Chapter Text
Hyunjin’s mom always told him that he’d know his soulmate when they met—even if he couldn’t see their matching marks. The way she explained it made it seem like some magical connection, like he’d be irrevocably changed when he locked eyes with the person who bore the same design on their wrist as he did.
Even as a kid, Hyunjin isn’t sure that’s true. The closest he ever comes to feeling like that is when he meets an awkward boy who can barely string a sentence together in Korean. Lee Felix is gangly and small and hasn’t grown into his confidence, but his eyes shine when he cobbles together enough of Hyunjin’s language to ask about his dance experience. As they struggle to stitch a conversation, Hyunjin can’t take his eyes off the freckles scattered across Felix’s bronzed cheeks. His smile lights the whole studio.
And his voice…
Hyunjin’s never heard anything like it.
While Felix rambles on about dance and how he likes Korea so far and how it’s different from his home in Australia, Hyunjin finally manages to tear his eyes away from the pretty, cherubic face. His gaze slides down Felix’s right arm to his wrist, covered by a thick, leather band. Just like his.
He wonders what Felix has under there. If his mark is all black like Hyunjin’s own or if color infuses its intricate pattern. Is it in the shape of an animal? Or a heart? Is it nonsense, like most of them?
Hyunjin doesn’t need to remove his cuff to know his mark. He’s traced those lines incessantly. His mom said they look like wings, but he isn’t so sure about that. To him, it just looks like an inkblot mess.
Felix notices him staring and fiddles with the wristband that covers his soulmark. He starts talking about something else in English, but Hyunjin can’t understand.
The language barrier doesn’t deter either of them. They become fast friends and get along well with the other contestants on the show. When Felix is eliminated, Hyunjin’s chest burns so bad, he thinks he needs to go to the hospital. But when Felix is allowed a second chance… It’s the best day of his life.
On the day the company officially signs them as Stray Kids, a manager herds them into a closed room, sits them around a long, ovular conference table, and shoves a thick stack of papers in front of each of them.
“These are the rules of conduct,” the manager says, pacing the length of the table. “We’ll go over all of them no matter how long it takes.”
Which is exactly what they do. Hyunjin gets bored fast, but Felix smiling and making faces at him from across the table helps. He wishes Felix could sit next to him, but he needs to be near Chan so their oldest member can help translate.
“Flip over to the next page,” the manager commands after nearly two hours of discussing the behavior contracts. “This is where you’ll find all the information on your marks.” He pauses while papers shuffle.
Hyunjin struggles to turn to the right page, and the edge of the paper slices across the pad of his finger. He flinches. A bead of red bubbles at the bottom of the cut.
“Ah!”
Hyunjin looks up, startled by the exclamation. Across the table, Felix sticks his index finger into his mouth. “You okay?” Hyunjin asks.
Felix withdraws the digit, checking the saliva-slicked finger for any signs of damage, but there’s no blood. “Yeah, I just thought… It’s nothing.”
“If it’s nothing,” the manager says, “let’s continue.”
Hyunjin drops his hand into his lap and curls his fingers into a fist, letting the paper cut bleed into his palm. That was… weird. But he’s afraid if he complains, he’ll lose this shot. There are already so many rules, and he doesn’t want to risk accidentally breaking one.
“On this page you’ll find all the regulations regarding your soulmarks,” the manager continues. “There are a lot of details here, but the main thing to note is not to show yours to anyone. Under any circumstances.”
Changbin cautiously raises his hand. “What about each other?”
“No. One.” The manager slams his palms on the table. “Not even each other. Do you understand?”
Hyunjin mumbles his agreement along with the other members. When he risks a glance across the table, Felix still stares at his finger, massaging it. It seems paper cuts are going around, even if Hyunjin’s is the only one that bleeds.
* * *
It turns out those rules about keeping soulmarks secret actually have a purpose. The guys all talk shit about them in the dorms, but before Stray Kids officially debuts, an idol from another company has their soulmark photographed and posted online. Hundreds of fans suddenly come out of the woodwork, claiming to sport matching marks. Some of them even have their own marks tattooed to look identical to his. That incident scares them all into shutting up and complying.
It’s not really an issue because they get so busy. Hyunjin doesn’t have time to think about what he’d do if he found a match because he’s simply not allowed to think about it. There’s no showing marks for them. Period.
Sure, sometimes, he stays up late and peruses soul mark message boards on his phone when the other members are long asleep. Just looking. In case he sees anything that looks like a pair of wings. He finds a few close calls, but the details never add up. There are always differences.
A month before debut, Jisung has the not-so-brilliant idea to get them all fake IDs from “A guy I know, don’t worry, he’s cool, I promise,” and once he gets Seungmin and Changbin and even Minho on board, even Chan agrees to the insane plan.
“We might as well,” Chan says with a shrug when they’re all stuffed into one of the bedrooms in the dorm and Jisung passes out the false cards. “This could be the last time we’re able to go clubbing without being recognized.”
Hyunjin runs his thumb over the picture of himself and wonders how this could possibly work. No way in hell he looks 22, like the card claims.
Someone nudges his ribs, and Hyunjin puts the ID down so he can give all his attention to Felix, who scoots across the floor to lock into his side. “This should be fun, yeah?” Felix asks. “I’ve never been to a club before.”
A frisson rushes down Hyunjin’s back and he wraps an arm around Felix’s fragile shoulders. “Yeah, it will be fun.” What he doesn’t say is that he intends to make sure Felix has a good time and to not let him out of his sight. If anything were to happen to Yongbok, he’d never forgive himself.
Changbin storms across the room and grabs Jisung by the front of his hoodie. “Why does mine say I’m 40?”
Everyone bursts into a round of giggles that Chan tries in vain to quiet. They have to play it cool until they can sneak out so they don’t tip off the managers.
A few hours later, they’re all dressed in black hoodies and masks—which Hyunjin thinks makes them look more conspicuous—and slinking down the night-covered streets of Hongdae. Changbin still grumbles about his ID but Jisung is too engrossed in a conversation with Minho to bother with him.
They reach a club marked with flashing neon and a brightly lit sign in English and filter in through the narrow entrance until they reach the counter where they have to show their IDs. Hyunjin can’t even hear the bouncer’s commands over the heavy bass from the music. He just hands over his ID and hopes for the best. He’s surprised how easy it is. How they face no questions and instead are ushered in to explore the strobe-lit dance floor.
“I’m going to the bar!” Jisung yells above the music. He grabs Minho’s arm and drags him towards the bar lined with mirrors and multi-colored lights. Hyunjin follows because Felix does and soon he’s two drinks deep and more buzzed than he’s ever been.
He’s watching Changbin and Chan go crazy on the dance floor, laughing at their drunk antics, when someone tugs his arm.
“Jinnie, come dance with me.”
Hyunjin whips around to find Felix’s arm linked with his. He looks back to the dance floor, away from his ridiculous band mates to the couples beyond. Watches the barely-clothed bodies rolling against each other. Heat consumes him under his hoodie as he imagines doing that with Felix.
Unfortunately, he’s got no excuse. It’s not like he can say he’s a bad dancer. So he knocks back the rest of his drink for courage. “Sure.”
Felix smiles again and unzips his hoodie, shedding the garment and draping it across the barstool next to Hyunjin. The sight of what he has on underneath steals Hyunjin’s breath. A crop top and shimmering chains around his neck. Hyunjin blinks, focuses under the flashing lights, and notices for the first time the glitter at the corners of Felix’s eyes and the gloss on his lips. He came prepared.
“I-I think I’m underdressed,” Hyunjin tries to joke because his gaze is stuck on Felix’s navel.
Felix just grabs his arm and drags him away from the bar. “You look great,” he says, standing on his tiptoes so his lips graze Hyunjin’s ear.
They dance.
Oh, they dance.
But it’s not like any dancing Hyunjin is used to—the type that takes power and concentration and teamwork. This is relaxed and fluid and for some reason it makes Hyunjin even more nervous than the prospect of stepping on stage in front of thousands of fans. There’s a rhythm but no choreography he’s supposed to execute. All he does is keep moving, keep his hands on Felix’s bare waist. He shuts his eyes because if he looks at Felix for too long, he won’t last the night. Just the feeling of Felix’s arms around his neck, of those tiny fingers playing with his hair nearly sends him into a state of shock.
The song changes from an aggressive beat to a sensual one, and the way Felix moves changes too. All Hyunjin can do is hold on for the ride as Felix undulates against him. Felix is so bold. Hyunjin’s always admired that about him and wished he had the same trait. If he did, maybe he’d have the stones to wrap his hands even tighter around that tiny waist and pull Felix closer until—
Something solid slams into Hyunjin’s back. It knocks the air from his lungs and shoves him flush against Felix’s frame, warm and slightly sweaty from their activity. Anger flashes through Hyunjin, and he spins around to find a gleeful Jisung smiling sheepishly while Changbin laughs next to him.
“Sorry!” Jisung calls above the music but quickly gets lost in the crowd.
Felix keeps an arm around Hyunjin’s neck and directs his attention back. “It’s okay, hyung. I could use another drink, anyway.”
Felix hardly ever calls him that. They’re too close in age. But Hyunjin likes how it rolls off his tongue.
“You sure?” Hyunjin asks. He has to get right in Felix’s ear because the club is so loud. So it’s not weird that he can almost taste the sweat beading on Felix’s neck. “You already had—”
“I’ll be fine,” Felix insists. “You should have one with me.”
And, well, Hyunjin can’t say no to that, so he lets Felix lead him to the bar where they order more of whatever the first drink is that comes to mind because they have to sound older, experienced. Like they know what they want.
They click their plastic cups together and shout geonbae and Hyunjin drains half his drink before setting it on the bar. Felix slams his back so there’s only ice left.
At some point, Seungmin and Chan and basically everyone else comes back to the bar to order more drinks and Hyunjin gets so caught up in laughing about pointless shit with all of them, he loses track of one member.
“Where’s Yongbok?” he asks Minho once he notices Felix is gone.
Minho just shrugs. “Not sure.”
Hyunjin leaves the group and searches the club, checking every booth and table, every greasy corner. He even trudges through the dance floor, getting elbowed in the sides and kicked in the shins by countless drunk clubgoers. No sign of Felix.
As he hunts, his eyes instinctively go to every strangers’ wrist. It’s stupid. Why would he be looking for a match in a place like this? On a night where he’s far too drunk to meet someone he’ll have to spend the rest of his life with. But he finds it interesting that just as many of these people have their marks showing as covered.
Something stirs in him, deep in his chest. Then bursts, spilling shards of ice into his veins. He stops in the middle of the dance floor, a hard shudder racing through him and leaving a wake of cold.
What was that? He’s never felt anything like that before. And for no reason…
It fades with the beat of the music and a few seconds later, he shrugs it off and continues his quest.
Hyunjin pushes through a blacked-out swinging door and stumbles into a much quieter hallway with a checkered floor and eerie ultraviolet lights humming from the ceiling. A random guy lies passed out in the corner, half propped up against the wall. There’s a girl applying lipstick in a dirty mirror across from a pair of doors that must lead to bathrooms.
He’s about to check them when one swings open and Felix tumbles through, scowl focused on his wrist where he desperately tries to rebuckle his cuff. He runs into Hyunjin, but Hyunjin catches him by the shoulders. “Yongbokkie, I was looking—”
Felix falls into Hyunjin’s arms like a meteor striking virgin earth. He buries his face in Hyunjin’s shoulder and holds tight, and Hyunjin knows the answer to his own question.
Another anger simmers deep in his belly. A different kind than the flash he felt when Jisung ran into him on the dance floor. This is low and dark and vibrates in his bones like infrasound.
Something flickers in his peripheral. He turns his head slightly and realizes it’s the still open strap of Felix’s cuff. He has to pull away to secure it so it doesn’t slip off, because whatever Felix is going through will be a hundred times worse if his mark gets exposed.
Felix sniffs, sparkles in his eyes. “Thank you.”
“What happened?” Hyunjin asks again.
“Can we just—?” Felix swallows and maneuvers his wrist out of Hyunjin’s grasp, instead lacing their fingers together. “Can we just go home?”
“Sure.” Hyunjin squeezes Felix’s hand and warmth floods in to replace the ice that overpowered him. If Felix doesn’t want to talk about what happened, Hyunjin can’t force him. “I’ll take you.”
* * *
“It’s stupid that we have to keep our marks covered,” Changbin complains one day in the studio when they take a break from practicing their latest choreo. “I hate this bracelet. What if I get a rash?”
Hyunjin flops onto the floor near the mirrors and reaches for his half-drunk water, draining the rest of it. He ignores Changbin’s whining and lets the other members deal with it. It’s been a couple weeks since the incident at the club and Felix still hasn’t told him what upset him that night. Hyunjin has opted to try to forget it, hoping whatever it was just happened to be a result of Felix’s drunken state that night.
Jisung giggles. “You would with your luck.”
“The rules are there to protect us,” Chan says and takes a swig of water from a sweating bottle. “We just have to deal with them.”
Changbin checks out his pecs in the mirror. “But, like, it’s kind of pointless because what if we never meet our soulmates because we have our marks covered forever? How will we even know if we meet the person whose mark matches ours?”
“We’ll know,” Hyunjin speaks up. “We’ll know if we see a mark that matches ours, but the other person won’t.”
“Yeah, you idiot,” Jisung teases. “Duh.”
Suengmin and Jeongin laugh while Jisung continues bothering Changbin until his face gets even redder than it had during the hardest part of practice.
A shadow falls over Hyunjin. “What would you do if that happened?”
Hyunjin looks up to find Felix standing over him, blocking him from the harsh overhead lighting. “If I met someone whose mark matched mine?”
“Yeah.” Felix sits down, bony knee brushing Hyunjin’s. Sweat drenches parts of the tee shirt that hangs loose over his thin torso and Hyunjin can’t help but stare. “Would you say anything?”
“Sure.” Hyunjin’s never actually thought about another option. Of course if he found his soulmate, he’d show them his mark. At least, that’s what he thought before all the rules. Before Stray Kids. “Wouldn’t you?”
“I dunno.” Felix leans back on his hands. “Don’t you think it’s unfair that our partners are decided by birthmarks?”
Actually, no. “I never thought about it like that.” As Felix twists off the cap of a water bottle, Hyuniin watches Jisung and Minho whisper to each other in the opposite corner of the dance studio. They’re so close, he wonders if they’ve seen each other’s marks. Do they match? “But what’s the point of being with someone who doesn’t match you?”
Felix takes a long drink and licks water droplets off his pouty lips. “What’s the point of being stuck with someone just because you have matching marks?”
“Because it’s bound to work out,” Hyunjin says, touching Felix’s knee that’s still connected to his. “Right?”
Felix stares at the floor and shrugs. “I’d rather make my own decision.”
* * *
After that, Hyunjin is sure Felix will eventually explain what happened at the club, but Felix seems to forget the incident with their hangover. And the longer their debut stretches behind them, the more pressing things they have to worry about.
Now it’s more important than ever that they keep their marks covered. Even within the first months after Stray Kids’ debut, Hyunjin finds pictures of marks on fansites, OPs claiming they belong to the members. Hyunjin knows none of them are true. The members are all so careful. Even around each other.
Being an idol is hard. Hyunjin knew it would be. But he finds that having Felix around makes things a lot easier. As Felix’s Korean improves, they get closer than ever, clinging to their friendship in order to deal with the stress of their new careers.
Sometimes the other members tease Hyunjin because even though he constantly says he doesn’t like skinship, he can’t seem to stop touching Felix. Hyunjin doesn’t mind the teasing. Mainly because there are worse things the guys could nag him about. They don’t know, for example, how hot he gets under his clothes when Felix clings to him, resting his chin on Hyunjin’s shoulder when they sit close together in the dorm or on the floor of the practice studio. They don’t know Felix’s face—those gorgeous eyes and cute freckles—fill the pages of Hyunjin’s sketchbooks. Or that every chance Hyunjin gets, he gifts random drawings of flowers and landscapes to the object of his affection. They don’t know he’ll do just about anything to see his Yongbokkie smile.
Hyunjin has no idea how dangerous his feelings are until the realization crushes him.
He’s in his room, sketching from one of the landscape photos he took at their last shoot, when a sharp pain rips through his palm. He gasps. Drops his pencil.
Turns his palm over and finds a red slash through it, like a burn.
When he touches it, more fire crackles through his nerves. He picks up his pencil in his uninjured hand and scans it for anything that might have caused the wound, but he finds nothing out of place.
The injury throbs. Hyunjin clenches his teeth around a grunt. He tosses the sketchbook onto his bed and pushes to his feet, clenching his fist to try to stymie the pain. He ignores the other guys in their own rooms as he passes the open doors and bursts into the bathroom desperate for the relief of dousing his hand under cold water.
He reaches for the faucet but his hand stops when he catches sight of deep crimson drops on the counter. Shards of silver. A pale hand laced with red and a washcloth pressed into a soft palm.
“Oh,” he breathes when he locks eyes with Felix.
Felix’s freckles stand out against his paled skin and light sweat shimmers on his upper lip. “I b-broke the makeup mirror.”
Hyunjin glances at the floor to where the mirror lies, busted amongst the broken glass.
“When I tried to clean it up, I cut myself,” Felix explains.
Without any thought for his own injury, Hyunjin gently casts aside the soiled washcloth, takes Felix’s wrist, and guides his hand under the faucet. He twists the handle and Felix flinches when cool water pours over the wound. “You have to be careful.”
“I know.” Felix relaxes, getting used to the sensation as the water washes the blood down the drain. “It was an accident.”
Hyunjin gently washes the cut, massaging Felix’s hand with soap so the wound won’t get infected. When he’s satisfied that it’s clean enough, he shuts off the water and dries it with a clean washcloth. “Hold this here.” He curls Felix’s delicate fingers closed around the cloth then goes for the medicine cabinet in search of antibiotic ointment and bandages. His own palm throbs, but it’s not so bad anymore. Besides, he wasn’t bleeding. Felix is much worse off than he is.
“Thank you,” Felix says as Hyunjin applies the ointment and wraps his palm in a soft bandage. The quiet words barely reach Hyunjin’s ears, even in the otherwise silent, small space. Weighty and significant, as though Hyunjin has done more than basic first aid.
He can feel Felix’s pulse under his thumb as he works. He ties off the bandage so it won’t come undone. When his thumb moves away from the pulse point, a swath of dark ink catches his eye.
No.
Not ink.
Underneath a smear of water, Hyunjin spots Felix’s uncovered soulmark. The design is so familiar, Hyunjin doesn’t register what he’s seeing for a few long seconds.
A pair of wings.
Recognition punches him in the gut, and a gasp escapes his gaping mouth.
Realizing where Hyunjin’s eyes are pinned, Felix pulls his hand away and clasps the other over his wrist. “You won’t tell anyone, right?”
Hyunjin blinks, stare stuck on the counter still speckled with blood. He finally lifts his gaze to Felix’s pleading eyes, and a warmth rushes over him like a tropical wave on golden sand.
They match.
That’s why whenever one of them is in pain, so is the other. That’s why even he can’t get enough of his precious Yongbok, why he can’t keep his hands off even when he doesn’t like touching anyone else. It’s why he tries to draw other things, but he always inevitably ends up sketching those same stunning features.
And yet…
Felix doesn’t want this. He said it himself a year ago. I’d rather make my own decision.
Hyunjin clears his throat and grabs some toilet paper so he can wipe up the blood on the counter. “I didn’t see anything.” He adds a shrug as he cleans to make it seem like he doesn’t care, but his hand shakes as he mops up the spent drops of Felix’s life.
A small hand grabs his arm. “Hyung.”
Hyunjin looks up and they’re close now. So close. It shouldn’t matter because they’re this close all the time, but the thin air between them snaps with a charge Hyunjin can’t name.
Felix is so stunning, even under the harsh fluorescent lights of the bathroom. Even with his bleached hair messy and unstyled, even with his chest moving fast as he breathes fast. He swallows, and Hyunjin follows the languid movement of his Adam’s apple.
He can’t resist. He drops the soiled paper and picks up his trembling hand, moving it slowly towards Felix until he holds the soft, unspoiled cheek in his gentle grasp. Felix’s hand never lets up on its grasp of Hyunjin’s wrist. As Hyunjin cups Felix’s face, Felix’s own fingers travels slowly until his own palm splays over the back of Hyunjin’s hand. Pressing it to his own face as though the touch is a comfort.
Heat flares under Hyunjin’s shirt, crawling up his neck like slow-consuming embers. He brushes his thumb over Felix’s freckles, pink staining the flesh beneath them. “I won’t tell anyone, Felix. You have my word.”
He means it. He won’t tell a soul that he’s seen Felix’s mark. That it matches his.
He won’t even tell Felix.
A smile pulls at the corner of Felix’s lips, and his eyes dip, lashes fluttering like the wings stamped on his wrist. His chin tilts up, like he’s reaching for Hyunjin, trying to overcome the height difference. Hyunjin wants to capture those lips in his own, to taste them. To push his tongue against them until Felix lets him in.
Instead, he drops his hand away and grabs the blood-stained toilet paper and keeps cleaning up Felix’s mess. “You should get the broom so we can sweep up the glass.”
Quiet hangs heavy around them as Hyunjin continues cleaning up the red smears on the counter. Until Felix says, “Okay,” and leaves the room.
* * *
Keeping his mouth shut is torture. Hyunjin knew he liked Felix before he saw the mark, but after… After is like life dragged him out of the frying pan and dumped him into the fire, not giving a shit about how fast he’ll burn to a crisp.
It might be easier if he could get some space from Felix, but that’s impossible with all the members together all the time. And even if space were an option, Hyunjin probably wouldn’t take it. He’s drawn to Felix like a magnet, and the two of them spend the next year glued to each other, especially since they’re stuck in the dorm so much when Covid hits.
No one wants the pandemic, but those long days locked away in the dorm are a dream to Hyunjin. He and Felix can hang out as much as they want. Usually Felix reads or plays video games while Hyunjin sketches. Sometimes they watch movies together. Sometimes Hyunjin helps Felix with his Korean or just listens to him talk about Australia.
They get back to work soon, though, and by the fall when Back Door comes out, they’re racing from music show to interviews on packed schedules tight enough to strangle them. Still, it’s nice to be back at work. Felix seems happy, and that makes Hyunjin’s heart light.
After a banger performance at Inkigayo, Felix finds Hyunjin backstage and thrusts a phone into his hands. “Will you take a picture of me?”
Hyunjin stares at the device in his palm. Looks up at Felix who has draped himself seductively over a row of hideous and uncomfortable blue seats in the green room. At least, Hyunjin interprets it as seductive. Really Felix is just sitting there, but everything he does stuns Hyunjin into delirium. It’s gotten so much worse since he saw Felix’s mark.
“I like my makeup,” Felix explains, seemingly prompted by Hyunjin’s silence. He grins and the gems under his eyes sparkle.
“Sure.” Of course Hyunjin says yes, because any excuse to stare is one he’ll use.
He snaps the photos, unable to help himself from gaping as Felix changes poses in front of the lens. When Hyunjin pauses to inspect his work, he’s stunned. He mutters the first word that flutters and settles on the tip of his tongue like a fledgling testing its wings “Angel.”
“Huh?” Felix blinks those big, gorgeous eyes at him.
Hyunjin hands the phone over and in the best English he can muster says, “You’re an angel.” He tries not to notice the pink flush that coats Felix’s cheeks like a sunset under the constellations of his freckles.
Hyunjin tries to play it off as a joke, and Felix chuckles at his antics, at the nickname, but when the managers come in to round them up to leave, Hyunjin spots Felix swiping through the photos, smiling fondly.
A few days later, they’re all sitting around their messy dorm, scarfing down the noodles Minho made for them. Hyunjin’s on the sofa and Felix is cross-legged on the floor between his legs.
“This is so good,” Changbin announces and stuffs more noodles into his mouth.
“Right,” Seungmin agrees. “Guess we’re lucky Minho made this for us instead of saving it all for Jisung.” A round of ooohs and kissing sounds follow the accusation and Hyunjin can’t help but laugh. Especially when Minho’s cheeks burn red and he stares into his bowl.
“Whatever.” Jisung rolls his eyes. “I’m not the one who’s actually dating someone. Yongbok is the one with the boyfriend.”
Another round of joyful jabs floats through the room, but they sound tinny and far away. Hyunjin looks down at Felix, nudging him with his foot. “You’re dating someone?”
Felix tilts his head back so it lies on the cushion in the space between Hyunjin’s knees. “Kind of? It’s a new thing. I dunno.” He smiles, big and bright like always, but it fades quickly. He sits up and goes back to eating, ignoring the jokes from the rest of the guys.
Hyunjin swings a leg over Felix and stands up, dropping his half-full bowl of noodles in the sink on the way to his room. By the time he shuts himself inside, he’s sweating. How could Felix do that? How did he even have time to meet someone?
Didn’t he know they were—?
Hyunjin leans against the door, bashing the back of his head into it a few times for good measure. Of course Felix doesn’t know that Fate laced them together. Hyunjin never told him.
He drags his hands through his hair—the hair he’s growing out because the company demands it but also because Felix likes it. Plays with it every chance he gets. How could Hyunjin be so stupid not to realize that all those times he felt Felix’s dainty fingers in his hair, all those times they sat a little too close, all those times he hugged Felix from behind… that whole time Felix was thinking about seeing someone else?
“Fuck,” he growls. A new kind of pain throbs in his chest. Not the pain he’s grown used to through their connection, the pain he’s learned to welcome because Hyunjin knows when he feels it, he needs to go to his Felix and fix whatever is wrong. No, this is different. This is the pain of being utterly alone.
That’s how Felix wants it. That’s what he said—that he wanted to make his own decisions, regardless of the soulmarks. So this is what Hyunjin will have to accept.
Rage spikes in his blood and he lunges for his desk, rips a drawer open and rifles through the messy contents until he finds an exacto blade he uses for cutting paper. He holds the knife up to his face and taps the tip with his thumb. Blood beads on his fingerprint.
Perfect.
He sets the knife down only long enough to rip off the leather cuff that covers his mark. When he picks it up again, he holds it to his wrist, on the edge of the obsidian design. To the wings that used to fascinate him but now taunt him because his match doesn’t want him at all.
If he cuts the mark out, will Felix feel it?
He presses the blade into his flesh. The sting ripples up his arm.
Someone pounds on the door and Hyunjin almost drops the knife. He tosses it onto the desk and swipes his cuff, struggling to buckle it around his wrist. “Yeah.”
The door opens and Chan steps into the room. Great. Hyunjin doesn’t need a pep talk right now.
“Hey,” Chan says, swiping a hand through his hair, something he always does when he’s nervous or about to broach a topic he knows the other person doesn’t want to discuss.
Hyunjin pivots so Chan won’t see the blade lying on the desk. “What’s up?” He finishes clasping the cuff around his wrist.
“You okay?” Chan shuts the door so no one will hear and now Hyunjin knows this is going to be a chat he doesn’t want to have. “You seemed upset out there.”
“I’m fine. Just not feeling well.” Hyunjin turns around and starts stacking papers littering the desk so it looks like he’s busy. Maybe Chan will take the hint.
Chan sighs. “I know you and Felix are close. I’m not surprised you reacted how you did when he dropped that bomb.”
Hyunjin freezes, fists clenched around handfuls of paper filled with throwaway sketches. Tears prick the corners of his eyes. The words lodge in his throat. He longs to open his mouth and let them spill almost as much as he longs for Felix.
But he can’t do that. He promised.
He inhales, slow and tremulous, and sets the papers down. Blinks until the tears are under control. Faces Chan. “I didn’t react to anything. I told you. I’m not feeling well.”
Chan stares at him—that stare that says he knows a lot more than Hyunjin is telling him but Hyunjin holds his wall. And Chan, like the good friend he is, backs down, because he knows Hyunjin isn’t ready to talk. “Okay. Well,” he wrings his hands, the muscles in his biceps popping, “If you ever do feel anything about it and want to talk, you know where to find me.”
Chan leaves without another word and Hyunjin flings the exacto blade back into the drawer. Even if he tries to cut out the mark, it won’t change anything. He’s cursed to love Lee Felix for the rest of his life, even if that means having to watch Felix love someone else.