was surprised Junmyeon wasn’t an more often with all the bull Chanyeol made him handle. Of course, that didn’t stop him from replying with sass when he got Junmyeon’s text a few hours later, just after Chanyeol landed in Redwood City.

Joon (7:03 am): sorry about earlier. I was tired. Good luck! (don’t be a jerk and you’ll be fine)

PCY (7:11 am): 2 late. You’ve shattered my self-esteem. I can only be a jerk :(

Joon (7:12 am): ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ sorry. No advice here for inherent personality flaws.

Joon (7:12 am): seriously though, just remember he’s a person too? It’s not all about you because he’s a solid 50% of this equation. If you remember that you’ll be fine.

Chanyeol grinned, pocketing his phone as he gathered up his things and stood to disembark the plane. It took a few more minutes to finally step into the aisle and walk off. The wait usually drove Chanyeol insane but this time the wait was calming, a few more minutes to breathe before confronting his mistakes. An hour later Chanyeol had finally made it through the airport and the rental car agency and found himself sitting in the front seat of a too-nice Mercedes in the middle of Redwood City, too early to check into his hotel, wondering what to do with himself. He took a breath to steel himself, trying to convince himself that it was as good a time as any to text Minseok. He got out his phone.

Trash Soulmate (8:29 am): You said you were free today? Do you want to meet up for breakfast somewhere?

The reply came only a few minutes later.

Minseok (8:34 am): what? Over Skype or something?

Trash Soulmate (8:35 am): I was hoping in person? I’m in Redwood City

No reply came for a long time. Chanyeol drove to a nearby coffee shop, a cutesy local place that doubled as a bookstore, hoping to kill time there. He ordered a caramel mocha, then sat down to read a battered copy of Frank Herbert’s Dune that he’d found tucked away on one of the shelves.

Minseok (9:41 am): why the are you in Redwood City

Trash Soulmate (9:42 am): because I ed up. And because you deserve someone who will make an effort for you.

Minseok didn’t reply for an hour. Chanyeol tried not to let the silence stress him out but it wasn’t working. He drank three more caramel mochas while he waited, making him jittery and unable to focus. Finally his phone screen flashed to life.

Minseok (10:47 am): Let’s do lunch instead. There’s a Mexican place on 6^th and Main called Chachi’s. Noon. Don’t be late.

Chanyeol wanted to simultaneously cry and drop to his knees to praise whatever higher power was out there that deemed him worthy of a second chance.

Trash Soulmate (10:48 am): I’ll be there on time, promise.

Trash Soulmate (10:48 am): thank you

Minseok didn’t reply, but Chanyeol wasn’t surprised. Honestly, he was just glad that Minseok had accepted his invitation, even if it did end up being for lunch instead of breakfast. He looked up the restaurant in his map’s app, pleasantly surprised to find that it was only a twenty-minute walk from where he already was. With a grin Chanyeol stood and brought his empty cup to the counter, depositing it in the bus tub. The girl working the register perked up, cleary wondering if Chanyeol would order yet another drink. He waved her off, wishing her a good rest of her day as he all but skipped out the door, already headed to Chachi’s. Minseok had warned Chanyeol not to be late. Chanyeol was going to do him one better. He’d be early.

Chanyeol was too early.

The twenty-minute walk had turned out to be more like a fifteen-minute walk, thanks to Chanyeol’s freakishly long legs and almost uncanny good timing at the crosswalks. He arrived at Chachi’s just past eleven and sat down. It only took a few minutes for him to be shooed away by one of the waiters—a loud, round woman named Maritza if her nametag was to be believed—in order to make room for actual patrons. Chanyeol tried to tell her that he was going to be eating eventually, he was just waiting for someone, but Maritza only chittered at him in rapid-fire Spanish and shoved him out the door. Chanyeol ended up sitting on a curb in the parking lot, the closest he could get to the restaurant without Maritza coming out and shooing him away with her Spanish assault. He found himself regretting walking. At least he could have sat in his air-conditioned car while he waited. But no, he walked. And now it was too late for him to walk back and drive over, the lunch rush traffic almost guaranteed to take as long or longer than walking would. But damn, it was hot. Chanyeol had sweat stains.

Time passed. Chanyeol watched as an ant struggled to drag a grain of rice toward a hole in the sidewalk. It made it halfway before another ant came to help.

“Chanyeol!”

His head jerked up, eyes immediately drawn to the man weaving through the parking lot towards him.

“Minseok?”

“Yeah,” Minseok replied, flailing his arms up as if to say ta-dah before letting them flop uselessly to his sides. His mouth was drawn in a tight line.

Chanyeol stood, subconsciously swiping at his pants to remove any dirt from the curb. He gestured at the restaurant. “So um, food?”

“Yeah,” Minseok nodded, pushing ahead of him to enter the restaurant. Chanyeol had to jog to keep up. Maritza narrowed her eyes at him when he entered but calmed when she saw him follow Minseok into the ordering line.  

“What do you usually get here?” Chanyeol asked when the silence between them became too much.

Minseok shrugged. “A burrito.”

“Oh.” Chanyeol gulped, trying not to notice how quickly he’d been shut down. “What kind?”

“Carne asada.”

Chanyeol forced himself to smile. “That sounds good?”

“It is.”

The line moved forward. Chanyeol read the menu on the wall in front of him. “The sweet pork quesadilla looks good.”

“Never tried it.”

“Oh.” Chanyeol swallowed.

Minseok stepped up to order. “Hi,” he greeted to girl working with a smile. “I’ll have a carne asada burrito with refried beans and a medium drink.”

“I’ll have the same,” Chanyeol piped up from behind.

The girl smiled, typing in the order. “Will that be together or separate?” she asked.

“Together,” Chanyeol said, at the same moment as Minseok replied, “Separate.” The girl glanced between them.

“Separate,” Minseok said again, “We’re separate.”

“Okay,” she replied, entering something on the screen. “You’re total will be $10.47.” Minseok handed her his card. Chanyeol tried not to feel hurt, reminding himself that he was lucky to get whatever his soulmate gave him. So what if Minseok still wouldn’t even give him the time of day? At least he’d agreed to meet him.

Chanyeol paid for his food next and followed Minseok to a table tucked away in the far corner by the drinks machine. He placed his food down carefully, noticing that Minseok had already begun to eat. Chanyeol followed his lead, unwrapping his own burrito and taking a bite.

Chanyeol’s eyes widened. “This is really good!”

Minseok nodded, the barest hint of a smile tweaking at the corners of his mouth for a split second. “Chachi’s is one of my favorite restaurants here.”

“I can see why.” Chanyeol took another bite of his burrito, reveling in the flavor of the steak. “How’d you find this place?”

“Yifan.”

“Yifan?” The name sounded oddly familiar.

“Ah,” Minseok paused. “I forgot he introduced himself as Kris to you.”

“What?” Chanyeol jerked, “his name isn’t Kris?” His accidently hit his drink in his surprise, sending it careening off the edge of the table and spilling orange soda all over his shoes and the floor. Chanyeol stared blankly at the mess for a few seconds, processing what had just happened. The soda started to soak through his shoes, making his toes sticky. “,” he muttered to himself, closing his eyes in defeat.

Minseok snorted.

Chanyeol opened his eyes, staring at the man across from him. Minseok had his hand stuffed over his mouth, inefficiently muffling his giggles. His entire face was red, and his eyes crinkled with mirth.

“Sorry,” he gasped out. “That shouldn’t be funny, it’s just,” laughter cut his sentence off. Chanyeol waited till he calmed. “You just,” Minseok took a deep breath, “you looked so defeated. By soda.”

“Ha ha,” Chanyeol shot back, tone dry, “laugh it up why don’t you. I’m glad my pain is funny to you.” Minseok dissolved into laughter again.

Things got a little easier after that, a little smoother. Minseok gave more than one word answers, smiled more easily, and finally Chanyeol felt himself relaxing, just the barest amount. The rest of the lunch passed in relative peace, and by the time they finished Chanyeol could comfortably say that they would one day be friends. More than that? He didn’t know. He still wasn’t sure that Minseok would ever forgive him, and the black bar on his wrist where Chanyeol’s name should have been was hard to ignore. But at least Minseok wouldn’t be completely removed from his life.

“Look, um,” Minseok fidgeted with his car keys. They were in the parking lot. He glanced at his car and then back at Chanyeol, brow furrowed. “Do you want a ride back to your car?”

Chanyeol nodded.

Minseok pulled in next to Chanyeol’s rental car, a strange pit in his stomach. Chanyeol was an . He didn’t deserve a second chance, especially not after the he’d pulled at the exhibition. But lunch had been strangely good. Chanyeol had been funny. Sure, he was inconsiderate at times, but he was quick to notice Minseok’s offense and apologize. Minseok had even found himself thinking that Chanyeol was cute at times.

, it was like talking to PhotoGod Park all over again.

He glanced over, noticing the way that Chanyeol seemed to slump further in his seat when Minseok put the car in park.

“We’re here,” he said, wisely ignoring the way that Chanyeol frowned at the words.

“Thanks uh, thanks for the ride,” Chanyeol replied, right hand scratching at the back of his neck. He made no motion to unbuckle.

“Aren’t you going to get out?” Minseok prompted.

“Oh,” Chanyeol floundered, mouth opening and closing like he had something to say but didn’t know how to say it. “Uh yeah,” he finished. “Sorry.” He unbuckled and opened the car door. He began to step out. He was half out of the car when he turned around. “Um, thanks by the way, for giving me a chance.” He ducked his head, turning quickly and all but slamming the car door behind him, leaving Minseok to stare as he got in his own car and peeled out of the parking lot.

Minseok watched his car disappear into traffic.

“You’re welcome.”

----

I'm honestly not as happy as I could be with this chapter. Something about it is bugging me. But I've been working on it for ages and at this point honestly It just needs to be posted. Let me know what you think!

I love you all! Have a great day :)

Jay <3