“So,” I cleared my throat, “What’s going to happen now? I mean, you said you had a plan for me.”

Chanyeol rolled off the bed, straightening his back. He glanced back at me before a yawn interrupted his seemingly never ending grin.

“Oh, I do. So I’m taking you out today. Go get ready.”

Getting ready was easier said than done with an archangel in your house. One would think that after all these years they sort of would’ve gotten the hang of imitating human beings, but I suspected that Chanyeol was either really stubborn or really stupid.

“How does this work?” he asked me as I dragged my into the kitchen, tapping the toaster.

“You don’t know how this works?” I asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Yeah, do you just put something in? What is it even?”

I sighed and rolled my eyes, opening a cupboard to get the sack of bread out and stuff two slices into the toaster.

“There you go. Now turn the button to 3 and sit your down.”

He took a seat opposite the kitchen counter, hands properly on his knees, eyes staring intently at the white device. It looked as endearing as it was ridiculous and I figured getting on with my own things would be the best to do.

“It lies.” he announced after the three minutes were over, “The turny-button thing lies.”

“How so?,” I asked as I took a swig of my coffee. He answered my question by dangling the only slightly toasted bread in my face.

“This is not crispy.”

I hummed and stuffed the toast back into the toaster, turning the dial back to 1 before leaving to get some proper clothes on me.

After 40 minutes, in which I was informed of how great the concept of toast was and the fact that the turny-button thing in the shower also lies, he was finally ready to go.


As had been foreshadowed by the greyish sunlight in my apartment, the sky outside appeared to be a bit dreary. Fortunately, it wasn’t cold, so I let my jacket hang open as I stuffed my hands in my pockets.
He took me downtown and as we made our way through the crowd, he seemed less amazed than before at my apartment. It struck me as odd, seeing that the amount of stimuli was far greater out here than back in my modest home.

But the only time he spoke was when he pointed at the sign of a small cafe and proposed to get some coffee.

“Do you even know what coffee is?”, I asked him.

“No, but you do, and that’s why you’re going to be drinking it as I explain something to you.”

I was a bit taken aback by his systematic planning, but nodded.

“Good."

He took me to the nearest coffee shop and asked for a terrace seat. I shivered. Even though it wasn't uncomfortably cold, the sporadic gusts of wind made me wonder why anyone would want to enjoy their beverage outside when they had the option of a warm, comfortable cafe.

We sat down and after my coffee had been delivered to our table he cleared his throat.

"Let me start off with clarifying that despite the probably surreal nature of this, you really did die."

I choked on the hot coffee. This made him laugh. I stared at him over the rim of my cup, watching his white teeth take over his face in a very charming, very bright smile.

“I know you’ve been wondering. And I know that now you’re wondering why I brought you back.”

He leaned over the table, getting uncomfortably close. I backed away a little, frowning lightly.

“Tell me Kyungsoo,” he spoke softly, “What do you know about the red thread of fate?”

Honestly, I knew little to nothing. I remembered the term from an old story. A fairytale about lovers meeting because of destiny and I wondered what the hell this had to do with me, someone who hadn’t been in a relationship for over a year.

“Not much, like, you’re connected to the one you’re supposed to be with by a thread or something?”

He smiled. “That’s basically it.”

“But how is that relevant? What does that have to do with me dying?”

He leaned in even closer and a moment later I found myself in darkness as his large hands covered my eyes.

When he removed them, I felt dizzy. It was like I was watching a movie through a wacky filter that highlighted things seemingly invisible to the eye. There were so many new impulses that I didn’t know where to look, although the first thing I noticed were the strings.

Red strings. Gazillions of them, strung around the place, moving around, tangling into each other. Each string seemed connected to someone, and of course this person was clueless about their attachment.

“So this is...”

“The red strings of fate, as you may call it.”

I took a better look and saw that not all strings seemed to lead to nowhere. Some people held hands as they neatly connected to each other. A man reading his paper seemed totally unaware of the fact that his string was being tugged on by the girl sitting behind him as she packed her bag. They were connected. Everyone was connected.

“But what about him?” I asked, gesturing towards an old man passing our table. His string had no other end, but hung uselessly on the ground, dragging behind its owner.

Chanyeol’s smile disappeared.

“Unfortunately, the connection only lasts between individuals on earth. When one of the two dies, the string will be cut.”

“Oh..”

I looked at the man. He seemed happy, for whatever reason, yet the knowledge that his fated person was no longer there added a shade of melancholy to the picture.

I wondered if he’d ever got to meet them. If he loved them.

Chanyeol patted my shoulder and gestured to the sidewalk.

“It’s not hopeless though.” he said, and I followed his finger.

This time, my gaze landed on a happy couple. They too were connected by the string, only theirs seemed to consist of two loose strings tied together.

“Sometimes, after all hope is lost, there will be someone who will need you as much as you need them. This is also fate.”

I smiled. The sight was strangely reassuring. I had seen my grandfather after my grandmother had passed. A grown man, completely lost in life because his whole life had been built upon that connection. He’d been broken, a changed man until the day he died.

I could only imagine how it would’ve been for someone a lot younger than him. Someone with little time to spend with their loved one, or even no time at all.

I looked down at my hand and noticed that I too had a small red string tied around my pinky finger. I glanced up at the angel.

“This is a string that cannot be cut under any circumstances.” Chanyeol announced as he tugged a little on the fabric.

I nodded. Something in me told me that he wasn’t going to elaborate on it. He seemed to have a habit of telling stories vaguely, which struck me as remarkable seeing as I had been taught about Gabriel, the Messenger, not Gabriel, The Guy Who Sort Of Tells You What’s Up.

“You can’t tell me why, of course.” I answered. He smiled apologetically.

“I can show you who it leads to.”

For a moment I didn’t know what to say. Chanyeol was actually offering me to meet my direct soulmate. I was getting an EZ-pass to true love and a part of me wondered if I had to accept the offer. What if we both weren’t ready to meet each other yet?

“It’s ok. Don’t worry.”, Chanyeol spoke and he took my hand. He was warm, and I could feel my heart flutter a little to my own surprise.

“Ok then.”

He got up and dragged me off my chair. Again, the large hands covered my eyes and I could swear I felt the ground vanish beneath my feet for a moment. It made me dizzy and I grabbed onto the arms next to my face. I could hear his chuckle in my ear.

When he pulled his hands away we were in a different part of town. Nobody seemed to bother with the fact that, I assumed, we just appeared out of nowhere.

He took my hand once again and dragged me over to a large window of an older building.

I peered inside.

It was a dance-studio, and apparently class was in session. Loud music was slightly audible through the thin walls of the old structure and I watched as the students diligently repeated after their teacher’s movements.

“First row. Black hair.” Chanyeol muttered.

He didn’t have to say it. I knew who he meant.

I had known who he meant from the first second I’d glanced at the students.

Dark, deep eyes beneath heavy eyebrows, a fairly large nose and thick lips and a complexion which seemed darker than most of the students’.

The way he moved.

It was like nothing else mattered to him. Like this was the only way he could talk. The only way he could express. It was simply mesmerizing.

“His name is Kim Jongin.”

I nodded sheepishly.

“Jongin..” I muttered, watching the boy turn around and grab a towel. He looked at himself in the mirror and ran a hand through his dark hair, a small smile appearing on his face.

He was absolutely breathtaking.