Chapter Text
San doesn’t believe in soulmates. He despises the idea that someone in the world was perfectly made for him - as if the universe knew him better than he knew himself. Yeah, right.
San wished things were more simple - he wished people could just fall in love. He trusted himself more than the universe. But, it seems like he was the only one.
You see, things were difficult for soulmate-hating San, especially in a world where your soulmates shared the same soulmark on their skin. The soulmarks match and alter in appearance when soulmates show their marks to one another - confirming they were soulmates.
So, San was determined to keep his mark covered at all times, always wearing long sleeves to cover his forearm - even in the heat of the summer. Luckily, it was proper etiquette for people to keep their marks covered, unless they were fully matched - and most times people had marks in less accessible places like their back or thigh...
San always looked at his soulmark with disdain. He had a compass with an hourglass - the compass had eight star outlines around the edges and the compass arrow would switch directions, supposedly to point in the direction of his nearest soulmates.
Over the years, San watched as the stars slowly started filling in - from just an outline to a filled black star - but he didn’t pay much attention to it. As of now, there are six filled black stars - which means six of his soulmates had met one another.
And, more power to them, as long as they stayed away from him.
San - well he was perfectly content with his life in this small town by the sea. Thank you very much.
He worked hard all of his life, at miscellaneous jobs throughout the years, until he raised enough money to purchase a shop near the town square, just beside the fountain.
He liked their town. And, he loved plants. So, opening a flower shop seemed like the perfect opportunity.
As the years went by, San built the perfect routine. Wake up, make breakfast, head downstairs to open the store, talk to the flowers throughout the day - his reliable friends -, fulfill any bouquet or other orders, close the shop, make dinner, go to sleep.
Sometimes he would visit Wooyoung at his grandpa’s bookstore. Sometimes he would go down to the shore. But, mainly, San stuck to his perfect routine.
San’s life was quiet.
It was peaceful.
It was calm.
It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was exactly what San wanted . And, he never thought about the compass on his arm - never even bothered to look at it when he was changing or showering. No - it didn’t matter to him. Besides, the compass had only ever pointed North - never wavering.
Everything was going perfectly fine in San’s life - until.
Until - a tattoo parlor decided to open a shop just next door.
San’s life was quiet. Until the tattoo shop decided to blare their hard metal music playlist.
It was peaceful. Until the tattoo shop’s owner opened his mouth.
It was calm. Until the tattoo shop turned his whole life upside down.
~~
In the midst of winter, on a day where the grey sky yearned for the sun, the shop next to San’s was alive with unexpected noise.
He was working through his daily routine, watering the flowers and asking them about their day, when at 11am, a strong thumping emerged from the right wall. It took San a few moments to realize it was a beat and some people in the world might even refer to that beat as ‘music.’
The flowers, always temperamental, seemed to lean to the right, away from the obnoxious noise.
San rolled his eyes and tried to continue his work. After about 3 minutes, the beats died down.
Thank goodness.
As quickly as it stopped, though, another - different - beat emerged. The next ‘song’ one might say.
And, with that, he hears a small cheer and the sounds get ever louder.
A fan favorite?
San sighs. It was going to be a long day.
San knew that the shop next door had been sold - the old Mr. Kim had been looking to sell for a couple years now that his wife had passed.
San also knew that it was purchased by a group that was new to town. He had seen a couple of them briefly unloading some trucks from his living room window above the shop. But, he only spared a glance - wondering how many of them there were … five? Six?
Rumor was that they were all soulmates - although a size like that didn’t phase people much. The town was ever-growing, with newer and bigger families and soulmate groups coming and going over the years.
Lastly, San knew that it was a tattoo shop, through the inquisitive deduction of the signage. Of course, that already was a red flag in his book - why add more markings to your skin when the first was already a curse ?
But, he had done his best over the past few weeks to steer clear of the moving, and renovating, and new greetings. He knew he would meet the tenant next door eventually, but he didn’t want to interrupt his perfect routine just yet.
But, this ‘music’ - this hard metal - would become a problem to San’s perfect routine. And, quickly.
San vowed to give it a day - maybe the music was an opening-day celebration?
~~
It’s been just over a week and the ‘music’ seemed to get worse and worse - louder and louder - harder and harder.
So, on Friday morning, when the music started at 10am instead of 11am - their new opening time due to a boom in business (why did everyone in this town want a tattoo suddenly?) San decided that he had had enough.
He threw down his broom, hopped over the bags of soil littered around the ground, and moved towards the door. He quickly stomped over to the front door of the tattoo parlor and stormed in. He was assaulted by a sharp, fake coconut smell, which had him scrunching his nose in disgust.
It took him a moment to adjust to the scene around him - he hadn’t seen the shop since the renovations. Mr. Kim’s old tea shop had drastically transformed into a full tattoo parlor, with black chairs lining both walls, hundreds of music albums and drawings in ornate frames stocking the walls.
He also noticed subtle pirate-themed ornamentations: swords on the back wall, netting covering the front desk, a model ship and globe on the side desk.
Why did these guys love pirates so much?
San is still taking in the scenery, when he hears someone clear their throat. Truthfully, he can barely hear it over the blaring ‘music.’ He turns to the counter and his annoyance and anger return full fledged.
He sees a short red-haired man sitting behind the front desk, feet up on the counter. He noticed another taller man with fluffy blonde hair cleaning a station nearby. They both wear matching black t-shirts with a giant doodle wave in the middle. Both give San a pointed look.
San points to his ears and then at the speakers - which have skull stickers on them - littered in the corners of the room. The red-haired man rolls his eyes and slowly picks up his phone to pause the music. As the sound stops, San takes a deep breath and feels like he can finally live again.
“Got an appointment?” the red-haired man asks, tilting his head. San notices some smaller tattoos peeking out from under his t-shirt on his neck - they are small, but intricate - stars?
He briefly gives San a once over and scrunches his nose. San only then realizes how he must look - with his apron, covered in soil, with a permanent scowl - definitely not someone here for a tattoo.
“No - I’m actually here to formally ask you to turn down your music,” San says strongly.
“And, why would I do that, sunshine ?” the man asks, taking his feet down from the counter, leaning towards San with a smirk. San rolls his eyes at the nickname.
“It’s disturbing my work - and my flowers,” San responds, standing tall.
“Ahh, so you are our next door neighbor? We were wondering when you might peek over here,” the man responds, smirk growing and growing. San gives him an exasperated look, the fluffy blonde staying silent - San notices tattoos snaking down the man’s arms, all the way to his wrists.
“This past week has been torture. The music is scaring my customers away and I can hardly think straight, let alone work,” San replies. He wasn’t peeking.
The red-haired man sits back in his chair and puts his feet back up on the counter.
“If you don’t like the noise, sunshine, you are more than welcome to wear earplugs,” he says before grabbing his phone and pressing play.
San scoffs in disbelief at the man’s disrespect. He looks to the other man, who seems to want to say something, but holds back. The red-haired man keeps his eyes on San, as if wondering what he will do next.
“And, what about my flowers?” San says, but the music drowns it out. The red-haired man shrugs.
San turns and storms out, knowing he needs to regroup and strategize for next time.
San might have lost the battle, but he will win the war.
~~
In reality, San doesn’t know what to do about his predicament. And, frankly, things do get better. After the initial boom of customers their opening few weeks, things slow down and the tattoo parlor moves to a 12 pm starting schedule.
At least San and his flowers had peaceful mornings.
After San’s run in with the supposed owner, he knew that the man was now just testing him, blaring the music louder and louder each day, as if trying to lure him back in for another battle. But, San tried to remain calm and not take the bait.
One day, surprisingly, two employees from the tattoo parlor show up. San only knows by the wave doodles on their shirts. He stops sweeping and stands in high alert.
They both freeze upon seeing him and the shorter one raises his hands up.
“We come in peace,” he says. San gives a slight nod and they relax.
“We actually partially came to apologize for last week. Yunho told us that you and Hongjoong butted heads over the volume of our music,” the taller man says timidly - like the other tall boy from the shop, his wrists are fully inked and San almost wonders what his arms must look like below his long sleeve shirt. Almost .
“Hongjoong can be a bit of an ass at first glance - and hard set in his ways. Sometimes, his music choice is even a bit too hard-core for me,” the shorter one said with a shrug and a half smile. Unlike his counterpart, San couldn’t see a tattoo in sight. Not that he was searching.
San stays still, soaking in all of this information. He hadn’t expected anyone to apologize to him - not in a million years.
Suddenly, a strong beat emerges from the wall across the shop. San looks at the clock on the wall and it reads noon. Opening time.
“Wow, that is quite loud,” the taller one supplies with a slight wince.
“No kidding,” San finally speaks.
“We are here for an olive branch. We wanted to meet you on nicer terms and start our stay in the village on good footing. Even if Hongjoong is going to be an asshole, I promise that the rest of us won’t - I’m Jongho and this is Mingi, for starters,” the shorter one begins.
“We can try and turn down the music when he isn’t around and do our best to respect your shop. And, maybe we can buy some flowers to hopefully offset the bad business,” the taller one - Mingi - continues.
San rolls his eyes. The beat from the other side of the wall continues to blare.
“It really is loud, isn’t it?” the Mingi remarks.
San just nods and shrugs and the others let out a laugh.
“The name’s San… So, what would you like?” San asks, clapping his hands together.
“Oh - well, we know nothing about flowers,” Mingi explains, cheeks flushing a deep red.
“Or any plants in general,” Jongho seems to be blushing too.
“Is that so? Well, let’s see what I conjure up, shall we?” San says with a devilish grin. This would be fun.
“Since your captain calls me sunshine , let’s gather some yellow. To make sure he remembers it’s from me, yeah? Some birds-foot trefoil, maybe?” San explains, grabbing the yellow flower from its vase in the back, conjuring his plan in real time.
“And, I see your theme is pirates - so, let’s try and pick a plant related to long journey’s at sea. How about something mythic? Here is Helen’s flower - named after Helen of Troy from the Odyssey,” San says, taking a deep breath before opening the glass case on the back wall.
He makes sure he doesn’t breathe in until the flowers are wrapped in plastic and he’s handing them to Mingi and taking some cash from Jongho.
“This is a beautiful bouquet. Thank you so much, San. We promise we will be back,” Jongho says, mesmerized by the bouquet.
“I hope to see you both soon. Now, hand that directly to your captain, Hongjoong, and make sure he is the first to get a deep whiff of it, okay?” San says with a smile. The pair nod and say their goodbyes.
It’s only five minutes later, when San hears deep sneezes over the sound of the blaring music does he finally take a deep breath and laugh . He hopes that they can hear him.
Helen’s flower. Helenium. More commonly known as sneezeweed.
His Trojan horse.
Birds-food trefoil - symbolizing revenge.
Yes, San had won the battle. This time.
~~
Mingi and Jongho continue to visit the shop frequently, sometimes to get flowers, more often to hang out with San. And, San had to admit that although they were associated with the annoying tattoo parlor next door, they did make great company.
They thought San’s original prank was hilarious. And, apparently it had San’s archenemy - Hongjoong - fuming for a week.
San promised he wouldn’t pull a prank like that again and instead started making bouquets with beautiful scents.
“I’ll give you new scents everyday, just please stop using that wretched coconut air freshener - the flowers and I hate it,” San shuddered, which made the pair laugh and laugh and laugh.
“Give us more lavender. Joongie liked that one best,” Jongho replied. This time, San was the one who blushed.
Over the weeks, San learns more about the pair and the rest of the folks next door. True to the rumor mill, the six boys next door were indeed soulmates.
Must not be finished, if their matching soulmate tattoos weren’t out on display. Not that San was looking, or anything.
Mingi was almost fully tatted, as San thought on their first interaction. Sometimes he had his sleeves rolled up and would notice San staring. He would explain a couple tattoos (a crown, colorful hearts, some lyrics) and San would pretend to feign disinterest.
Jongho, on the other hand, admitted to not having one tattoo other than his soulmark.
“Tattoos are meaningful - I’m still searching for the right meaning before I get another one ,” Jongho explained. Mingi laughed and ruffled the younger one’s hair. But, San nodded meaningfully at the younger and tried to convey his understanding through his gaze.
They noticed that San didn’t mention anything about soulmates or soulmarks, so they steered clear of such conversations.
San also learned more about their soulmate group, bit by bit, piece by piece. He didn’t know all of their names, but he knew strange pieces of information about all of them. Of the time one of them filled the bathtub with slime… of the largest cake one of them had baked for their anniversary… of the one who was terrified of parrots…
Yes, San enjoyed the stories. He enjoyed his time with the pair. He enjoyed making bouquets - including lavender everytime now.
The pair even invited him over for dinner a couple of times, to meet the others , but San refused each time. He had his routine. And, yes, Mingi and Jongho were part of that routine now, but San didn’t want to stray too far from normalcy . No thank you.
~~
And, his feud with their lovely captain continued. He continued to blare his music and San would take to wacking his broom against the wall when the music was beyond horrible.
San took to finding more ways to prank the store - harmless of course.
On days his shop was closed - when he was restocking and repotting the flowers - he would leave flowers that attracted the most bees - aster, bee balm, borage, coneflower - just outside the shop and as close to the parlor door as possible - to allow them to bask in the sunshine, of course, nothing more . He smiled as customers squealed at the attack of bees while leaving the parlor, exclaiming they would never be back.
Similarly, the town cat had finally found its newest prey, always hanging around the alleyway near the parlor’s exit. San found himself dumping his leftover fish bits in his lovely neighbors trash can as often as he could - loving the frustrated captain’s voice trying to shoo the cat every morning, noon, and night.
It was the small things that infuriated the captain next door. And, it was those same small things that brought San the greatest satisfaction.
~~
Anyone who lived in town knew Wooyoung. Most people who lived in town had a crush on Wooyoung one time or another in their lives.
It was just that San’s crush on Wooyoung seemed to last before, during, and after his rejection from the boy. And, yet, it didn’t stop San from staying in Wooyoung’s orbit.
Once you were in his orbit, especially within his gaze, nothing else seemed to matter. At least, that’s how San felt.
Wooyoung helped run his grandpa’s bookstore just North of the town square, right up the cobblestone street.
And, as mentioned, San had a longstanding crush on Wooyoung - who doesn’t have a crush on Wooyoung?
San had professed his love a couple of years back and was rejected since Wooyoung said he was waiting for his soulmates.
“San, I hope you can understand. It’s not personal,” Wooyoung said, a harsh crease in his lovely eyebrows.
“No - no, of course. I should’ve known. I’ve heard you say that to others, I should’ve known better than to confess. It’s just a silly crush,” San stumbled upon his words, playing with his fingers to avoid Wooyoung’s gaze.
“It’s not silly. Hey, San, what if we - could I see your soulm-,” Wooyoung began but San was already out the door.
But, that didn’t stop the pair from being close. Sometimes San chose to deviate from his routine and visit the bookstore - of course to pick up a new novel, but mainly to spend time with Wooyoung.
The pair were known to hole up in the back of the bookstore, hidden amongst the piles and piles of books, and giggle over tea and picture books. Sometimes San would walk Wooyoung through plant anthologies - sometimes Wooyoung would share mythological adventures.
Yes, it had been awkward for a moment, but San cherished his friendship with Wooyoung over mostly anything else in the world. Except maybe his plants, he assumed.
The one thing the friends could never agree on was soulmates.
“And, then, the princess looked over and saw the intricate flower snaking its way down the mystery suitor's arm and felt her heart burst with color. She had finally found her one true love and finally knew what happiness felt like in his eyes, ” Wooyoung reads from a children's storybook.
“But, she was so excited to marry the wizard, like one page ago. What happened to her love for him?” San grumbled, confused by the sudden twist of fate. Wooyoung tsk’ed and nudged San.
“Oh, hush. It’s soulmates. It’s so much bigger than anything else in the world,” Wooyoung explained, as if the term ‘soulmates’ made everything make sense. San rolled his eyes, but basked in the warmth of Wooyoung’s shoulder next to his.
Yes, San was perfectly fine living in Wooyoung’s orbit… loving him from afar… cherishing their friendship.
Until one day.
San had been on his way to the bookstore, for another afternoon of tea and chit-chat with Wooyoung when he stopped short at the fountain. There, exiting the bookstore, hand-in-hand was Wooyoung with a stunning man that San had never seen before.
It wasn’t uncommon for San to not recognize somebody - people always coming and going in town - and he was always in his routine. But, this was different. Wooyoung was holding his hand and staring at him like he was the only man in the universe.
Wooyoung must’ve finally found his soulmate.
Without even thinking, San did a spin and headed straight home to process the news.
The rumor mill did its job and San finds out from an old auntie picking up her usual weekly flowers that Wooyoung did indeed meet his soulmates .
And, of course San was happy for him. Wooyoung - the boy with an electric smile, an intoxicating laugh, a cosmic gaze - of course he deserved the world. San was happy that he finally found his storybook ending.
~~
San stuck to his routine.
Everytime he tried to stray, even just leaving his house to get groceries, it felt like Wooyoung and his soulmate - Yeosang he learned is his name - were there, holding hands, laughing, smiling…
So, San became more and more of a shell of himself. Even quiet when Mingi and Jongho came by to hangout and get their usual bouquets. Neither felt comfortable enough to even ask.
Even if they did ask, what would San say?
Oh, the boy I crushed on forever but knew would never be interested in me, is finally happy?
Of course, San also briefly noticed that amongst his wallowing, his compass had filled seven of the eight stars. The arrow still firmly pointed North, but Wooyoung’s stomach twisted and ached with anxiety.
He was perfectly happy without them, thank you very much.
He hoped for dear life that now that they had found their seventh they wouldn’t try anything rash like coming to look for him.
San stuck to his routine, now filled with sorrow and anxiety and wallowing.
~~
One day, San finds himself back at the bookstore, sitting in silence flipping through a flower anthology with cold tea beside him and Wooyoung’s grandpa.
San knew Wooyoung wasn’t at the bookstore - having seen him and Yeosang pass by his own shop - but he missed the bookstore, he missed the books, and he missed the Jung’s. Even if it was just Wooyoung’s grandpa, he would take it.
Wooyoung’s grandpa was good at filling silence with comfort. San never felt awkward around the soft spoken and quiet-hearted man. He was such a contrast to the loud, boisterous energy of his grandson.
San stares down at the drawing of the hellebore - sorrow and pain - heartbreak - when he finally speaks.
“Is it lonelier in the store? Without Wooyoung around as much?” San asks pointedly, although trying to be nonchalant.
His grandpa looks up from his own novel, peeks over at San’s book, and seems to stare at him knowingly.
“Quieter, yes. But, not necessarily lonelier. Especially, when I know he is happy,” he responds. San nods in response.
“We always knew this day would come,” the old man continues, slowly closing the book. San ponders on the term ‘we’ as it’s just been Wooyoung and his grandpa for many years now…
It’s then that he notices the etching in the cover of the book in the old man’s hands. The old man traces the compass with his finger, softly, but with finality.
“You know how Wooyoung is about soulmates. Wooyoung’s compass only ever pointed in one direction most of his life - South, near the fountain by the square. But, he always dreamed of the possibilities - the fairytale ending. It started to move around more and more in recent months, so I knew he would find them sooner or later,” the old man continued, eyes never leaving the book cover.
San feels all the air leave his lungs.
“Compass?” is all San can respond. The old man nods and gives San a pointed look. If San’s heart wasn’t cracking, smashing, crumbling into a million pieces, he might’ve been able to decode the look.
But, instead, he jumps up and leaves Wooyoung’s grandpa, the books, and the cold tea behind. He feels himself on the brink of sobbing as he stumbles home.
He’s almost made it to his shop when he notices a familiar red-haired boy storm out of the tattoo parlor door and straight in front of him.
“Was it you who poured olive oil all over our door knobs so no one could enter our shop? I will say the ‘olive branch’ on the ground was a nice touch, sunshine , but this is going too far. It could’ve gotten on the floor and someone could’ve slipped and fallen,” Hongjoong fumed, his face as red as his hair.
“Fine. Truce. I’ll stop with the pranks and you can blare your music all you want, happy?” San said, trying to hold back his tears. He tries to turn away from Hongjoong so he won’t see him falling apart, but the red-haired man’s face seems to get softer, more confused.
“Great - but, are you okay? ” Hongjoong asks, with sincerity in his voice. San had never heard his voice soft and almost caring like that before.
“Just dandy,” is all San can get out before brushing past the man and into his own shop.
He gets to the staircase while he finally breaks down - tears streaming down his face.
Wooyoung’s soulmark was a compass. The same as San’s.
Wooyoung’s soulmark pointed in the direction of his nearest soulmate. It always pointed South. San’s always pointed North.
Wooyoung was San’s soulmate. Well, one of his soulmates, at least.
San slowly makes his way up the stairs and allows himself to collapse onto his bed and fully let out the sobs he had been holding in.
San was Wooyoung’s soulmate. Wooyoung was his.
And, yet.
San thinks back over the years. To all of their days spent in the back of the bookstore. He thinks back to all of their conversations, about life and soulmates. He thinks back to the day San confessed his love.
But, then he remembers the truth. Wooyoung never saw him that way - he even rejected him all those years ago. Even if they were soulmates, it meant nothing to Wooyoung . It wouldn’t change anything. And, San shouldn’t force Wooyoung to love him.
Soulmarks were the universe’s way of forcing love. And, Wooyoung deserved the universe and all that was beyond it. San wouldn’t force him - or anyone else - to love him against their will.
So, San knows what he needs to do. What he’s needed to do ever since he was old enough to know what the compass on his arm meant.
San was going to sever the bond.