Chapter Text
The stage lights shone bright. Confetti rained down. The sound of cheering filled his ears and turned everything into an exhilarating blur. Elation bubbled up in his chest and escaped in a relieved laugh. They had done it. Their fourth win. The noise around him became an unintelligible buzz and he barely registered the jostling of his teammates in a messy group hug before the lifting of the trophy.
Out of mostly habit, Jihoon sought out the window to his soulmate’s heart. His soulmate rarely had emotions uncontrolled enough to overflow the boundaries of their own mind and seep into Jihoon’s consciousness, so he had developed a habit of looking through their bond to check himself. Just to make sure they were still there. That they were still okay. How would they be feeling right now?
Cold rushed over Jihoon’s skin. The noise in his ears dimmed into a deafening static. A quiet numbness. Disappointment. Pain. Self-loathing. Guilt. The overwhelming feeling that he should’ve done more. Should’ve done better. That he let everyone down.
“Jihoon?”
A hand touched his shoulder. Jihoon looked up at Siwoo through blurred eyes. It felt like shards of glass were making their way through his stomach. It was a quiet agony. A small murmur. Unending. Ever present. Like walking with nails in your shoes.
“Jihoon!” Siwoo’s voice was louder this time. The hand on his shoulder more insistent, “Can you hear me? Are you okay? We need to get off stage.”
He gasped for air. Was it always this hard to breathe? The stage lights were suddenly blinding. The noise around him was nauseating. It was too warm. Too stuffy. He needed to get out. He could vaguely hear Siwoo instructing someone to shield him from prying eyes. Hands pushed at him insistently and he had no choice but to stumble along in the direction he was shoved.
“Is he okay?”
A new voice cut through the fog. The voice sounded clear. Clean. Like fresh air. Jihoon inhaled. Air flowed into his lungs.
“Yeah, he’s just feeling a bit-”
“I’m okay,” Jihoon spoke up, cutting Siwoo off. He straightened up to see Sanghyeok gazing at him with measured concern. The rest of his team had already disappeared down the hallway but Sanghyeok must’ve stopped when he noticed Jihoon. Jihoon couldn’t help but smile slightly, “I’m just overheated from the stage lights. Thank you for your concern Sanghyeok hyung.”
Sanghyeok nodded, “I’m glad you’re okay. Congrats on the win today. You all played well.”
There was a chorus of polite ‘thank you’s from his team before Sanghyeok disappeared down the hallway to follow his teammates.
“What was that about Jihoon?” Siwoo asked, worried, “You looked like you were in pain. Should we get you to the break room? You can lay down. Was it really the heat? Are you having heatstroke?”
Jihoon shook his head, “It wasn’t me. It was…”
“Oh.” A look of understanding passed through Siwoo’s face and he dropped the topic with a sympathetic look on his face. Jihoon couldn’t help but sigh and lag behind his team as they moved on to talk about what they should eat for dinner.
He had always had issues with his soulmate. Whoever it was, they weren’t a very expressive person. Well, they weren’t anymore. They used to be back when Jihoon was younger. When he was younger he felt emotions flow seamlessly through their bond just like the books described. He felt the comfort of another presence even when he was alone.
The younger version of him had taken that for granted. As time passed, feelings no longer flowed through their bond into Jihoon’s mind. He could barely remember how it felt. He spent so many years busy with his career that he hadn’t thought to pay the bond much attention. Soulmates had seemed like such a trivial thing to him at that time. By the time he broke out of his single minded desire to succeed it was as if the doorway connecting him to his soulmate had disappeared all together. Nothing was left but that small window. The window that let Jihoon know his soulmate was still there. Closed off, but alive. Something had happened during that time. Something that had changed him.
He wondered sometimes, if he had been more present, would that doorway still be closed? His parents assured him it wasn’t the case. After all, there was little soulmates could do for each other besides sending a comforting thought. Thoughts could only distract from reality for so long. Still, Jihoon spent probably too many sleepless nights wondering what happened. Was it something traumatic that caused his soulmate to close themself off? An injury that impaired brain function? What happened just now to cause them so much pain?
Jihoon felt helpless. He couldn’t do anything. His own soulmate had closed their mind off from them. Either that or they were irreparably injured. Maybe they could feel Jihoon peer through the window into their heart and resented him for it. But he couldn’t stop. The day he realized he no longer felt their bond had been the worst day of his life. He thought they were dead. Gone. Lost to him forever before he even had a chance to meet them. He couldn’t go back to that. He wouldn’t. Even if his soulmate hated him for intruding into their mind. He needed to know they were still there. That they were still alive and breathing.
A sudden feeling of calm washed over him. A feeling of peacefulness so intense Jihoon had to fight the urge to cry in relief. Was this feeling...from his soulmate? Was his soulmate comforting him? Jihoon laughed aloud at the absurdity of it all. His soulmate was comforting him . Jihoon couldn’t help but feel guilty. His soulmate was struggling, and Jihoon had only added to it by sending his own anxiety to accompany the pain. Why hadn’t he been the one to send comfort? Why hadn’t that been his first instinct? Why had he selfishly wallowed in self pity instead of providing the emotional support his soulmate needed? Maybe that was why his soulmate closed themself off in the first place.
“Stop thinking. Eat.”
Jihoon stared dumbly down at his plate, which someone had already filled up for him. When did they even get to a restaurant? He must’ve been zoned out for longer than he thought.
“Is it the one on the other side again?” Siwoo guessed, “Why don’t you just tune it out?”
“I can’t.” Jihoon mumbled, taking a bite of his food. It tasted like straw.
“Why not? Everyone does it automatically when they need to concentrate on something. Just channel that feeling and boom, peace and quiet.”
Jihoon ground his teeth together, “It’s not that simple.” Taking a deep breath, Jihoon reminded himself that Siwoo didn’t know about his situation. But still, hearing the words ‘peace and quiet’ in reference to his soulmate made his blood boil. All he had was quiet, and it was nothing close to peaceful.
“Jihoon,” Siwoo said, voice softer this time, “You’ve been torn up over your soulmate pretty frequently. Are they in a bad place? Because I know you want to be there for them but it’s not healthy to let yourself drown in their negativity.”
“Stop it.” Jihoon snapped, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Because you won’t tell me!” Siwoo said evenly, not backing down. He looked unfazed by Jihoon’s harsh tone and Jihoon suddenly felt childish. “All I know is that it makes you upset and I don’t want to see you like that.”
“They would never push their negative feelings on me. They’re really kind. And selfless. I can tell. You don’t know anything.” Jihoon mumbled.
“I wasn’t trying to speak badly about them.” Siwoo said softly, “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
“I…” Jihoon prodded miserably at his food before setting down his chopsticks in defeat, “My soulmate doesn’t want anything to do with me. They closed off our bond. I can still access their feelings if I want but they don’t offer anything voluntarily. I’m always worried they don’t want me around. That I’m a nuisance for poking around in their brain and shoving my own feelings at them all the time.”
“Oh.” Siwoo deflated, looking apologetic, “I’m sorry. If it makes you feel any better, it sounds like your soulmate is protecting you from whatever they’re going through. It could be their way of caring for you.”
“No, you don’t get it,” Jihoon said, frustrated, “Usually when I check in on them it’s not like this. It’s peaceful and serene. They’re content and happy. They worry about small things and laugh a lot. What would they be protecting me from? These moments of pain are rare, and even so I wish they would share them with me. Just now, they used their thoughts to comfort me! Because I was so torn up about the fact that they were hurting.”
“That’s just more proof he does care isn’t it?” Suhwan asked, “If they’re comforting you.”
“I guess.” Jihoon sighed.
Geonbu tapped his chopsticks gently against his cup, drawing Jihoon’s attention, “You know, what you’re describing isn’t unheard of.”
“What do you mean?”
“The closing off of emotions. It isn’t always because they want to hide from you specifically, it’s because they live a life that requires them to heavily regulate their emotions. A therapist or doctor for example. Or even a lawyer or politician. Someone that always has to be level headed and always conscious of how they present themselves.”
“Oh.” Jihoon suddenly felt foolish. All this information was probably just a google search away.
“I read an article about how the highest rate of incompatible soulmates are in these professions for this reason. Without that mental connection soulmates are just normal people to each other.” Geonbu froze when he saw the stricken look on Jihoon’s face, quickly backtracking, “I mean, since one person feels everything and is secure in that but the other person is cut off and has to actively seek out the connection there’s an imbalance. It’s just difficult for the one that is shut out. That’s all. They sometimes feel like it’s not worth it.”
Somehow the information cheered Jihoon a bit. Since he was the one that was shut out, didn’t that mean it was up to him if things worked out? He was the one in control of his own fate. He had the power to put in the work that could make things okay. He would make sure it all turned out okay. If there was anything he realized throughout his life it was that, sometimes, stubbornness and hard work was enough to make anything happen.