Magnets always have their other half somewhere. Lying in a ball pit or sunbathing under the sun. It could be collecting dust for all one could care. 

However, once it finds its other half, one has to admit it's pretty tough separating these two halves. 

But it is peculiar that when one removes the other half, both would be two wholes.

Language sure is hard in every curves, dots and lines. Same goes for love.

Perhaps one day, one would get their other half of the whole magnet just as what the stars had assigned in the universe for us.

_________________________

In the end, Choi Yena knew that magnets had no say in her life, especially when it came down to her.

Two straps of shoes and another round of lukewarm coffee in was enough to send a message to her brain that she needed to catch the last train before she would end up facing a barrage of stares, all simply for a second of tardiness.

The barrage of stares spared her a chance as the train rolled into the city, the abrupt wind winding her loose sweatpants against her legs.

Individuals walked by each other, each heading to catch their transport to the next phase of life or just the same constant.

The hollow sharp whistling as the train entered the tunnel, pierced the still air. A short piece of silence ensued, only for a commuter to be greeted to the daily sights of cement and glass, the occasional vine in sight but purely around for aesthetics.

'But for whose aesthetics?' Yena wondered to herself as the card reader beeped monotonously, the gantry giving way to a haggard student lugging pieces of homework.

A short walk of roughly five minutes, shorter if Yena had to rush but it was much too early in the morning to force her body against her will.

Couples littered her view, the subtle brush of hands, little pecks shared between people. It didn’t bother Yena much as she would have thought it would. It was more of that little annoying voice at the back of your head, telling her that life was short and she should cut to the chase. 

Just another constant in her life. 

Taking her place in the haphazard arrangement of seats, she donned her white hoodie that Yujin gifted her for a birthday. Which birthday, she wasn’t quite sure but all she knew was that it was given on 29 September.

Things given on special days like one’s birthday are considered as gifts. At least what Yena perceives it to be.

Exchanging monotonous greetings alongside 29 odd voices, the class settled into a hollow silence. The only exception of their professors’ soft click on his laptop and the faint clicks from everyone’s keyboards.

The module had no impact in their life. Maybe adding an extra line to their yellow piece of paper, full of greatness.

In everyone’s eyes, they simply took it for the extra line. This is something Yena admits that she agrees to. Besides, the professor was a frail man, clad in his pressed pants and crinkled stripes of a shirt, everyone was there to earn that easy extra credit.

“Everyone’s ingrained magnet has been scientifically proven to be able to attract their soulmate due to opposing polarities.”

‘It is common sense that magnets are only attracted to each other if their opposite poles are introduced to each other. Even a newborn can babble it with their own language.’ Yena scoffed internally as she typed down her professor’s take on magnets.

“Though it has been scientifically proven countless times, as humans, ourselves. We must leave or to better phrase it, our curious nature always propels us to think beyond the labels that magnets have confined us to.”

Raising an eyebrow to that statement, Yena gave a slight shake of her head before typing it down, neat words appearing on her laptop.

Time slowly made its way down the hourglass, striking a parallel to everyone’s shoulders which began to slump down.

Shuffling feets was enough to propel Yena out of her daydream, her stomach fuelled with merely caffeine growling softly as she passed by her professors’ desk.

“Miss Choi, you seem to have a different take on what our curious nature can do to humans, especially yourself.” Her professor’s raspy voice caught her before she left the room.

Turning around slowly, Yena looked around before her eyes landed on her professor’s eyebrows which directed itself towards her.

“You’re the only female Choi here, unless I might have mistaken Mr Choi Beomgyu wrongly as a he or they as what youths have called. Anyways, words aside, any thoughts you have on the recent lesson. In this environment, there are no right mistakes or wrong corrections.”

The last phrase stumped the starving Choi but it was enough to spur her own thoughts out.

“I understand that magnets are restricted by their magnetic fields. We are assigned our soulmates who have the other half of the polarity we are missing. But what if we find our other half, having the same polarity as us.”

Smiling warmly at his student’s thoughts, the frail professor gave his question to Yena’s question.

“For that, one has to understand another language. More complex than what physics or maths can offer us. One that has different answers yet gives one pathetic response in return.”  

Yena knew the answer. It was harsh. But reality is like that, not everything is butterflies and honey.

“Love.” Yena mumbled softly.

Making an poorly executed excuse of having to rush for her next non existent class, Yena bowed down hurriedly, feeling eyes mark itself on her.

Surely she should have gotten over the breakup considering that it was nearly a year ago and that her partner was simply just a temporary constant in her life.

With not much thought, Yena let her feet dragged her to where her body desired. Blurred voices and clear visions combed through her mind recklessly. As much as she wanted to push those memories away, she had to use it to overcome the barrier.

A faint ring of a bell was enough to wake her senses which brought herself to a quaint little pub.

Groups of old men huddled in the corner, creased eyes hogging the screen which showed a live soccer match. There was the occasional person who was fast asleep on the rough tabletop, bottles of soju or beer depending on the situation strewn round.

Ladies, mature ones held soft conversations among themselves as their fingers held onto the thin glasses which contained quarter finished mimosas.

No one looked out of place, not even Yena. Besides, no one was down to judge others when alcohol could make everything seem a hazy better.

“One glass of Dongdongju, please.” Placing her order, Yena settled down onto a bar stool, watching as the passersby walked on, seemingly oblivious to the existence of the pub.

A bowl of pistachios along with a seemingly translucent cousin of makgeolli in a glass dripping with droplets.

Relishing how the cup of dongdongju gave her the sweetness she craved, Yena took another gulp. Just enough to make the remainder last for an hour before she headed anywhere else, stomach filled with alcohol, her only food.

Cracking open a particularly stubborn pistachio with another used shell, it popped into the bowl, a soft clink filling the air.

Slowly scoping it up, the young lady failed to notice someone’s presence looming behind her, their hand poised to tap her shoulder.

One faint tap.

Swiveling her head around, Yena figured it must be an old friend that just dropped by.

Instead, her heart dropped to a new low, enough to slap her conscience into coming up with an appropriate counter to the sight in front of her.

“Song Yuqi?” A voice called out, knocking on her eardrums, each note rasping against it.

Shaking her head softly, Yena gave a reassuring smile in return to the voice, whose carefully crafted brows drew themselves into a slight disappointment, a soft button nose scrunched itself for a minuscule second before releasing into an exasperated sigh.

‘She must be here for an appointment, a blind date perhaps.’ Yena hypothesised.

“My apologies, I must have mistaken you for my blind date. Have a good drink ahead.” Apologising for the short break in Yena’s time, the voice walked away, its silhouette speaking louder with each footstep.

Shaking her head, Yena swiveled back into place, knowing that her mind would simply lock away that sight of a pretty face for unknown purposes, choosing to appear at the most irrelevant junctions.

Taking another gulp out of her cup, each droplet of alcohol forcing her memories of her out of existence.

Each gulp, tasting a note sweeter, each one dancing lightly on her tongue while slamming down on her harder after the previous, streaking a burn along .

One presence slid in.

It was the same voice from earlier. The one that had been looking for her date while Yena tried to forget about her expired date.

"One Hoegaarden Rosée. Please.” There was a faint pause before the ‘please’ like it wasn’t meant to be there but the voice just added it for the formalities.

It wasn’t like Yena to speak to strangers, especially with one that came off from the streets. Alcohol has its ways of working spurts of confidence into people, Yena, a prime example of it.

‘Besides, it’s not like she could s