“... And there have been reported incidents of people’s world gradually returning to monochrome, haven’t there, Professor Han?”

“Yes, those are extremely rare cases, but there are recorded phenomenon where a partner’s world return to monochrome, while the other’s remain coloured. One of such examples is the famous Jung-Cho couple.”

“Ah yes, the breakup of the legendary pop singer Jung Hyun and his stunning wife, Cho Mi. Can you possibly explain to us how that is possible?”

“As of now, we are unable to provide a conclusive theory for these occurrences. However, the most popular hypothesis in the ortho-sensory field is that such happenings may be triggered by a partner falling in love with another, and as such breaking the metaphorical red string of fate with his initial partner, while at the same time, forming one with his new lover.”

“Oh? How tragic. But aren’t humans perfectly paired up with each other? How is it possible for a man to have more than 1 soulmate?”

“That is unfortunately another knowledge gap that has yet to be filled. While there are speculations abound, we must understand that the ortho-sensory field is one rived with mysteries—“

Jongin hurriedly pressed the off button on his remote controller as he swept by the living room, effectively silencing the morning talkshow. Grabbing his briefcase, he gathered the papers strewn messily across the coffee table and stuffed them haphazardly into his grey bag.

He was running late. It was already 5 minutes into 9am and Jongin had not set off for work yet.

Blaming the midnight oil he burned yesterday, Jongin wished he had not been that overly ambitious and brought back all 3 projects to work on at home. It was hardly the wisest of choice looking back now, because he could barely finish 2 last night, much less 3.

And if Jongin remembered correctly, he had accidentally spilled coffee on an important blueprint yesterday, leaving behind a grim grey stain despite his best efforts at blotting it away. Jongin winced at the memory.

Squashing down the niggling feeling he would have his head chewed off by Taemin, Jongin gave a last cursory glance around the house. Bad enough to be late, worse still to have dirtied the blueprint, but if he had forgotten anything for the monthly meeting today, Jongin might just be relegated to coffee duties for a month.

Taemin was vicious like that.

Jongin hopped on 1 foot as he struggled to put on his shoes while standing.

Alright, everything seemed to be in order. Satisfied, Jongin exited his apartment quickly, letting himself out and locking in record time.

No time to waste! Jongin left for the subway, taking the steps 2 at a time.

-

The familiar light grey structure of the domed building greeted Jongin’s eyes. Glancing down to his watch, Jongin noted the time.

10am. That was still a respectable timing. He was only half an hour late.

Quickening his footsteps, Jongin walked towards his workplace, shuttling from one grey destination to another.

 -

In this world where people were paired up inexplicably since birth, the concept of soulmates was not a foreign one.

Defying scientific theories and evading experimentation, people were born with metaphorical red strings, that the academics are so fond of quoting, tying one to another. Regardless of race, age, nationality and other fine intricacies differentiating one from another, man and woman (or sometimes man and man, or woman and woman) were born as separate halves, incomplete without their destined ones.

And the idea of incompleteness was in no way metaphorical.

Because in this strange, quirky universe, a man was born into a monochrome world, only able to see black and white, and shades in between.

Colour was an incomprehensible concept till a man had found his life partner.

Soulmates literally lit up each other’s world.

And Jongin was a romantic. While some had found this phenomenon to be stifling and damning (because free will became a myth, and dating was considered a trifle, only meant to be done for the kicks since there was little point to it), the idea of a soulmate had always greatly appealed to him.

Out of these billions of people, there was this 1 person who was meant to be Jongin’s from the very start.

And so, as Jongin went about his everyday life, he did his best to look everyone in the eye. Because the more people whom he came into contact with, the quicker Jongin would find The One. The connection that formed between partners, the 1 action that made things clicked into place was none other than an exchange of eye contacts.

After all, eyes were known as windows to the souls.

-

“Jongin,” a voice called.

Dread began to settle in Jongin’s stomach and he sunk a little lower in his seat.

“Jongin,” the voice neared and Jongin could spy a pair of polished Goldywood from the side of his eyes, “Didn’t you hear me calling?”

Jongin could pretend no longer. He straightened his back and looked up at his boss, doing his best to offer a smile. He could see the grey folder marked with a huge ‘TPX’ stamped before it in Taemin’s hands.

Uh-oh. The blueprint he spilled coffee on.

“Hi, Taemin,” Jongin said weakly.

“Jongin,” Taemin smiled pleasantly, his upturned lips belying a trap, “How’s your day?”

“Uh,” Jongin floundered for an answer helplessly, “Good?”

“Well, you did appear for work late today,” Taemin nodded his head thoughtfully, “So I suppose that’s a given.”

“I am so sorry, Taemin. It won’t happen again—“

“Oh, don’t apologise, Jongin,” Taemin waved his hands carelessly, “There are days when people just aren’t in their top forms. I understand.”

“Uh…”

“But then, Jongin, you’re a professional, aren’t you?”

There it was, the killing blow. Jongin shrunk in his seat a little, “Yes?”

“I am glad to hear so,” Taemin’s eyes gleamed, “You agree with me then that you ought to redo the TPX blueprints and have them at my desk before 3pm today?”

“I tried to blot away the coffee, Taemin, I swear I did—“

“Oh, speaking of coffee,” Taemin pursed his lips, “Do you mind getting me a cup of caramel latte?”

“Uh.”

“And since you are at it, why don’t you just get the whole department a round of caffeine?” Taemin’s clapped his hands together in faux excitement. He dug around in his pockets, and took out a 5,000 won.

Smiling benignly, he pressed the money into Jongin’s hands, “Here. It’s on me.”

-

The bell tinkled as Jongin pushed open the glass door. Soft shades of grey edged in with hardwood and blurred with potted plants met Jongin’s eyes, as he took in the familiar sight of the cafe. A handful of customers sat in the cluster of couches and short stools, while the sole barista on duty stood by at the counter.

The light aroma of coffee wafted over, and on any other day, Jongin would have found it comforting. However, the thought of having to lug back 34 cups of coffee (how in the world was he going to do that?) back to his workplace had Jongin frowning imperceptibly.

Nonetheless, he approached the counter with an air of resignation.

At the very least, one good thing Jongin had gotten out of this godforsaken task was that he could finally fill up his redemption card and get his free drinks.

“Welcome to Café Hito, how may I help you?” the barista smiled politely.

“A cup of caramel latte and 33 cups of…” Jongin scanned the menu for the cheapest beverage available, “Americano please.”

The brows of the barista lifted, “33 cups of Americano?”

“Yes, please,” Jongin nodded, “And 1 cup of caramel latte.”

Having checked that he had not heard Jongin’s order wrongly, the barista tapped away at the counter even as he looked up every now and then to stare at Jongin with curious eyes.

“What’s your name, sir?”

Jongin shook his head, “It’s alright. I will just be to the side.”

The barista nodded.

“And if you don’t mind, I am kind of in a hurry here. So it will be great if you can make it fast.”

“I will do my best,” the barista’s mouth quirked, “But even then, it will take at least 20 minutes.”

Jongin sighed. It took him around 10 minutes to get to the café, and would probably take him another 10 minutes to get back. 40 minutes gone getting the damned coffee for Taemin.

“The total is 173,000 won, sir.”

Jongin inhaled sharply.

-

After shelving out an amount that could have been his lunch money for an entire month, Jongin settled despondently on a short stool, his legs crossed and tucked close to himself. He probably looked a ridiculous sight, but Jongin couldn’t care less at this moment because curling up into a foetal position sounded pretty good to him then.

The late night coupled together with over-liberal dosages caffeine in desperate attempts to stay awake had Jongin shrugging off an oncoming migraine. But what with a tyrannical boss and a sudden loss in wealth, Jongin could feel the headache returning with a vengeance, ready to pounce.

The bell tinkled again, signaling the entrance of another customer. Jongin did not bother looking up to note the newcomer. Instead, he focused his energies on nursing dark hatred towards Lee Taemin.

Perhaps if he wished hard enough, Taemin would suddenly take a year-long vacation overseas.

Voices spoke and words were exchanged, but Jongin paid them little heed. It was only when 1 of the voice was raised in volume that Jongin finally decided to stop feeding energies to his dark cloud of gloom and direct his attention elsewhere.

“What?” someone yelped.

“I am sorry, sir, but a customer ordered 34 cups of coffee before you.”

“34 cups? Whatever for?”

“Beats me. You’ll have to ask the customer over there.”

Jongin supposed that was his cue to enter the conversation and offer his apologies. Although, frankly speaking, he wasn’t really at fault, but he supposed that was what one do in a civil world.

Jongin had his hand halfway upraised in a polite gesture when the man dressed in a similar set of shirt and pants to Jongin (except that his was probably less crisp and more wrinkled) turned around and looked him in the eye.

And that was the instant when it all began.

Colour entered Jongin’s world, and all of a sudden, the café was no longer a theme of greys. The counter was brown, the potted plants were green, the stainless steel was silver. It was as if a switch had been flipped on, and whatever monochromatic channel Jongin was viewing had now turned to a coloured one.

Jongin breathed in sharply and found himself gripping at the edges of his stool.

And right in the center of his newfound coloured vision was the man. He was clenching his blue wallet tight in his fists, his brown hair falling neatly just above his equally brown eyes. The man’s face was sharp planes of shock and soft curves of surprise, with his pink lips slightly opened.

Jongin could spy white teeth peeking at him, and he supposed that he must be sporting an equally stunned look.

Jongin closed his eyes and tried to gather himself together. It was slightly disorienting, this coloured world.

Colours of all sorts that Jongin had never encountered before were now clambering for his attention; loud and demanding. The bright green signs outside the café, the rainbow array of macaroons in the display and the gentle shades of greys and blues the man was dressed in.

But no, rather than colours, it might be more appropriate to say that the man himself was the most distracting. The soft pale skin, the gently sloping nose, and the harmonious way everything seemed to come together.

Jongin had never thought himself to be a particularly superficial man, but this was the moment when he felt Love At First Sight was not such a cliché after all.

(Or maybe, it was just fate working its little tricks and having him fall heads over heels for his destined one.)

Alright, Jongin, you have been waiting for this forever. Don’t screw this up. You can do it.

Taking in a deep breath, Jongin opened his eyes and was met by the sight of the man not 6 inches away from him.

Granted, it wasn’t that near, but Jongin was feeling particularly sensitive that moment, and he leaned back hastily.

The stool was small and short. It had no backs.

Jongin fell, and landed on his bottom. It would be great if he fell on his , but he did not. Having his tailbone having to bear with the sudden impact of his entire weight, Jongin could feel his (coloured) world contorting into shades of pain.

“,” Jongin cried out with emotion, before belatedly realizing that the first word he said to The One was a vulgarity.

The pain suddenly seemed much less important and Jongin looked up at the man frantically, “I am sorry—that wasn’t meant to come out at all—I am sorry—“

The man who had looked taken aback by the entire fiasco suddenly burst into laughter at Jongin’s blabbering, his eyes disappearing and his pink gums appearing.

Jongin could only stare at the man, devastated. He had just embarrassed himself during his first meeting with The One. This was not going the way it was supposed to.

“It’s alright. I mean, it must’ve hurt,” the man’s laughter finally died down. He approached Jongin (and Jongin resisted the instinct to scramble away) and held a hand out, smiling sympathetically like an angel, and not the devil who was laughing hard at Jongin’s misfortune just seconds before, “Are you alright?”

Jongin blinked. He looked at the proffered hand and back at the man.

“Is the floor really that comfortable?” the man teased.

At this, Jongin returned to his senses. Hurriedly grasping the hand, Jongin pulled himself up.

“I am sorry—I mean, thank you,” Jongin was flustered, “Thank you for helping me up.”

“You’re welcome,” the man smiled.

“Uh,” it was Jongin’s turn to keep the conversation going but he was drawing a blank. The man was really handsome and Jongin kept getting distracted by how the man’s nose would scrunch up cutely when he smiling and how his brown eyes seemed to dance with light. The man was also a fair bit shorter than him, and Jongin imagined how right it would feel for him to hug the other party. “Uh,” he repeated.

Meanwhile, the man’s smile fade into something more sympathetic and he shook his head, “This is all too sudden, isn’t it?”

“It’s not,” Jongin hurriedly said, just in case he thought that Jongin didn’t like him or something. Quick to correct whatever (unvoiced and imagined) misconceptions the other person might have, Jongin blurted out, “I like you.”

It was the man’s turn to blink, and Jongin felt like beating himself.

Jongin tried to correct himself, “I mean, you light up my world—we are destined to be toge—I can see colours now—” Jongin could hear the sound of himself falling apart and it had never given him such great anguish as it did now. “My name is Kim Jongin,” he finally ended off lamely.

The man grinned, his cheeks pulling up high in amusement. He said, “Nice to meet you, Jongin. I am Kim Minseok.”

“Minseok,” Jongin repeated, the name sliding off his tongue far easier than he thought it would, “Minseok.”

“Yes?”

“Nothing,” Jongin ducked his head in embarrassment, “Just. It’s a cute name.”

Minseok laughed, light pink dusting his face, “Thank you, Jongin.”

“You’re welcome,” Jongin said awkwardly. He fiddled with his hands, not too sure what to say next, “Uh.”

“If you don’t mind, can I have your number please?” Minseok paused before adding on, “If it’s not too fast, or inconvenient for you that is.” Because unspoken in his request was an assumption that Jongin would want to know him better, would want to get together with him, just because they were deemed to be life partners by nature’s law. And not everybody liked that sort of forceful matchmaking.

“No, no, no,” Jongin raised his hands up and was quick to deny, “It’s not too fast. I mean, I have been waiting for this forever and uh, I have been single since 2 years ago—this. Uh, please give me your phone.”

Minseok seemed to be finding too much humour in Jongin’s flailing, but nonetheless he handed over his golden S5 without further comments. Jongin took it over gratefully, gladdened for the brief respite in conversation that keying in his number offered him.

Right now, Jongin did not trust himself to speak a sentence without sounding like a complete idiot.

This first meeting was going nothing like what he envisioned. In fact, it could possibly be crowned as the most embarrassing meeting ever, with a potential to cause Jongin great pain and suffering even 50 years down the road.

Wordlessly handing the phone back to Minseok after having saved his number, Jongin could feel the pressing need to impress (and correct the terrible image he portrayed a few minutes earlier) bearing down on him again. He wracked his brains for topics that could possibly pass off as intelligent instead of sounding stupid, all the while taking quick glances of Minseok.

These quick glances did not help him in anyway, because whatever trains of thoughts he might be forming would be derailed by the view of such gorgeous perfection.

“Thanks, I will message you later, Jongin,” Minseok kept his phone, “You can save my number then.”

“Uh, you’re welcome. And ok.”

And the conversation stalled to a stop, with Jongin internally scrambling about as he tried to find a way to sound interesting to someone as dazzling as Minseok.

Jongin, you are starting to look like a fool. Hurry up and speak!

“Can I treat you to a cup of coffee?” Jongin asked not too smoothly.

Minseok once again laughed and Jongin decided that Minseok must be a man who laughed easily (and not because Jongin was being an embarrassment to the entire mankind now).

“Yes, you can,” Minseok teased, lips curled up, “But since a certain someone ordered 34 cups of coffee before me, I don’t think I want to wait that long for my dose of caffeine.”

“It’s ok, I can give you, like, 1 of mine,” Jongin hastily went to the collection area and took out a cup from the paper bag. He did not want Minseok to go off to another café and leave him here waiting for his hellish order of 34 cups of coffee. He quickly offered the café’s signature red paper cup to Minseok, “Here you go, I hope you like it.”

“Thanks, Jongin,” Minseok took a sip, “It’s good.”

“Yea, this café serves pretty nice coffee.”

“I am realizing it now. I should’ve stopped by earlier instead of making do with those mass-produced Starbucks,” Minseok said wryly.

“Yea, Starbucks isn’t that nice.”

Jongin had never considered himself to be an exceptional conversationalist, but never once had he thought he was this bad. The need to bury himself in a hole and disappear had never felt as strong as it did now.

Seeming to take pity on Jongin, Minseok then asked, “But hey Jongin, why did you order 34 cups anyway?”

Alright, that question was something Jongin could handle. He could just retell the entire incident to Minseok.

And that was what he did. Even though he sounded like a careless loser by the time he was done, Minseok did not seem to mind. In fact, it even managed to garner Jongin some sympathy points from Minseok, because in Minseok’s words, he knew ‘what it was like to work with overbearing people’.

The conversation flowed somewhat smoothly following that (except for a few hitches here and there), and time passed by like it was speeding by. Soon, his order was ready and Jongin was laden up with 33 cups of piss-brown liquid that he no longer hated so much.

Thanks to them, he met Minseok. Thanks to them, he managed to score a date with The One.

Jongin decided that today might just be a good day after all, and returned to his company with light steps.

-

“Jongin, where’s my caramel latte?”

“Uh. Inside the bags?”

“These are all Americanos.”

“Uh…”

“Jongin,” the saccharinely-sweet voice took on a dangerous tone, “You know what, I think I need the blueprints by 2pm today.”

When I copied and pasted the entire chapter from msword, the colours embedded inside disappeared. I had to manually change the font colours, so I apologise if I missed any!