"soulmates? they're bull."

those have been the words leaving kim heechul's mouth for some time now - actually, ever since his parents told him what soulmates were - and he still says it every time someone brings the topic up.

the first time he realised that something was a little odd about couples was when his mother bruised her knee against a table leg and the injury appeared on his father's knee at the same time. afterwards, when he went to school, he'd see the way girls would purposely pinch their own skin in a desperate bid to find a guy who had the same mark appear on the back of his hand.

"bull," he always says, rather derisively, when someone urges him to actually begin looking for his destined soulmate, "why do i have to have ugly marks appear on my skin just because someone couldn't take care of herself?"

he wonders sometimes, though, when he accidentally gives himself a paper cut or when he trips and grazes his knees. he's never really seen other scars or marks appearing on his skin - is his soulmate someone who never comes into contact with the outside world, or does his soulmate not exist at all?

preferably the latter. he doesn't quite see why the world has to dictate who he falls in love with.

"you'll understand when you meet your soulmate," his parents insist, "it's almost as if they were made for you and only you - you'll suit each other better than anyone else could suit either of you."

kim heechul still thinks it's bull.

he doesn't want to meet his soulmate. he doesn't want to get trapped inside this illusion of his soulmate being the most perfect creature on earth.

he'd rather just - just live as he wants, with his skin being free of scars, thank you very much.

thankfully, most injuries fade, unless they're the permanent kind. he's seen his friend get this scar on his elbow from his soulmate, and it's still there, a permanent mark on his skin. 

whoever leaves a permanent mark on my skin... i'm going to hunt them down, the thought crosses heechul's mind rather venomously.

he's seen the way his friend muttered about the scar on his elbow; up until his friend actually met his soulmate, this apparently sweet girl who apologised for the scar the instant they crossed ways. and now his friend talks about the scar as if it's a token of their love or some bull like that.

no thank you. to him, this seems like some sort of weird brainwashing sorcery.

the years continue on - he's going to be graduating from high school soon - and yet, he's not received a single indication of the fact that his soulmate exists somewhere out there in the world.

he hopes it stays like this. he hopes he's been deemed unlovable by whatever god out there who had this twisted soulmate idea. he hopes he never has to deal with the trouble of somehow falling in love with someone who was a stranger to him all the way until he got an injury.

it doesn't stay like that.

when the world around him is coloured in the half-amber half-white of winter encroaching upon the last shreds of autumn, his skin is tinted with a pink line. 

he freaks out. he screams, calls his friend at two in the morning and half-shouts down the phone - his parents are asleep - "donghae, i have a scar on my skin given by some ing stranger", gets angry about it, accidentally slams his hand against the - very cold - window and proceeds to get angrier; it takes a while of frantic flailing out of disbelief before it hits him, hard, and he kind of just freezes right there.

oh.

so, it isn't bull.

he doesn't know what to feel about it, really. after living years trying to force himself into believing that he doesn't have a soulmate, this random stranger appears out of nowhere and oh-so-graciously marks his skin with a cut.

so, he has a soulmate.

some girl out there in the world got a paper cut on her right index finger, at one forty-seven in the morning.

what the is she doing at this time?

then he feels this little twinge at his abdomen area, and pulls up his shirt to peer at it - which only causes him to shriek louder (and potentially awaken his parents). marked upon his perfectly smooth, milky skin, in the reddish hue of blood, is a tiny smiley face.

"is she a ing masochist?" he whispers to himself in absolute incredulity; he always thought this whole soulmates thing was weird, but he never really imagined his soulmate writing messages to him by drawing across her skin. now, that would be cute and all, little love letters written to him that turn up on his skin - it would be cute if, maybe, it wasn't drawn in blood.

of course, he can't feel the pain, which is great, because if he had to feel the pain of some sharp object dragging across his abdomen just to see a damned smiley face, he would probably stab himself just so his soulmate would double over in pain. ha. that would be a nice revenge.

but - really - out of all his friends who discovered their soulmates early on, none of them had soulmates who communicate with them by ing cutting their skin into messages.

he pauses.

it's pretty smart, in fact, since injuries are the only things that appear on a soulmate's skin - smart, perhaps, if you disinclude the whole pain factor.

which is very much there.

hence, bringing him back to the conviction that his soulmate is an absolute masochist.

there's another tingling feeling on his skin, on the back of his left hand now, and the lines are there - faint, only light cuts, but there nonetheless. 

hi.

he allows a groan to leave his lips, collapsing back onto his bed and willing himself to go to sleep to get away from this whole soulmate thing for a few hours.

what the is this bull?