Snow fell soundlessly from the heavy clouds above as you and Harry trekked home from his birthday dinner. He had suggested calling a taxi when you left his friends at the restaurant, mentioning that the two of you may have had a few too many and it was a bit chilly for a midnight stroll. But the second the first flake hit your nose and you took in the way the light from the street lamps reflected off the fresh fallen snow down the path toward home, you insisted on walking.
“It’s like a postcard, Harry,” you said hopefully, pushing him to concede. Your giddy smile and flushed cheeks are what got him to agree even though he knew you’d both be chilled to the bone by the time you got home. But for now you had each other and the alcohol in your bellies to keep warm.
You had both drank more than you planned, especially Harry. But the wine had been flowing and the conversation among friends was rolling; it was the most at ease you had seen Harry in weeks. Prepping for tour always got him a bit stressed, and you only had a few more weeks before he hit the road again, so you weren’t going to put a stop to the drinking and dampen the mood. You just hoped Harry would be up for all you had planned upon the return home; you knew how a wine drunk got him a bit sleepy.
But you were reassured that Harry was less drunk than he seemed as you cut through the park together and you lost your footing a bit on the slick footpath. Before you could tumble sideways into the snowdrifts, Harry’s grip on your hand tightened as he reached to steady you by the waist. He looked down at you, checking to make sure you were all right and as an amused smile broke out across your lips, he busted out laughing.
Laughter echoed through the empty park. You clung to the edges of Harry’s coat, burying your face in his chest as you continued to giggle. His hand caressed the back of your neck as he kissed your temple. “And I thought I had too much to drink, love.”
“Hey!” You swatted his chest playfully, causing him to put his hands up to defend himself. “I’m not drunk, the path is icy.”
“Harry, really!” you giggled. “I’m not drunk.” He eyed you knowingly. It may have been dark, but you knew his eyes were shining as they always did when he was being playful. “Just a bit tipsy.”
“Just a bit tipsy,” he repeated, throwing his arm over your shoulders and continuing the journey home.
“Yes,” you said firmly before adding under your breath, “I needed to boost my confidence for later anyway.”
“Hmm?” Harry glanced down at you with intrigue. You gave him a coy smile and shrugged. He wasn’t satisfied, but he didn’t feel the need to press further. Home was close and he’d get it out of you soon enough.
Description: The only place a person can see their soulmate is in their dreams. Depending on where each person lives in the world, the dream becomes clearer when both people become closer to each other.
Ever since you were a little kid you dreamed of traveling, your mom would always say things like “every time you travel brings you closer to your soulmate”.
Hence, most of your memories as a child were abroad- the pyramids in Egypt, cafes in Paris etc.
No matter where you went, your dreams of your soulmate were always fuzzy. It was as if someone put a sheet over the camera lens.
That was until you took a gap year after you finished high school.
Always being interested in the culture, you decided to spend ten months Seoul, South Korea.
In a jet lagged trance was when the sheet was finally lifted.
A scene of an abandoned playground came into sight, with one little boy swinging alone.
As if sensing your presence, the boy stopped, looked into the lens, and smiled.
You awoke from the dream, your hand outstretched as if the boy was still right in front of you.
Every night after that, a scene would play with the same boy, and each dream the boy became older and older.
After nine months of dreams, the once young boy was now a handsome man, around the same age as you.
You became obsessed with the silent boy.
Your bedroom was covered in drawings and notes- anything to help you discover who your soulmate was.
You would post the drawings all over social media and “soul search” websites, hoping for a clue or a response.
When your ten months in Seoul was coming to a close, you decided it was hopeless in finding your soulmate.
In a fit of rage, you took down all the drawings and notes, and ripped them to shreds.
The once comforting smile of your soulmate now became something that only brought you anger and sadness.
You refused to go to sleep that last night in Seoul, for fearing that you would dream of him.
Instead, you wandered the streets of Seoul. You might as well enjoy the city while you can.
As you wandered the streets, you felt an ominous aura- someone was following you.
You glanced behind to see a hooded man about fifty meters back.
Assessing the situation, you began to walk towards sources of population, something that was hard to find at two in the morning.
The steps behind you became louder, and with that you began to ran.
Out of breath, you ran into a late night convenience store, the man close on your tracks.
Realizing the man went into the store behind you, you screamed and pointed your keys.
The only thing you didn’t account for was that the hooded figure was not as scary as he seemed, he actually had always been in your dreams.
Jutting a key at his throat, was your one and only soulmate.
Frozen, you both stood like deer in the headlight.
That was until the convenience store clerk started to whisper, “911 I would like to report an emergency”.
Quickly you explained to the clerk in your broken Korean that calling the authorities was not necessary.
Playing it off as some prank, you laughed and grabbed onto the young boy’s hand and said how that was enough games for tonight.
Fleeing the convenient store as quickly as possible, outside you peppered him with questions.
“Is there a reason why you were following me for an hour at two in the morning?” “Who are you” “Why here? Why now?”
Stuttering, the young boy explained why it was that he made his presense unknown for so long, but you didn’t hear a word- all you could focus on was the way crinkles appeared when he spoke, how the street light reflected just right onto his light brown hair, and how his hand was still holding yours.
Stopping whatever sentence he was in, all he said was “i’m jeon jungkook, and I’ve been looking for you for nineteen years, it’s nice to finally meet you.”
After introducing yourself, you two went to a park and just talked for hours and hours.
When daylight broke, Jungkook offered to walk you home, so you let him.
Once reaching your apartment, you decided you might as well invite him in for some breakfast.
But you neglected to remember how you tore apart your apartment last night in a fit of rage.
Frozen once more, you stood in your doorway trying to find what was once your kitchen floor.
Jungkook walked into your apartment and gently began to pick the papers up.
“Are these all of me?”
Sheepishly you tried to come up with a response that didn’t make you sound like some crazy stalker, but Jungkook stopped you.
Out of his back pocket he pulled a little notebook, inside were sketches of you, messy notes, and drawings of places you thought no one knew.
“I’m glad to know I wasn’t the only one” he whispered
Smiling, you two began to pick up your shambled apartment.
He gave you his sketchbook, you gave him (the now crumpled) drawings.
You began to build your relationships over burnt pancakes, swinging on playgrounds, playing video games at internet cafes, and listening to music.
Not long after you two met, he introuduced you to his friend group, who you quickly became friends with.
Which was the beginning of realization that you would have to tell people about how you and jungkook met- almost stabbing him in a 7/11 at 2am (true love).