Chapter Text
Minho considered himself a bit of a romantic. Sure, he’d been single for a while and hadn’t actively tried to pursue anyone since his early years of college, but that didn’t stop him from dreaming, especially of the day he’d fall in love with his soulmate.
Colors were such a foreign concept to him. Sure, he knew they existed, but he couldn’t help the curiosity that tickled his mind when thinking about it, trying to imagine what a non-greyscale world would look like. Chan and Felix said colors were beautiful, and Minho couldn’t wait for the day when he could finally agree, and then proceed to buy every color of flower to give to the one that had literally colored his world.
No one really remembered a time before soulmates existed, a time where maybe humans could see in color before finding their person, a time where maybe you didn’t have a special person at all. Everyone had a soulmate, at least, that’s what most people believed, and the majority of people eventually found theirs, falling in love and becoming capable of perceiving the colorful hues of a sunset, the red oranges and pinks that Minho had read about, or the vibrance of a grassy field. Minho knew his time would come, and he waited patiently to suddenly see the bursts of color, and feel the warmth and love in his heart that would stay with him forever. He just never expected for it to happen the way it did.
Han Jisung was Minho’s best friend. They had met in university, both in the same year since Minho had taken a gap year, and Minho couldn’t help but become quite fond of the fluffy haired boy with the gummy smile that always found a way to brighten Minho’s day. After only a semester, they were the closest of friends, clicking like nothing Minho had ever experienced, and three years later, as they were preparing to graduate, they decided to move in together since they would no longer have dorms to stay in.
Jisung was a nurse at the local hospital, and he sometimes spent long shifts across town, arriving home tired and sometimes a bit delirious. He loved what he did, he always told stories about his many funny or crazy patients in the ER, and Minho adored that about his best friend, how selfless and giving he was, how much he wanted to help people. Minho was just a businessman, working for a local tech company, and though he’d always been drawn to dance, he hadn’t pursued his aspirations the way Jisung had.
It was at the end of one of these long shifts of Jisung’s, the younger arriving home exhausted and craving food, that Minho first noticed something changing.
Like most nights when Minho knew Jisung would be coming home in the dead of night, he stayed up, preparing some fried rice for his friend to eat since he knew he’d be famished. It was almost 4 in the morning when Jisung all but stumbled through the front door of their apartment, dark colored scrubs creased and hospital ID pinned crookedly to his top.
“That smells amazing,” he practically moaned, collapsing on the stool by the kitchen island, a hand running through his dark hair and ruffling it.
“Too bad none of it’s for you,” Minho remarked emotionlessly, scooping the meal into a bowl.
Jisung whined, jutting his lip out to pout at the older as his dark eyes pleaded. “Minho~”
Minho pretended to be annoyed as he rolled his eyes, placing the bowl and utensils down in front of Jisung, watching the boy’s lips break into a tired grin. Jisung giggled as he began to chow down on the delicious food, still smiling up at his friend across the counter.
Minho shook his head, leaning against the tiled countertop. “So how was work?”
Jisung shrugged. “Nothing too interesting. A couple of minor accident victims, some sick older folks, a toddler with a fever that wouldn’t break. The usual, really.”
“No pretty drunk girls flirting with you?” Minho teased, referring to a patient Jisung had told him about from a few nights ago.
Jisung laughed, shaking his head. “No, thankfully not.”
“Oh come on, you totally loved the attention!”
“Not when I’m trying to work,” Jisung whined. “She kept trying to wander from her bed to find me while I was working. I was this close to putting a sedative in her IV so she’d be too tired to walk!”
Minho laughed, watching Jisung’s heart-shaped smile turn his eyes into crescent moons.
Cute.
It was then that Minho noticed something unusual, a flicker of something on Jisung’s scrubs, just a blink, like light flashed on it or something else odd. He squinted, head tilting, trying to figure out what he’d just seen.
“What you looking at? Do I have a stain on my shirt?” Jisung asked with a small quirk of his eyebrows.
Minho shook his head. “Nothing, just thought I saw something for a second.” He must be seeing things. “I think I’m just tired, I should probably go to bed.”
Jisung hummed with a nod. “Okay, get some rest.”
Minho saluted as he made his way to his bedroom. “Goodnight Jisungie.”
“Night Min!”
~*~
See, that’s how it started: a glimmer of something small, that grew like a seed. Before Minho knew it, he was noticing these strange phenomena quite frequently. Something odd with Jisung’s hair a few weeks later, the street lights looking strange a few days later, something being wrong with the apple Minho was eating ever sooner after that.
And it was that apple that made Minho suddenly realize what was going on, because unlike the previous times, where it was merely a glimpse, this time, it lasted.
Color. Minho stared at the apple he’d bitten into, eyes wide as he sat back at his desk, hand cradling the fruit like it was something precious. He’d always been told he’d know it when he saw it, but he couldn’t believe his eyes, the glimmering, warm color of the red apple, standing stark against his greyscale world, like a beautiful painting.
Minho couldn’t wait, hand scrambling for his phone as he continually glanced back towards what was supposed to be his snack, making sure it didn’t disappear.
Minho: Channie!!!!
Chan: Hey min whats up
Minho: Ik this sounds kinda crazy but I think I’m starting to see colors
Chan: FOR REAL?? OMG that’s great Min!
Minho: I kinda can’t believe my eyes
Chan: Do you wanna get dinner with me tonight? We should celebrate!!
Minho: Sungie’s out for the night at work so yeah that sounds great!
Within the hour, Minho was at his favorite sushi place with Chan, his and Jisung’s close friend from university. Chan had found his soulmate, Felix, a few years ago, and had spent many nights gushing to Minho about how amazing colors were, how wonderful it felt to fall in love and find your person. It was only fitting that Chan be the one that Minho gushed to about the sudden occurrence.
“So when did you first notice it?” Chan asked after they were seated, embracing briefly, and digging into their food.
Minho shrugged, his soft sweater slipping off his shoulder ever so slightly at the movement. “I think I noticed something weird the first time a little over a month ago, but today was the first time where it actually, like, stuck, you know?”
Chan nodded, remembering how color came to him in glimpses too. “So then, who’s the lucky person? If you’re seeing color then that means you’re falling for the one.”
Minho poked hesitantly at his roll with his chopsticks, biting the inside of his cheek.
“Oh come on,” Chan laughed lightheartedly, his dark curly hair seeming to bounce with the sound. “You have to have an idea who it is. It only happens when you start to love them, so who are you in love with?”
“That’s just it…” Minho sighed, leaning back in his chair. “If it’s who I think it is, it doesn’t make sense because I’ve loved him all along, but for some reason, it’s different now. I don’t know how or why, but it's almost like the colors themselves were telling me that it was more than I thought.”
“I’m not sure I get what you mean-”
“It’s Jisung,” Minho blurted out, cheeks reddening in embarrassment. Surely Chan wouldn’t tease him for apparently falling for his best friend, right?
Chan’s grin only grew wider. “Jisung? Oh my god that’s perfect, that makes complete sense! You two would be perfect together!”
“But like, I’ve always loved him, he’s my best friend, so why did it take so long? Why now? I don’t understand… I’d never even really thought about it until I noticed the colors and made the connection myself. He’s always just been Jisung to me.”
“But has he?” Chan raised an eyebrow. “The colors won’t come unless it’s romantic love, and I’ve seen how you look at him. I’ve never seen you act like you do when you’re with him. Honestly I always thought you had a secret crush on him, so maybe you really did have feelings for him, you just didn’t realize until recently.”
Minho hummed. “Do you think he’ll feel the same?”
Chan smiled encouragingly. “Of course he will; you two are best friends, and he’s your soulmate. If he hasn’t already fallen for you, I’m sure he will soon.”
~*~
The days begin to blur together, as color slowly bleeds into Minho life, speck by speck. First it’s reds, then purples, blues, and earthy tones of brown. Not everything is colored yet, but Minho’s grey life was slowly blossoming with vibrant hues he’d only dreamed of seeing.
As was his feelings for his best friend.
Minho thought he was stupid for never having realized how much he actually adored the younger man. He’d always thought it was platonic, but there was nothing platonic about the way butterflies erupted in Minho’s stomach when Jisung smiled, or when Jisung’s head rested so perfectly in the crook of Minho’s neck during their movie nights. And the more Minho paid attention, the more he found himself falling hopelessly in love.
He often wondered if Jisung was experiencing it too, if he was starting to see the same beautiful hues Minho could, but the older was just a bit too shy to ask, afraid of looking like a fool if Jisung hadn’t figured out who they are to each other, and certainly not ready to just up and tell his best friend “Hey, I’m your soulmate by the way.” No, Minho would wait for Jisung to come to the conclusion on his own.
Granted, it was easy to assume Jisung probably wasn’t as progressed in his feelings as Minho was, seeing as the younger boy was still going on dates a couple nights a week on his free days. Jisung was surprisingly busy in the dating scene for his busy schedule, and had been for quite a while. Minho always enjoyed hearing the stories about some of Jisung’s crazy adventures with strangers, but now, the knowledge left the smallest bitter aftertaste in his mouth, wishing that maybe he could be the one Jisung was taking on dates, rather than these people from Tinder.
“Do you ever wonder what colors are like?” Minho finally asked one day, the desire to know Jisung’s feelings becoming almost too much to wait.
Jisung tilted his head, blinking cutely at the older with a pout from his seat on the couch.
“Not really,” Jisung shrugged, leaning back leisurely.
Minho hummed. “I do sometimes. Colors sound so pretty, and plus it means you get to find your soulmate. I think it’s really poetic that the one you’re destined to love is the one that more or less brings color to your world.”
Jisung smiled softly. “Yeah, I guess it is pretty poetic.”
“Do you not want that someday?”
Jisung ran a hand over the grey material of the couch. “I don’t know. It’s not that I don’t want my soulmate, soulmates are cool and all, and I’m sure colors are great, but I’m not gonna rely on the universe to find love. Love can exist without destiny or colors and things like that, so if I fall for someone that isn’t my soulmate, then so be it.”
“I mean I get that… But what about them? If you love someone else, what are they meant to do?” Minho couldn’t help the question, not liking the way his heart twisted in disappointment at Jisung’s words.
“I mean that’s not really my concern if they’re not in my life, but they can find love too.” Jisung smiled again. “Why should my life revolve around the possibility of whether or not I meet this one person? Why should I wait around for someone that I may never find, when I can still be out there loving someone, you know?”
But that was the thing. As Minho grew to be able to see every shade of the rainbow in those short months, and his love for his best friend grew deeper and deeper, he knew Jisung’s sentiment simply wasn’t possible. If Jisung loved someone else, and not Minho, Minho couldn’t simply just move on and act like his connection to the younger didn’t exist. He couldn’t erase his feelings, and he could never love someone the way he loved Jisung. Now that Minho knew and accepted what they were, he couldn’t fathom a universe where he wasn’t helplessly falling for the bright eyed boy with fluffy brown hair and a gummy smile.
But Minho still understood where Jisung was coming from, he understood not wanting to just wait and wait for the one to arrive, he understood wanting to love whoever he could, because Jisung had a lot of love to give the world. As hard as it was to watch Jisung go out and enjoy other people, with eyes on everyone but Minho, Minho still couldn’t help but appreciate that aspect of his soulmate as well, loving how open minded and giving Jisung was.
Minho had wanted to tell Jisung, during that conversation in the middle of autumn, about how he could see colors, how he’d found his one, but he couldn’t face Jisung with that quite yet, chickening out when he realized it would mean he’d have to confront the younger about his feelings. The odds of Jisung rejecting him were practically zero, he knew, because they were soulmates afterall, but it was still scary, to come out to your best friend of several years with something that would ultimately completely change the dynamic of their relationship. So Minho waited, secretly hoping that Jisung would figure it out on his own.
So Minho waits… and waits. Watching from afar, cherishing their cuddling during movie nights and pretending his best friend's touch doesn’t make his heart race and mind turn to mush, memorizing every smile and laugh, the way the light reflects so perfectly in his shining brown eyes. Minho was so whipped, but he couldn’t help it, and he didn’t care. He loved Jisung with every fiber of his being, and he would wait however long he needed to for that love to be returned. In the meantime, he would wait, and watch, and hold his love in his heart.
~*~
“You have to tell him, Min,” Felix chided over their cup of coffee, warm lights of the cafe clearly lighting up the constellation of freckles on his cheeks.
Minho groaned, pouting. “But-”
“It’s been six months!” Chan almost laughed. “Minho, even if he wasn’t your soulmate, six months is a long time to hold onto feelings for someone and not tell them. Don’t you think he deserves to know?”
Minho sighed, glancing out the window to watch how the blossoms of the trees waved in the spring breeze. It was his first spring being able to see the bright colors of the flowers, and he was so mesmerized by them, much like he was by Jisung’s vibrant smile. “But what if he isn’t ready? I mean shouldn’t he come to terms with it on his own?”
“‘Come to terms,’ Min you make it sound like it's something horrible. You’re his best friend, and his soulmate. He’ll be ecstatic!” Felix tried to reassure him.
“Not everyone realizes the same way,” Chan adds. “Felix and I were lucky to fall for each other at the same time, but like, my parents didn’t. My mom fell for my dad and told him, and so they developed the relationship from there.”
“But you know how he is about, like, dating and stuff. I’m just… What if he’s disappointed?”
Chan reached across the table to grab Minho’s hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. “Minho, I promise you, Jisung would never want to hurt you. And you’re an amazing person who Jisung already adores, so even if the feelings aren’t mutual yet, Jisung won’t have to force himself to love you. It’ll come naturally once he knows, just like it was for you.”
Minho took a deep breath, trying to fight the nerves that were building inside. “Okay, I’ll tell him tonight when he gets home.”
~*~
To say Minho was nervous was an understatement, but he was also so excited, fidgeting relentlessly as he sat on the smooth fabric of the couch, the clock ticking just past midnight as he waited for Jisung to arrive home. He wasn’t quite sure where the younger was that night, Jisung just having told him that he was going out and would be back late, but Minho didn’t mind. He was fine with waiting; it gave him more time to think.
How do you go about telling your best friend that you’re destined to love each other for your whole lives? How do you tell your best friend that you’re completely head over heels for them? Minho ran it over in his mind, over and over again, debating what to say and how to say it, and wondering about Jisung’s reaction. Minho knew Chan and Felix were right, that soulmate connections weren’t always mutual at the start, but they were also right that he and Jisung were very close, and Jisung would never hurt him. This soulmate thing went both ways, and they would navigate the new territory together. Minho just had to fess up.
At a quarter past midnight, Minho finally heard the jingle of keys in the lock, his heart shooting into his throat at the sound, realizing the love of his life was literally behind the door.
And he was about to confess to him.
Deep breaths, Minho, deep breaths.
Jisung came through the doorway with a wide smile, looking absolutely elated to see the older, and for a moment, Minho let himself hope, hope that maybe Jisung had worked it out on his own, and that's why he was so excited.
“Minho!” The younger exclaimed, leaping onto the couch and tackling the older in a hug. “I’m so glad you’re still awake! I have something exciting to tell you!”
Minho couldn’t help the grin on his face, Jisung's happiness just too contagious to fight. “Oh yeah?” Minho giggled, poking Jisung in the sides to get him off of him. “And what is it you want to tell me?”
Do you love me? Like I love you?
Jisung finally settled on the couch, still grinning from ear to ear. “I have a girlfriend!”
Minho felt like his whole world flipped on its head, like he’d been shoved underwater and tied to rocks, left to sink to the endless bottom. His heart was ripping itself in half, thorned vines weaving around it and squeezing, making it hard to breathe.
Jisung, however, wasn’t aware of the turmoil he’d just sent the older into, and so he continued, still smiling as brightly as the sun, unknowing that Minho was too far underwater to feel its warmth. “Remember Minji? The cute girl I told you about a few months ago? Well she and I really hit it off on that date we went on, so we kept seeing each other, and, god, I don’t know, she’s just so perfect, Min. I know it happened kind of fast, but I just fell completely in love with her. So, tonight, I took her out to a nice restaurant and we saw a movie together, and I told her I loved her. And, I can’t even believe it, but she feels the same, and so now we’re officially together! I can’t wait for you to meet her, Min. You two will be great friends, I’m sure.”
“That’s great, Sungie.” Minho hoped he hid the crack in his voice better than it sounded to him. “I’m happy for you.” He hoped his smile wasn’t as fake looking as it felt.
Jisung’s grin only grew wider as he drew the older in for a tight hug, and Minho couldn’t help but feel relieved, hiding his face in Jisung’s hoodie so as to not let Jisung see the pain in his eyes. “Thank you, Min. You’re the best, you know?”
Minho choked on a laugh. He didn’t feel like it. No, he felt like a horrible friend, unable to be happy for Jisung falling in love. He should be celebrating with the younger, but instead, it was taking all his strength not to cry. “No you.”
Minho couldn’t tell Jisung the truth, didn’t dare ruin this happy moment for his best friend. Jisung had found love, just like he wanted, so what right did Minho have to step in and demand that love for himself? Jisung’s happiness was worth more than his own, so he decided to stay quiet, saving his tears until he was alone in his bed, with only his sheets and pillows to witness his heartbreak.
~*~
Jisung was right, Minji was an absolute pleasure to be around. Minho had been bitter, and he had wanted to hate her so bad, but he couldn’t help but soften the moment she introduced herself, with a warm smile and bouncy, shoulder length hair. Her laughter was bright, with a personality to match, and she met Jisung’s wittiness and humor with equal fervor, making the two capable of bouncing off each other for hours on end, smiles and giggles the whole way.
Minho’s heart may have ached and longed for Jisung’s smile to be directed at him, but he couldn’t help the warmth he felt seeing Jisung so happy. Jisung was in love, and Minho swore, his love was as bright and colorful as the spring flowers that bloomed outside their home. Minho may have cried himself to sleep often in those days, weeks, and months, but he couldn’t be angry, not when the one he loved was so filled with joy.
“I can’t imagine my life without her now,” Jisung told him one day. “I just love her so much. She’s everything to me. I want her to be the one I spend the rest of my life with. I know she’s not my soulmate, but honestly, I don’t really care, and neither does she. We can love each other just the same.”
The way Jisung looked when he spoke about Minji, with his eyes sparkling and smile unwavering, it's how Minho felt when he thought about Jisung, and Minho wasn’t sure if that thought was more reassuring, or haunting. This wasn’t some short fling, this was real love, between two people who gravitated towards each other like they were always meant for one another.
Like they were soulmates.
Maybe the universe had made a mistake. Perhaps it was Minji and Jisung who were meant to fall in love, and Minho wasn’t supposed to be a part of the equation. Minho sometimes was haunted by the question, the thought of what would happen if Jisung learned the truth, that Minho was his soulmate: would he choose Minji, or him?
Minho knew the answer, but no matter how many times he told himself to toughen up, to be happy for Jisung, he couldn’t escape the make-believe scenario in his head, of Jisung’s disdained face after learning the truth, of him turning his back on Minho and leaving him, denying his love and devotion for a girl that wasn’t his soulmate. And Minho hated himself for the thoughts, knew he was being selfish and far too harsh, but it still scared him, the knowledge that he wasn’t even who his soulmate wanted.
If he wasn’t good enough for Jisung, then how could he ever be enough for anyone else? How could he ever be loved if even his soulmate didn’t love him?
After several months, Minho began to accept his fate, that he’d always be on the sidelines of his soulmate’s life, that he’d watch the love of his life someday get married, have kids, and grow old with someone else, and Minho would just have to be content with that. At least he could still be a part of it, if not directly. Jisung would always be his best friend, and maybe he would be his best man someday; that’d be the closest he’d ever get to a wedding with the love of his life.
With that knowledge, Minho grew closer with Minji, since she was over so often, and found himself enjoying the hours spent with her, laughing and smiling more with her than he felt capable sometimes, because she was so good at drawing out the best in everyone. Minho honestly felt a million times lighter around her, and was grateful to know that Jisung’s heart was in good hands.
“Minnie~” Jisung whined one afternoon. “Baby~”
Minho couldn’t help but tense ever so slightly, hearing the nickname he shared with Minji, but knowing the endearing tone wasn’t meant for him.
“No~” Minji giggled in the same tone, shooing her boyfriend away from the stove. “If you try to cook you’ll burn the apartment down.”
Jisung pouted, wrapping his arms around her middle, chin resting on her shoulder. “Minho, tell her I’m not that bad.”
“I mean,” Minho snickered, “you did turn a pizza into ash the last time you used the oven.”
Jisung gaped in mock betrayal while Minji only laughed, booping her beloved boyfriend on the nose with a blinding smile. “See? Even Minho agrees with me. Now shoo and let me cook.”
Jisung pouted some more, waddling over to Minho and wrapping his arms around the older’s waist instead, face buried in the back of his neck. “Min would never treat me this way,” Jisung whined, tightening his hold on Minho middle.
Minho did his best to not let his heart leap the way it wanted to at the touch. It doesn’t mean anything to him.
Instead, Minho laughed, the sound bright and airy despite the tightness in his chest. “Well I never have to since you practically expect me to cook for you at this point.”
“I do not,” Jisung whined even louder. “I should’ve never introduced you two, all you do is gang up on me!”
Minji laughed at that. “You know we love you, baby.”
“Nuh-uh,” Jisung shook his head. “Is that true Minho, do you love me?” Jisung looked at Minho with the cutest doe eyes, and Minho thought he might as well have been the equivalent of a puddle in the face of such adorableness.
More than you’ll ever know.
“Nah, I think I like Minji more.”
“I’ve been betrayed!” Jisung cried.
Minji and Minho only laughed at Jisung’s faux anguish, sharing fond grins with one another as Minji continued to cook away across the countertop.
~*~
It had been about seven months since Minji joined the fray, seven months of watching the love of his life give his undying love to someone else, seven months of the crippling reminder that he’d never be enough. And it had been just over a year of the beautiful colors, of having his world inked like a painting by the one person his heart belonged to. It was beautifully tragic, in a way, to know that you can see the beauty of the world in all its colorful glory because of one person who has yet to witness it, and never will. Minho wished that even if Jisung never loved him back, he could still somehow share this beauty with the younger, give him the color that made everything so lively and warm. He’d gladly give it all up, going back to shades of grey and black for the rest of his life, if it meant that Jisung could have the color instead. If nothing else, Minho could at least give him that.
But he couldn’t, not unless Jisung loved him in return, and Minho knew that was nothing but a fantasy, so he could only sit, watching Jisung’s warm brown eyes fill with light as he wrapped an arm over Minji, the way his purple hoodie crinkled and shifted from the movement, the way his dark brown hair ruffled when he shook his head. It was Jisung’s 23rd birthday, and they’d be having friends over to celebrate. Minji had arrived early to help Minho with the cooking and baking, and now they sat in wait, enjoying each other’s company and anticipating the arrival of the rest of the party.
Minho had tuned out of the conversation a while ago, still laughing, smiling, or nodding when appropriate, but otherwise, just watching. Watching the love in Jisung’s eyes when he gazed at the small girl beside him, the way his eyes turned into pretty crescent moons when he laughed, the way he hid his face in Minji’s shoulder when the hilarity became too much and his laugh echoed through the walls of their home.
Minho should’ve been happy, seeing Jisung so exuberant, so himself around the one he loved. Minho should’ve just wanted Jisung to feel loved, but deep down, no matter how much he scolded himself, he was still selfish. He was a horrible person, he knew, for being unable to fully let go, to be happy for his friends, but it were as though the thorned vines of his heartbreak were filled with poison, darkening his heart, filling him with desires that he knew were unfair. It wasn’t Jisung’s fault, nor was it Minji’s; Minho had no one to blame but himself, but there was always that tiny voice in the back of his mind.
I wish that were me.
“Chan and Felix are here!” Jisung exclaimed, finally pulling Minho from his wandering thoughts. “I’m gonna head downstairs to let them in. I’ll be right back!”
“Don’t get lost,” Minji giggled as she pressed a soft kiss to Jisung’s lips.
“I’ll do my best,” Jisung laughed in reply, grabbing his keys and heading out the door.
Minho smiled fondly after him, lost for a moment in the fantasy of how soft Jisung’s lips would feel against his, when a soft voice spoke up from the seat across from him.
“You love him, don’t you?”
Minho blinked in surprise at the question Minji had given him.
“Of course I do,” Minho laughed a bit awkwardly. “He’s my best friend.”
“No,” she shook her head, face betraying nothing about her thoughts. “I mean, you’re in love with him.”
Minho nearly short circuits, eyes wide as he stares at his friend. He could deny it, but his reaction had surely already given him away. “I… Minji, look, I-”
“I’m not mad,” she laughed lightly. “You don’t have to make excuses.”
Minho breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that Jisung’s girlfriend was such a kind and understanding person as he played with his fingers in his lap.
“He’s your soulmate, isn’t he?”
Minho’s eyes widened once more, eyebrows practically shooting into his hairline as it felt like his heart came to a stop. “Is… is it that obvious?” he breathed.
She hummed sadly. “Not exactly, but I noticed the way you look at him, how you speak about him, and it hit me that there might be more to it when I saw how you sort of involuntarily flinch whenever soulmates come up, especially whenever Jisung says he doesn’t care about his.”
“Does Jisung know?” Minho’s question came out barely a whisper, feeling a sting in his eyes at the mere thought that maybe Jisung had known the truth all along.
“No,” Minji assured with a sad smile, standing up to come sit next to Minho, a gentle, soft hand resting on his arm. “At least, he hasn’t acted like or even hinted at the fact that he might know something. As far as he’s concerned, you're his best friend.”
Minho grunted slightly, frown deepening in his features.
“I’m sorry, Min,” Minji frowned, thumb rubbing gently over Minho’s skin in an attempt to be comforting. “If I’d known before, I-”
Minho shook his head, cutting her off before she said something that would only make Minho hurt even more. “It doesn’t matter,” he said, voice thick with the emotions he’d shoved so far down inside for so long. “He’s happy, you make him happy, and that’s more important. You two love each other more than anything and I’d never want to come in between that.”
“But it does matter,” Minji disagreed, sad eyes watching the turmoil clearly present in Minho’s sad eyes. “You’re his soulmate, and he’s yours. You two are meant for each other, and it’s clear that you love him more than anything else. It’s admirable that you’d put his happiness before yours, that you care that much for him, but you’re in pain, Minho. I can’t imagine what it’s like to see your soulmate with someone else. It has to be torture for you.”
“Whether it is or isn’t, Jisung loves you, not me. He doesn’t care about his soulmate, and love can exist without that bond. He should be allowed to love without me interfering.”
Minji squeezed his arm ever so slightly. “He wouldn’t say those things if he knew it was you.”
Minho didn’t have the energy to disagree, but he couldn’t bring himself to believe her.
There was a long silence, filled only by Minho’s heavy breathing and Minji’s comforting touch on his arm. He was grateful that Minji was so kind and understanding, but maybe too kind. Jisung was her boyfriend, so she shouldn’t be focused on comforting someone so helplessly in love with her man, someone who could ruin everything she had with Jisung.
Jisung really did have the greatest girlfriend. They were perfect for each other.
“I’m going to break up with him.”
Minho nearly choked at the statement from the girl beside him, eyes widening to stare at her in disbelief. “What?” His throat was tight, confusion addling his thoughts. “But- You- What?”
“I’m not going to do it tonight, don’t worry,” she assured him. “But I’ve given it a lot of thought recently, and I think it's for the best.”
“But you love him,” Minho argued. “And he loves you. So much.”
Minji hummed. “I do, and he does, and it won’t be easy, but as much as I love Jisung and he loves me, we aren’t meant for each other. I can’t explain it, but deep down, I just know I’m not where I’m meant to be, that there’s something more out there for me. And he may argue, but I know that he feels it too. Jisung may be adamant that soulmates aren’t important, but if there’s one thing I’ve realized from this relationship with him, it’s that he’s wrong.”
Minho stared, not trusting himself to speak, afraid of whether he’d sound heartbroken for his two friends splitting, or relieved that he might once again have a chance with the boy he loved.
“There’s someone out there that the universe designed for me, someone who will make me wholly complete. And Jisung comes close, believe me, he comes so, so close to that perfection that I could almost kid myself into ignoring it, but I know there’s more for both of us, and I can’t ignore it anymore.”
“You’ll break his heart,” Minho finally whispered, seeing the way tears brimmed in her eyes at the thought of the pain she knew she’d cause him.
“I know. But he’ll have you. You’ll help him through it, and then you two can finally be together and complete each other the way you’re meant to. I have to do this, for him, for me, and for you.”
“You don’t,” Minho argued. “You don’t have to end things, especially not for my sake. You two love each other so much, and I don’t want to see either of you hurt.”
She shook her head, her blonde hair shaking at the movement. “It may hurt, but in the end, we’ll both gain even better things from it. You two will be happy, and I’ll find my happiness too, and that’s worth it.”
Minho bit his lip, unable to fight the worry building inside him, worried for how this will affect his friends, especially how it will affect Jisung. As much as he secretly desired to be the one Jisung loved, he didn’t want to see Jisung hurt for the sake of achieving that fantasy.
“I’ll give it a bit of time before I do so, so I don’t ruin his birthday week, but I figured I should tell you, especially so you’re prepared. And don’t worry, I won’t tell him about you. You can come forward to him when you’re both ready, okay?”
Minho couldn’t help but pull the small girl into a tight embrace, overwhelmed by the kindness of her heart. “Thank you,” he mumbled. “For being so good to him, and for making him so happy. I hope you find your person soon.”
~*~
Jisung’s birthday goes by without an issue, filled with laughs and drinks, games and long conversations. Minho doesn’t miss the pitying looks Felix and Chan give him throughout the night, but he ignores them anyway, trying to forget about the whole thing, especially knowing what’s to come.
And it isn’t much more than a week later that Jisung comes home, slamming the front door behind him, causing Minho to wander out of his room cautiously, seeking out what had made the younger clearly upset, even though he likely already knew the answer.
And when Minho saw him, saw the tears in Jisung’s red eyes, the blotchiness of his skin, and his trembling lower lip, Minho felt his heart shatter in his chest worse than ever before. “Oh Sungie,” he breathed when they made eye contact across the living room, immediately rushing across the space to pull Jisung into his arms. Jisung collapsed into his embrace, Minho gently lowering them to sit on the hardwood floor as Jisung buried his face into Minho’s shirt, body shaking with silent sobs as his small fingers tangled into the fabric under them.
“Shh,” Minho whispered gently, one hand carding through the soft locks of Jisung’s hair while the other rubbed soothing circles over his back. “It’s okay, Sungie, I’m here.”
“Sh-sh-she broke up with m-me,” Jisung choked out, squeezing the older even tighter. “She left me, Min.”
Minho placed a soft kiss to Jisung’s temple. “I’m so sorry, Sungie.” He never thought he could experience heartbreak like this, but seeing Jisung so broken was like someone had stabbed Minho with a dull blade, twisting and prodding at his insides with every heart wrenching sob.
“She s-said she wanted t-to f-f-find her soulmate, and me to f-find mine.” Minho’s hold tightens around the younger. “‘s not f-fair. I love her.”
“I know you do,” Minho whispered, doing his best to keep his voice steady.
“She left me for someone she hasn’t even met.”
Minho hummed sadly. “It’ll be okay.” Minho wasn’t sure what to say, how to reassure the younger, how to make him feel better. All he could do was hold him, and hope that he’d be enough to pick up the pieces of his broken heart.
“I hate my soulmate.”
The anger filled words sent and icy chill down Minho’s spine, and he couldn’t help the way his throat tightened. “You don’t mean that,” Minho told him, though with how Jisung had said it, he wasn’t so sure.
“I do. I hate them. This wouldn’t have happened if they just didn’t exist.”
Jisung was right. If Minho hadn’t existed, maybe he and Minji could’ve lived happily together. Minji wouldn’t have felt so guilty about keeping Minho and Jisung apart. Minji could’ve stayed.
“I don’t want anything to do with them, I wish they’d just disappear. I don’t want them. I wanted her.” Jisung’s grip tightened again, voice cracking with grief. “I wish it was her. I wanted it to be her so bad.”
Minho felt like the color might as well have drained from his vision right then from the cold feeling settling inside him, the hollow ache and empty void that was housing the venomous words from the man he loved. Minho realized then that all along, he’d held onto this sliver of hope, the prayer that someday, somehow, maybe things would change, that maybe Jisung and him could be together, that Jisung could love him. But now, even with Jisung being finally single once more, he realized the crippling truth.
There was no chance for them. This heartbreak had soured the idea of soulmates beyond repair for the younger, and even if Minho got lucky and Jisung fell for him, the moment he realized the truth, that they were destined for each other, that love would shrivel and die, turned to hatred and anger for being the cause of losing the woman he loved so dearly. He could never tell Jisung, Jisung could never know the truth, because doing so would mean losing the last tie he had to his soulmate. Minho felt like Jisung and his bond was connected by a series of threads, and slowly but surely, Jisung had cut every last one of them, only one frayed string, representing their friendship, remaining. And when Jisung learned of Minho’s lies, Jisung would sever that last tie, leaving Minho alone to float endlessly through the void, helpless and alone.
In some twisted way, Minho was grateful that Jisung’s cries were so loud, only so he couldn’t hear Minho’s soul shattering inside him.
“You won’t leave me, right Min?” Jisung asked. Another punch to the gut.
Minho squeezed the younger impossibly tight. “I’ll never let you go, I promise. No matter what, I’ll be here, forever.”
~*~
Long after Jisung had fallen asleep from exhaustion, Minho finally cried himself to sleep, tears soaking his pillow and broken sobs muffled by his soft comforter. He awoke the next morning with a small cough and an ache in his chest, but he figured he’d probably caught something and his lack of sleep made it worse, so he busied himself with making healthy food for himself and Jisung, checking on the younger periodically throughout the day, and getting lots of rest.
Jisung was essentially a walking zombie for several days, eyes still red and puffy from tears that refused to end, but after many movies and cuddle sessions, he finally started to resemble a living being again, smile slowly returning to his features. Minho was relieved to know that Jisung wouldn’t stay in his heartbroken rut for too long, though the bitterness and anger still remained under the surface.
After a few weeks, things were mostly back to normal, with the exception of the obvious lack of Minji roaming around the apartment, and Minho’s cough.
It had grown progressively worse over the days, turning into full coughing fits that left the older gasping for air. Minho thought maybe he’d caught bronchitis, since his only symptoms were the cough and the tightness of his chest, so he did his best to sooth it with teas and lots of water, which felt fitting considering Minho felt like he was consistently drowning in his own sorrow. Despite the increase in physical and emotional contact with Jisung over the weeks to help him heal, Minho had never felt so alone, so empty inside. Even Jisung’s gentle touches and cuddles weren’t enough to bring him any amount of fulfillment or happiness. It was just never ending pain and nothingness.
It wasn’t until around the three week mark that Minho finally realized that his mysterious illness might have been something a lot more serious.
He sat in his room, busy sending off some business emails for work, when another fit of coughing hit. Minho gripped the edge of his desk with one hand, the other covering his mouth in an attempt to muffle the sound as it felt like he was nearly suffocating, choking and gasping for air as his body shook with the force. When it finally let up some seconds later, Minho removed his hand from his mouth and could only stare with wide eyes, palm holding in it a lonely pink flower petal, stained crimson with blood.
Minho’s ears were ringing as blood rushed to his head in his panic, darting to the bathroom and locking the door behind him, staring at his reflection with wide eyes. This couldn’t be real, there was no way he’d just coughed up a fucking petal. That disease was a myth, it couldn’t be real.
But as Minho choked on another coughing fit, palm decorated with another pink petal and splattered with blood, Minho had to face the truth. It was real; hanahaki disease, the sickness caused by unrequited love for your soulmate, by your soulmate rejecting you, was real, and Minho had it.
And it would kill him.
Minho gripped the edges of the sink with white knuckles, tears quietly falling down his cheeks as he stared at his lifeless gaze. The bags under his eyes were so much darker than he’d ever seen them, and he noted he looked paler than usual. He really did look like he felt, like death.
Minho wondered if it was really that bad to go out this way, with a flower fed by his deep seeded and endless love, rooting in his heart, filling his lungs and suffocating him until the only thing inside him was the blossom that represented all his pain and loneliness, all his love that had nowhere to go. Surely it wouldn’t be the most painless death, and Minho had thought he’d have longer to live, but what was really the point of living when he already felt empty inside, like a black hole had opened up and swallowed his soul? Minho wasn’t sure if he was afraid to die, but at least death would bring him peace.
No more pain, no more crying, no more suffocating loneliness and despair. Ironically enough, death would be a breath of fresh air in comparison to what he was living with.
Minho dried his tears, taking a forced breath before finally stepping out of the bathroom. If this was his fate, there wasn’t much he could do to fight it, he’d just have to accept it and keep moving. He couldn’t tell his friends, knowing Chan and Felix would absolutely freak out and try to fix it, try to tell Jisung, and Minho didn’t want to spend his last months of life having lost Jisung as well.
And he certainly couldn’t tell Jisung either. Jisung was still angry and bitter about Minji, about soulmates in general, and always would be. He couldn’t exactly tell Jisung that he’d found his soulmate and was now dying because of it, not without causing the younger even more anger and grief. Plus, he didn’t want Jisung to worry about him, or ask too many questions. It was better if he just suffered in silence, like he had been for so long. This disease didn’t change anything, really, just shortened the amount of time he had left to live. Otherwise, he would still be quiet about his pain, still be alone, still have to live with the knowledge that his soulmate wished he didn’t exist.
But even though Minho had accepted his fate, it didn’t make it any easier to go through. Everyday hurt worse than the last, both physically and emotionally, with the disease making his whole body ache and every breath a struggle, and the heartbreak making every smile and laugh feel forced and fake. He barely slept, kept awake by relentless fits of coughing and piles of bloodied petals, and that lack of sleep only allowed his mind to wander down darker paths, Jisungs angry and venomous words echoing in his ears, thoughts of what Jisung would say if he knew the bond he shared with Minho.
“I hate you.”
“I can’t wait for you to die.”
“It’s your fault.”
“I wish we’d never met.”
Some reasonable part of Minho knew that Jisung would never say things quite this harsh to his face, but Minho still knew that Jisung would turn away from him and leave him if the truth came out. The phantom thoughts of “what if” only made Minho cry more tears of sorrow, made Minho feel like the world was crushing him, and all he could do was curl in on himself and protect what was left of his heart, shielding it in some futile attempt to keep it from turning to ash and completely withering away before he was even dead.
He didn’t have much left, so he couldn’t afford to let the remainder of himself slip away quite yet.
Jisung was as blissfully ignorant about what was happening to his best friend as ever, and Minho was at least grateful for that. He didn’t want pity, or sympathy, he didn’t want others to worry about him. Jisung had enough going on trying to mend his own broken heart; he didn’t need to be trying to mend Minho’s too. So Minho did his best to hide his illness from the younger, which was surprisingly easy considering Jisung was a nurse and was normally very attuned to others’ needs, and kept pretending to be okay with fake smiles that didn’t reach his eyes and forced laughs that hurt his chest.
Until the day Jisung got off earlier than usual from work, arriving home to find Minho collapsed on the ground in front of their couch, coughing uncontrollably as he clutched desperately at his chest, unable to catch his breath.
Jisung’s instincts kicked in immediately, crouching to the older’s side and grabbing Minho’s hand, allowing him to squeeze it and ground himself as Jisung rubbed his back soothingly.
“Don’t panic,” he told him calmly. “You’re alright, it will pass, just don’t panic. You’re okay, Min.”
Minho’s eyes were teary from the uncontrollable fit, but he did his best to listen, squeezing Jisung’s hand tightly and leaning his head against the younger’s shoulder, waiting for it to pass and for him to finally be able to breathe again. It took a few minutes, but the coughing eventually subsided to shallow wheezing, and Jisung handed him a glass of water, rubbing his back in comfort.
And then Jisung noticed the bloodied petals on the floor, the crimson red staining Minho’s lips, and suddenly his world was tilting on its axis. He had only seen this once, back during his training, and it was rare as all hell. Minho couldn’t possibly be that sick, there wasn’t any way.
Minho saw Jisung’s shocked gaze staring at the petals, and his head lowered in shame, feeling like he wanted to cry all over again.
“Don’t worry about it,” Minho whispered hoarsely. “Just pretend you didn’t-”
“How long have you been sick?” Jisung asked, eyes pleading with the older for answers, to be honest with him and tell him what was happening. Jisung couldn’t just let this go.
“Two months…”
Jisung made a noise of disbelief, hands desperately grabbing Minho’s. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he cried. “Do you know what this is, how dangerous this disease is? It will kill you, Min!”
“Sung…”
“Who is she? Do I know her?” Jisung was desperate, an obvious sense of fear and anger overtaking him at the realization that Minho had been suffering with such a deadly disease at the hands of some unworthy soulmate this whole time and he didn’t even know. His best friend was dying of a right before his eyes, and he hadn’t even realized.
“He,” Minho corrected. “And yeah, I guess you could say that.”
“Minho, I need you to tell me who he is,” Jisung’s hands had moved to the older’s face, holding it gently, but firm with panic and fear, making Minho watch the emotions swirl in Jisung’s eyes like a storm.
Minho shook his head slightly, avoiding Jisung’s gaze. “I can’t.”
“Minho, he's killing you!” Jisung cried again, voice cracking as tears slipped from his eyes. “I have to talk to him, I have to make him see that he’s hurting you. We need to fix this!”
Minho’s lips trembled as he struggled to keep from sobbing in Jisung’s hold, squeezing his eyes shut to stop the tears as he attempted to take a deep breath. “It’s not that simple, Sungie. Believe me, if it were that easy, I would have fixed this a long time ago.”
“Does… does he even know?” Jisung whispered, and Minho only wished he could erase that frown from Jisung’s face.
“He doesn’t even know that we’re soulmates.”
“Why haven’t you…? Min, why would you hide something like that? You have to tell him, it will fix all of this!”
Minho gripped Jisung’s hand tightly, eyes glimmering with unshed tears. “It won’t. Believe me, Sung, telling him will only make things worse.”
Jisung looked as though the rug had been pulled out from under him, like everything he thought he knew was ripped from his grasp. Perhaps it had been, now knowing that his best friend was on his deathbed. “But he’s your soulmate. Weren’t you the one who was always telling me about how amazing it’d be to fall in love with your soulmate? They’re supposed to love you, and support you, and be your everything. I don’t understand…”
“It’s complicated, but please, just drop it, okay? I can’t tell him, so just leave it at that.”
“Then…” Jisung scrambled for any hope to grasp onto, anything to save Minho from this cruel fate. “Then we can get you the surgery! The hospital can perform it easily enough. You just have to get the flower removed.”
“If I get it removed it takes my love with it,” Minho whispered, “and the colors.”
“They aren’t worth your life, Min! You’re worth more than these feelings for someone that clearly isn’t worth your time or love, who doesn’t deserve you!”
But that’s just it, Jisungie. You are worth it, and so much more. I’d rather die a million of these painful deaths than give up my love for you.
Minho realized that no matter what he said, Jisung would fight him on this, would beg until he was blue in the face to get Minho to save himself, even without knowing the true cost of doing so. If Minho told him the truth, he’d lose him, and if Minho got the surgery to save himself, he would be giving Jisung up. There was no winning, but he’d rather die with his love still held closely to his tattered heart than live having given it up for selfish reasons. So instead of fighting it any further, Minho leaned in, resting his tired body against the younger’s, arms weakly wrapping around Jisung’s slight build and allowing his scent and warmth to give him the tiniest shred of comfort.
“Okay Jisungie,” he whispered. “I’ll call the hospital tomorrow and make an appointment.” It was a lie, but Minho needed to put Jisung’s mind at ease, at least until he could come up with another excuse to stall him. He didn’t want to fight anymore, he was too tired to keep battling the younger.
Jisung held Minho close, positioning them to lean against the couch, arms pulling Minho into his lap as the older wheezed with each breath, fists curled into the blue fabric of his work scrubs.
“I was going to ask you why you never told me you found your soulmate,” Jisung breathed with the hint of a laugh after a while, “but then I realized, well of course you wouldn’t tell me, not when all I’ve done for the past few months is talk about how much I hate soulmates.”
Minho hummed, still burying his face in the crook of Jisung’s neck.
“I’m sorry, Min. I haven’t been a very good friend lately, have I?”
“Don’t say that,” Minho whispered, shifting to look up at the younger while still resting against him. “You’ve been through a lot, and you had your heart broken.”
“So did you,” Jisung pointed out. “And yet you were here comforting me through mine while dealing with your own all alone.”
Minho laced their fingers together, unable to deny the part of him that craved Jisung’s touch so desperately, despite how selfish it was. “It wasn’t your fault. I’m the one who didn’t tell you.”
“And I made you feel like you couldn’t tell me.”
Minho huffed. “Fine, then we’re both in the wrong. But I forgive you.”
Jisung smiled sadly at his friend, squeezing him tighter. “So what’s your soulmate like?”
Under normal circumstances, Minho probably would’ve avoided the question, but he was tired and everything hurt, so he couldn’t bring himself to care. “He’s perfect,” Minho breathed, smiling slightly to himself. “He’s kind and caring, he can make me laugh for hours. He has beautiful eyes and a pretty smile. I love him, more than I ever thought I could love someone, and I would do absolutely anything for him.”
Jisung hummed, squeezing Minho’s hand. “That’s how I felt about Minji. I know what you mean.”
Oh the irony.
“Are colors as beautiful as you thought they’d be?” He asked.
Minho nodded. “And then some. They make everything feel like a work of art.”
“Mmm. What’s your favorite?”
“I like the color mint,” Minho smiled slightly. “It’s a pretty blue-green.”
“Sounds lovely.”
It is, just like you.
They spent a little more time like that, curled up on the floor of the living room, before Jisung helped Minho to his room, quickly changing into sweats and baggy shirts before crawling into bed. Jisung offered to stay with him, and Minho couldn’t refuse, even though he knew it’d only hurt him more.
They’d cuddled and slept in the same bed together plenty of times before, but it felt different now, like the sands of time were slipping away between them, and they didn’t know how much longer they had, which of course, was true. Jisung curled around Minho’s form, wrapping his arms around him to protect him from the pain that he knew he couldn’t take away, wishing his cuddles would be enough to cure his best friend of this tragic disease that ailed him.
For the first time in a very, very long time, Minho was able to sleep with a semblance of peace, even knowing that Jisung was only doing all this because he felt bad. And when he woke the next morning, he found himself mere inches from Jisung’s face, the younger’s hand placed gently on the exposed skin of Minho’s waist, holding him close. Jisung’s touch was soft and warm, and Minho felt so safe in his grasp, protected from everything as he watched the sun reflect off the younger’s golden skin. Minho smiled to himself as he noticed for the first time that Jisung’s adam’s apple was shaped like a heart, just like his smile.
Everything about Jisung was filled with love. If only that love could be for him.
Minho couldn’t stop the tears pricking his eyes as it all crashed into him at once, the reminder that this would never be his future, that he wouldn’t get to wake up every morning to Jisung’s beautiful face, wrapped safely in his arms, never get to kiss him, hold him, tell him he loved him. Jisung didn’t want him, not like that, and they would never be anything other than friends, and that was the fact that was quite literally killing Minho inside, the roots of the flower squeezing his heart ever tighter.
Even now, with Jisung in his bed mere inches away, Minho was still alone. Always, forever, alone.
“Minnie?” Jisung’s sleep addled voice brought Minho back to the present, realizing he was silently crying into his pillow, the younger’s eyes filled with worry and concern as they watched him.
Jisung pulled Minho into his arms as Minho began to cry harder, the pain in his chest suddenly overwhelming. “It hurts,” he cried. “It hurts so much.”
All Jisung could do was hold him, his own tears for his best friend getting lost in the soaking sheets and Minho’s heartbroken sobs.
~*~
Minho “scheduled” his surgery in a week’s time, purposely overlapping it with the couple days Jisung would be leaving town to visit his parents. Jisung swore up and down that he could cancel, that he could stay to be there for Minho’s procedure and take care of him afterward, but Minho insisted he go, promising the younger he would be fine, and he’d see him when he got home.
Of course, it was all a lie, and Minho never scheduled a surgery, nor would he. He didn’t know what he’d tell his friend when he returned home to find Minho still in their apartment, no better off then he’d left him and one step closer to death, but he could cross that bridge when they got there. For now, he tried to enjoy what little time he had left, as Jisung fussed over taking care of him and helping him through his horrendous coughing fits. He even cooked for him, a rarity in itself to see him in the kitchen, and Minho was pleasantly surprised that the homemade chicken soup was actually pretty good, even though his mouth mostly tasted like blood these days.
Finally, Jisung’s trip arrived, and Jisung gave Minho a crushing hug, worry in his eyes as he wished the older luck in his procedure, promising to be back the next day to see him in the hospital and help him through his recovery. Minho was grateful for Jisung’s kindness and concern, even though it was ultimately unwarranted.
Minho spent the next 24 hours pretty much unmoving on the couch, a glass of water beside him, a blanket pulled over him, and pretty petals piling up around him, a morbid reminder of the fate that was rapidly approaching. The disease had progressed to the point where Minho spent more time coughing up the bloody petals that he did breathing with a semblance of normalcy, and that told Minho that his time would soon be up, even quicker than he thought.
Maybe he’d get lucky and die before Jisung could even arrive home to yell at him for not getting the procedure.
But after torturous and sleepless hours of choking and wheezing, each breath taking an immense amount of strength and hurting like hell, Jisung was finally due to be home soon, and Minho still hadn’t been released from his personal hell.
He was in the middle of attempting to think up an excuse, some way of placating Jisung’s impending fury as he sat at the kitchen island, when another coughing fit hit. Only, this one was different.
As Minho coughed and heaved, he realized in panic that the petals he would normally choke out simply weren’t coming up, that the flower had finally bloomed to the point that it was no longer just an inconvenience in his airways, rather it was fully blocking them now. Minho was suffocating. This was it, his end had arrived.
Minho fell from the stool with a strangled cry, tears in his eyes as he struggled for breath, the panic making it so much worse. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think; all he could do was choke and writhe on the floor, desperately trying to find some way to get the feeling to pass. He thought he was ready to go, but now that he was suffocating, lonely and sobbing on the hardwood floor, all he felt was fear. He was so scared, and so alone, and all he wished for was that Jisung was there, that at least he could spend his last moments in the arms of the man he loved.
But he was alone, no one to take his love, no one to love him in his final moments. Just like he always had been.
Stars danced before his eyes as his vision began to go dark, body still fighting to survive, but his mind unable to keep up. As his consciousness slipped into darkness, he fell away, thinking of the boy he’d failed to love enough. Maybe if he’d loved him more, Jisung would’ve loved him back.
I’m sorry I couldn’t color your world like you colored mine.
~*~
Jisung arrived home with a feeling of dread settling over him. Minho was supposed to be at the hospital, and he trusted the doctors there immensely, but something felt horribly wrong, and he couldn’t shake it. He should’ve gone straight there, but he decided to go home first, to drop off his bags at least.
He hadn’t expected to open the door and be faced with the sight of Minho, with bloody petals around him, motionless on the floor before him.
“Minho?!” Jisung couldn’t even be sure the inhuman shriek was his own, blood turning to ice in his veins as he felt like he might entirely throw up the contents of his breakfast on the spot. This couldn’t be happening, it couldn’t be real. Minho was supposed to be in the hospital, supposed to be okay and healing. He couldn’t lose him.
Jisung was vaguely aware enough that the tears on Minho’s cheeks were still fresh, was vaguely aware enough to call the first responders and beg them to come take Minho to the hospital, but his mind was in a fog, complete panic and terror setting in like a hand around his throat. Jisung was a nurse for god's sake, he dealt with mortally ill and injured patients all the time, but it was so, so much different when the patient was someone so important, so precious to you that you’d rather die than lose them.
Jisung had the wherewithal to check for a pulse, fingers to Minho’s wrist as he pressed his ear to the older’s chest, listening for breath or a heartbeat, any sign that Minho was still there, still hanging on. And it was there, a slow, struggling beat accompanied by faint and shallow wheezing, telling Jisung that Minho was still alive, but barely. He didn’t have much time left.
Jisung tried shoving his fingers down Minho’s throat to dislodge whatever petals were blocking his airways, but to no avail, the blockage being far too deep for him to reach. All he could do was wait and pray for the EMTs. Deep down, he knew though that it was far too late to save him, that Minho wouldn’t make it to the hospital, and certainly wouldn’t survive the surgery he needed to live.
Minho was dying, and Jisung couldn’t save him.
Jisung gathered Minho into his arms, holding the boy close as tears spilled down his cheeks without shame, Minho’s body limp and lifeless. Jisung thought he’d felt heartbreak before, but it never felt like this, it never felt so world-ending, like he was being held underwater to drown, but it was Minho’s weight that was keeping him from surfacing for air. It was pain, and terror, and loss, all rolled into a cacophony of overwhelming emotion that fell onto Jisung’s chest like an anvil.
“Don’t leave me,” he pleaded through his sobs, knowing it wouldn’t be worth anything, but still needing to do something, say something, rather than just sit there in deafening silence. “You promised you’d never leave me. Please, Minho, please stay with me.” Jisung sobbed harder, body shaking as his hand held Minho’s cheek, desperately wishing that Minho could somehow feel him there. “I love you, Minho. I love you so much. Don’t go. Please don’t go.”
Jisung didn’t mean to say the words, but he knew that he meant them the moment they left his lips. They felt right, like he’d always been meant to say them. He loved Minho, more than anything in the world, and he thought that maybe he always had, he just hadn’t let himself notice.
I wish it were enough to save you. I wish my love was what you needed. Don’t leave me alone.
And it was while those haunting thoughts slipped through his mind, that Jisung’s gaze landed on the dark splotches of blood splattered on the hardwood floor. It felt like his heart stopped in his chest, as the dark shade faded into something bright, something that he knew could only be the crimson color of red that he had only heard about, but never seen. And then it spread across his vision, colors bleeding into the world before him in bright hues and shades, painting everything before his eyes in a palette he never could’ve imagined in his wildest dreams.
Tears continued to fall from Jisung’s eyes as he gaped at the sight before him in shock and disbelief. It couldn’t be real, there was no way it was real, because if it was, then that meant…
Jisung reached out shakily, fingertips brushing the blood that stained Minho’s pretty lips, and his fingers came back red.
The sob that ripped from his throat felt inhuman, unnatural, as Jisung clutched Minho tighter in his arms, sobbing into the older’s shirt as he realized the horrifying truth.
He loved Minho.
Minho was his soulmate.
Jisung had rejected him and broken his heart.
Minho was dying because of him.
Every venomous statement, every horrid thing he’d ever said about his soulmate echoed in his mind, reminding him of just how he’d broken Minho’s heart, how many times he’d thrown rocks at Minho’s broken soul.
“I hate my soulmate.”
“This wouldn’t have happened if they just didn’t exist.”
“I don’t want anything to do with them.”
“I wish they’d just disappear.”
“I don’t want them.”
Every word had been a nail in Minho’s coffin, pushing him closer to his grave. Minho had been feeling lonely and alone, and had been suffering with this disease, all because Jisung had been cruel to him without ever realizing it. Jisung had turned his back on Minho before Minho even got the chance to tell him how he felt.
He couldn’t imagine what it’d been like, to have the one you love push you away and say such terrible things, tell you how they wished you never existed, and yet still pull you so close, begging for their attention and friendship. Jisung told Minho that he hated him and in the same breath begged him to stay with him forever. It was cruel, it was selfish, it was wrong, and Jisung realized he had caused Minho immense pain, and likely irreversible damage. He had seen the pain in Minho’s eyes, held him while he cried, watched him cough and choke on the love that was killing him, that he couldn’t give away, and it had been Jisung all along that was doing it to him.
“I’m so sorry,” he sobbed, feeling like his soul was being yanked from his body. “I’m so sorry Minho, I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean any of it, I love you. I love you so much, so so much. I’m so sorry.”
Jisung continued to cry until the ambulance came, apologies and affirmations of love spilling from his lips like a never ending tidal wave, all the while unnoticing that Minho’s breathing came just a little bit easier.
~*~
Jisung didn’t leave Minho’s side throughout the entire evening and subsequent night. He rode with him in the ambulance, sat with him in the ER as he coughed up the flower in his chest, and once he was settled in a room, Jisung sat next to him, playing with his fingers and waiting for him to eventually wake up.
Jisung called Chan and Felix, and even bit the bullet to contact Minji too, even though he hadn’t spoken to her since they broke up. Felix and Chan were furious at Minho, that he didn’t tell them what was happening, that he didn’t confess to Jisung and fix this whole thing. They were grateful that he was okay, giving Jisung a big hug, assuring him that everything would be okay, even though Jisung didn’t feel like it.
And Minji came too, awkwardly standing in the doorway of the pristine white hospital room, sad eyes watching Minho’s deep breathing and slightly pained expression. She gave Jisung a hug too, after learning what had happened, and expressed that she was grateful that he and Minho had each other.
“He’s an idiot,” she almost laughed after hearing everything Jisung told her.
“Did you know?” Jisung wasn’t sure how he felt about the idea that his ex girlfriend knew something about this before he even did.
She bit her lip, eyes flitting down in shame. “It’s not like he told me, I just figured it out on my own. I thought…”
“That’s why you ended things, isn’t it?” Jisung’s voice was just a whisper, hand still gripping Minho’s for dear life in the hospital bed.
“I did it for all of us. He loves you, and I knew that though you hadn’t figured it out yet, you loved him too, and I was keeping you apart. But I guess in the long run, I did more damage than good, huh?”
“You couldn’t have known I’d react the way I did. I’m the one that pushed him away, I caused this, not you, so don’t blame yourself,” Jisung reassured her. It was weird to talk to her again, after everything that happened between them and how much she hurt him, but sitting there at Minho’s hospital bedside, knowing what he did now, it didn’t hurt much anymore. He loved Minho, and he wouldn’t have come to realize that if he was still with Minji, he would’ve still been hurting Minho.
But then, if he hadn’t lost Minji, he wouldn’t have said the vile things he did that caused that morbid flower to bloom in Minho’s heart. Either way, Minho got hurt, all because of Jisung’s stupidity.
Minji placed a comforting hand on Jisung’s shoulder. “You two have each other now, and I’m really grateful for that. You’ll make each other happy.”
“You’ll find your soulmate too,” Jisung replied, for the first time genuinely meaning the sentiment. Minho was his everything now, and he finally understood what it meant to find and love your soulmate. He wanted her to experience it someday too.
After about six hours, the others eventually went home, promising to visit in the morning and leaving Jisung to curl up on the chair beside Minho, watching as his breath came in and out, the faint beep of his heart monitor reminding him that he had in fact survived. He had an oxygen tube around his face, helping supply with the much needed air that he had been deprived of while sick, and a clear nutrient IV in his arm, providing him with things like electrolytes and vitamins. Jisung was no stranger to hospital rooms and sick patients, the smell of disinfectant and the white walls being much like a second home, but it felt haunting to see Minho here, and even more so to know why.
The tubes and wires were scary, even though Jisung knew they were helping him heal. He knew Minho had coughed up the flower, that the bastard little thing had let go of his heart and that Minho would be just fine. Jisung had seen the flower, the uprooted plant, coated in Minho’s crimson blood, and Jisung hated that he knew exactly what it was - a quince, his birth flower. It was sick and twisted, it made Jisung’s stomach flip and heart squeeze painfully, but he had to remind himself that his guilt, fear, and pain was nothing in comparison to what he’d put Minho through.
Jisung placed a soft kiss to Minho’s knuckles, admiring how beautiful he was, even in a thin hospital gown and with dark circles under his eyes. Minho had been right about the colors, about how everything looked like a work of art, even in the white rooms of the hospital, and Minho especially looked so with his dusty brown hair, beautifully tanned skin, and the pink of his pretty lips.
He was pulled from his thoughts by a deep intake of breath, followed by a light squeeze of his fingers in Minho’s hand. Jisung immediately shot up, leaning over Minho and brushing his cheek gently with his fingertips. “Minho? Can you hear me?”
Minho groaned lightly before his eyes fluttered open, slowly focusing on the boy standing over him with concern written in his features.
Minho was silent as obvious confusion passed over his features and his free hand tentatively came up to press to his chest, searching for any sign of stitches or surgery that wasn’t to be found. His eyebrows furrowed as his mouth opened, a confused noise escaping before he finally spoke.
“How…?” His voice was more of a croak, throat dry and scratchy.
Minho’s chest felt light, lighter than he could ever remember it being, and he would’ve thought that somehow they’d managed to give him the surgery, if it weren’t for the obvious lack of any scar or stitches, and the fact that he could still see the vibrant colors, Jisung’s brown eyes above him and the light blue of his hospital gown.
Jisung sat beside him on the bed, still gripping Minho’s hand tightly, and the sensation made him cry, but somehow in an entirely different way than before.
“You’re okay now,” Jisung assured with a fond smile. “You coughed up the flower several hours ago. No surgery. It’s over now.”
Minho was afraid to speak, too many questions on the tip of his tongue, more than he’d had before Jisung spoke, so instead, his eyes wandered around the hospital room, void of much life other than the two of them, and a vase of colorful flowers on the table next to him.
Jisung noticed Minho’s gaze travel to the flowers, and he smiled, laughing a bit to himself. “I wasn’t sure if bringing you flowers was in bad taste or not,” he said, the smile making his eyes crinkle prettily, “but I figured even if they were, you’d probably laugh at me for it.”
Minho couldn’t help the giggle that escaped his lips, smiling, endeared by the blush on the younger’s cheeks and the embarrassed smile he donned. “You.. got me flowers… after I nearly died from choking on one…” His giggle had turned into a full laugh, tears brimming in his eyes as his stomach ached from it. Jisung burst into warm, full laughs, eventually tilting forward to hide his face in the older’s shoulder as the beautiful sound echoed through the room. It felt like all weight and severity had lifted away, and Minho hadn’t felt this free in so long, so he cherished it, cherished how easy his smile and laughs came, cherished the boy leaning into him as he tried to catch his breath, cherished the happy tears rolling down his cheeks.
“I know it’s stupid,” Jisung giggled again once he finally had a bit of control. “I don’t know, I just felt like I needed a way to convey everything I was feeling. I couldn’t find any with the mint color you said was your favorite, so I picked some that had other meanings. The white ones,” Jisung’s soft fingers brushed the pristine petals carefully, Minho watching him carefully, “are daffodils, and they represent new beginnings. The purple ones are called hyacinths, and they’re usually given to symbolize regret. And then these roses,” Jisung caressed the petals of the beautiful red blooms, “represent love.”
Jisung gazed at the older, hoping to convey his message to Minho through his careful selection of flowers, and Minho felt frozen, breath caught in his throat, but not in the way it had been for the past few months.
“You can see colors…” Minho wasn’t sure why that was what his mind chose to say first, but considering everything, you couldn’t exactly blame him for not having a full grasp on reality yet.
Jisung smiled fondly, squeezing Minho’s hand again. “I can, thanks to you.”
Minho thought he had to have actually died and gone to heaven, because he was certain he couldn’t possibly be hearing this, he couldn’t be feeling Jisung’s hand in his, he couldn’t be the intended target of that love-filled, fond smile. It couldn’t be real.
Jisung took a deep breath to steel his nerves before speaking once again. “I came home to find you on the floor, barely breathing, barely even alive.” Jisung’s voice was so quiet, shaking ever so slightly as he recalled the events from earlier in the day. Minho squeezed his hand to provide any comfort he could. “I realized that I was really going to lose you, that you weren’t even going to make it to the hospital, and I was terrified, it hurt more than anything I’d ever experienced, it felt like my world was ending.” Jisung took another shaky breath. “It took you dying in my arms for me to realize how stupid I was, how much I love you…”
Minho’s tears returned as he watched Jisung’s begin to slip down his cheeks.
“And once I realized, the colors came, and then it hit me, all the truths that’d been in front of me the whole time that I’d refused to see. The petals, your blood and all your suffering and heartbreak, it had all been because of me. I said such horrible things to you, made you feel so alone and unwanted, and I was sending you to your grave…”
Jisung took another shuddering breath, but when he opened his mouth to continue speaking, all that came out was a broken sob, causing Minho to immediately pull the younger’s hand to get him into his arms, Jisung curling into Minho’s embrace on the small hospital bed, fists in his thin gown and sobs shaking his small body. Minho felt a sense of deja vu settle over him, but this time, the heartbreak wasn’t over an ex, it was over him.
“I’m sorry, Jisungie.”
Jisung looked up with his tear filled eyes. “Why are you apologizing?” he sniffled.
Why was he apologizing? Minho wasn’t sure exactly, he just knew he felt bad that Jisung was so hurt at his expense, even if it was a bit out of his control. “I made you cry…”
Jisung shook his head with a frown. “I should be the one apologizing. I said horrible things, I said I hated you and wished you didn’t exist, I made you watch me date someone else and then pushed you away, and broke your heart over and over again. These tears are nothing compared to what I put you through, and I’m so, so sorry, Min. You nearly died because of me, and nothing I do could ever make up for that. But if you can still find it in your heart to love me, then I swear to you, I will spend every moment of the rest of our lives making you feel nothing but loved and wanted. I will make sure you never face that pain again. I will make sure you know how much I love you and need you in my life, I promise.”
Minho smiled fondly, fingers brushing away the tears on Jisung’s round cheeks as he rest on the pillow in front of him. “I already do.”
Jisung didn’t hesitate after hearing the words to rush forward, fingers still curled in the fabric of Minho’s hospital gown and pulling him close as he pressed their lips together. Minho exhaled slightly in surprise before he felt his stomach erupt with butterflies, eyes flitting closed as he kissed the younger back, hand cupping Jisung’s face and pulling him even closer. He felt so perfect, tasted so perfect, and Minho had never been more happy in his life, feeling the overwhelming care and love emanating from the boy in his arms. Jisung was everything.
“I love you,” Jisung whispered when they finally parted, out of breath but smiling blindingly.
“And I love you,” Minho smiled back, feeling his chest blossom with something that finally wasn’t a flower of pain, but a feeling of immense glee and requited love.
He loved this boy with his entire being, and Jisung loved him back. They had a lot to work through, a lot to heal from, but they had each other, so they would be okay.