A year after Minho was born, he could already see faint, almost invisible, pink lines floating in the air whenever either one of his parents were around. Whenever he saw them, he would reach for the pink lines, attempting to touch and feel what they were. His parents thought that he was only reaching for them and they felt happy, paying no mind to what baby Minho was doing. But no matter how hard Minho tried to reach for the pink line, he could never reach it.

                When Minho was five years old, he noticed faint pink lines connected to the fingers of other people. When he asked his parents, their eyebrows would furrow in worry and they would smile at him and say, “Oh, don’t worry about it, honey. It’s just your imagination.”

                He was taken to a few different doctors for that.

                When Minho was ten years old, he figured that telling anyone about the faint lines that he sees is no use. No one believed him anyway. And he was tired of seeing a doctor for something he knew wasn’t just a figment of his imagination.

                At this time of his life, he found that the lines have become a darker colour, nearly red, and he even noticed that there’s a line tied around his own pinky. The end of the line disappeared into the distance and he wondered if it was connected to anybody else.

                At twelve years old, Minho discovered that the lines were in fact not lines, but red thread that tied people together. It was also then that he learned what they were, the red strings of fate.

                He would smile whenever he saw the thread connecting his parents and he was thankful that they found each other. He was careful not to show his smiles. He didn’t want to come in contact with another doctor, even when he was physically ill.

                When Minho was fourteen, he came across something that he didn’t think of before. He had made friends with two males, both smaller than him, whose red strings were tied around each other’s pinky.

                In his whole life, he hadn’t encountered anything like that and when he thought about it then, yes, fated love between people of the same gender was also possible.

                Of course he had to think about this when they were introducing themselves to each other. The two males connected with the same thread started to think that he was mute until, of course, he said his name using his deep voice and startled the two.

                Jonghyun and Kibum – his two new friends – had been friends ever since the latter was born. They lived right across from each other and they have always gone to the same school. However, they were never in the same class since Jonghyun was born a year before Kibum – who was the same age as Minho and was in the same class. They still hung out together every time they could and they decided to recruit Minho into their mini-group.

                Minho accepted the offer.

                After he met the two, he became one of the most popular guys in school. It didn’t help that he was also the school’s rising soccer star.

                He was happy with his life then, though he had to learn how to ignore the red strings while playing soccer, lest he thought about it for too long and end up getting an injury while wondering about things too much.

=== ^_^ ===

                Whenever they hung out, he would idly watch, a bit irritated that Kibum and Jonghyun aren’t seeing each other in the ‘lover’ sort of sense when they have known each other for so long. It was painfully obvious to anyone but them that the other won’t have eyes for anyone else. Anyone would notice even without the power to see the red strings of fate.

                Whenever he was with the would be couple – he just knew it would happen sometime soon – he would look at his own hand and sigh, wondering who it was that his thread was connected to.

                “Why are you looking at your hand so seriously? Do you hate it or something?” Jonghyun would ask.

                Minho would let out a short arrogant laugh and stare at the older teen with a smirk.

                “No,” he would say. “I’m just staring at my beautifully long and slender fingers.”

                “What?” Jonghyun would reply. “You don’t have beautiful fingers at all! You have gross man hands! Unlike me,” he held up his hands and wiggled his fingers for emphasis.

                Kibum would always watch this exchange with a raised brow.

                “Okay,” he would always say. “Minho has man hands and you have girly fingers. Can we shut up and continue studying now?”

                Minho would roll his eyes and think to himself, ‘What kind of studying are you doing when all you do is stare at the other’s face when he’s not looking?’. He would purse his lips as he stared at them. ‘Oh wait, never mind.’

=== OwO ===

                Ever since he met Jonghyun and KIbum, there were times when he would feel a tug at his pinky, a constricting feeling at the base of the smallest finger of his left hand and a slight pull on it. He would always dismiss the feeling as something random and that there was no meaning behind it despite the number of times it happened.

                Usually, the tugging at his pinky happened when Kibum invited him over to his house to hang out. On those days, Minho usually had either soccer practice or a massive amount of homework – that Kibum somehow always finishes before the next school day – or a huge test to study for – that Kibum somehow aces despite hanging out the day before. Therefore, Minho always refused. When he got home on those days, he always got a heavy feeling in his chest and a feeling that something was missing from his day.

                He pondered about what that something was but he always ended up getting a headache and falling asleep.

=== >w< ===

                When Minho was fifteen, he ended up in a different class as Kibum but their small group of friends managed to meet each other during lunch and talk before classes started. It was at this time that Kibum started mentioning another person’s name. Someone neither he nor Jonghyun had met before. It was an amazingly rare case for that to happen.

                Whenever he heard that person’s name, he would get a light feeling in his chest. He would practice the person’s name in his head and giggle to himself like a high school girl was prone to do. And whenever he does so, he’s see a red glow from the corners of his eyes. Whenever he checks, however, the glow would disappear and he would always wonder if it was real or only his imagination.

=== *w* ===

                A year later, the tug on his finger became a regular thing. Every time at lunch, there was a tug towards the cafeteria. When Kibum offered a ride home, there was a tug compelling him to go. While waiting for the bus home, there was a tug that told him not to go on the bus.

                Every time, he would shake the feeling off and he would go against the feeling.

                It became definite then, that whenever he thought of that person’s name, the thread tied around him would glow. It was then that he became convinced, yes, he had found his match.

=== ^w^ ===

                “Minho!” Kibum called him one day after school.

                He had been waiting at the school gates for his brother for the latter was going to take him to a soccer game that they both were going to participate in later.

                He turned around to find Kibum walking towards him with Jonghyun in tow.

                “Hey, are you free after school?” Kibum asked, flipping his asymmetrical raven fringe into place.

                “No, sorry. I have a soccer game to go to,” he answered.

                “That ,” Kibum nodded at Jonghyun. “I was going to –“

                The raven-haired teen was interrupted by a honk from a car just outside the school gates. All three of them turned to look at the car’s driver, who waved at them.

                “There’s my bro,” Minho turned back to Kibum and Jonghyun, adjusting the bag on his shoulder in the process. “What were you saying?”

                “I said I was going to introduce you to Taemin,” the soccer star froze when he heard Kibum utter that name. “You know, the guy I keep telling you about.”

                Minho stared at him in shock, not believing how much bad luck he just has. His thoughts were, once again, interrupted by a honk. His brother was getting impatient.

                “Ah,” Kibum said. “You should probably get going. I’ll introduce you two next time.”

                He sighed before he loaded his bag into the back seat of the car and sat himself in the passenger seat, his mind blank from utter disbelief.

                As his brother drove away, Minho noticed a bobbing figure from the corner of his eye. The black bowl cut style hair bounced as the boy, younger than them probably, jogged up to Kibum, who happily embraced him with his arms.

                He watched as Kibum motioned to the boy and then to Jonghyun and back to the boy.

                Everything clicked. That younger boy was Taemin, his fated one, the one whose name created a tugging feeling on his pink and a heavy feeling in his stomach.

                He cursed under his breath, something he never did especially in the presence of family.It was official. He had the worst luck ever.