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Amaryllis: The Future || JHS

For the @bangtanscenery​ - April Showers Bring May Flowers Project in celebration of the Spring Season!

Plot: Everything always comes full circle. A soul falls into the ether, hoping to be reborn in the next cycle. If a desire is strong enough, it can manifest across space and time. Two souls reunite and are given a second chance, hoping that their love will be rekindled even stronger than it was before.

Rating: PG-13 // SFW

Genre: soulmate!au | reincarnation!au | angst | romance | drama

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x Female OC (Erica Bronwyn/Bayaraa Ehri)

Warnings: Mild language, angst, identity crisis, fluff, mentions of religion and mental health

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 9.0K

AN: Y'all. I just can't with this story. Part of me is glad it's over. Part of me is upset I didn't expound on this more. But they say that every writer should know when to let a story finish. So with this second part, this tragic story now has a happy ending. Thank you everyone who was patient with me and adored my work. It means so much to me.

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

Present Day Gwacheon – Gyeonggi Province South Korea

Hoseok stared at the paperwork in front of his desk. Every so often, he would blink at it before shifting to the next page. He had so many questions, but the main one sat at the forefront of his mind. He turned another page, this time with photographs showcasing various pieces of art by a specific artist; the artist in question whose portfolio was sent to him earlier that week. 

“What do you think?” asked Namjoon.

Lifting his eyes to meet Namjoon’s, Hoseok raised a single brow. “I just have one question.”

He watched as Namjoon leaned back in the plush leather chair. “What?”

“Why me?” Hoseok returned his gaze back to the photos. “Why us?”

He heard Namjoon sigh as he readjusted himself in his seat. “Honestly, I don’t know.” 

This pulled at Hoseok’s curiosity. Namjoon was the Archivist and assistant Director to the art gallery they owned while Hoseok served as both the Curator and Director. In all the years they’d been opened, they never came across a situation like this. Their gallery wasn’t a well-known venue for art exhibitions. In fact, it ranged on the small side. Not many people knew about them and they focused on Indie Art and lesser-known artists to be able to give them a chance to be recognized and gain some viewership from the public.

But as Hoseok looked at the works in the photographs by this particular artist, he still couldn’t wrap his head around it. 

“Erica Bronwyn,” he murmured, but loud enough so Namjoon could hear, “a young, up and coming glass and metalworks artist who has gained much popularity in Italy, France, and England. Every gallery that has showcased her work has garnered a lot of success and positive response. Her stylistic focus on ancient Asian culture is a keypoint in all of her artwork, always adding a specific floral motif for each of her collections.”

“Too much?” Namjoon brushed some of his hair out of his eyes. 

Hoseok shook his head as he leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. “I just don’t get it, Namjoon-ah.” Again, he met his friend’s gaze. “Why us? Compared to the other galleries in South Korea, we’re nobodies.”

Namjoon barked with laughter as he raised his brows slightly. “I know, right?”

Unlike his best friend, Hoseok didn’t find this funny in the slightest. As he looked back at the portfolio, he couldn’t help but feel like someone was trying to pull a fast one on him. Had he missed the memo where he signed up to be part of a prank cam show? He wouldn’t put it past Namjoon, but with Winter winding down and yielding into Spring, Hoseok wasn’t in the mood to play any kind of games.

He didn’t know why, but this time of year alwaysleft him feeling especially melancholy.

One of the assistants at the gallery, Jisoo, came into their office with a tray of tea. They thanked her and she quickly excused herself, stating that she was going to do her rounds before closing up. After she left, Hoseok curled his fingers around his chin, his brows furrowed in thought. He just didn’t understand any of it.

“And no other galleries made any offers?” He reached for his teacup. “We don’t have much in terms of money. I mean, we are able to comfortably get by but I would think other curators would be dying to get their claws into any exhibition she would bring to the table.”

Namjoon swallowed a bit of tea while humming. “Oh no,” he said, setting the cup down on the saucer, “there were offers. Really nice ones, in fact. I talked to a few of the other archivists and directors from the more well-known ones in Seoul. Her agent turned them all down on her behalf.”

“But why, is what I’m getting at.” He could hear the exasperation in his own voice. “Why us, Namjoon? I don’t get it.”

“Y’know, Hoseok-ah, I don’t know.” Namjoon reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small business card. “But her agent did say that if you had any questions to contact Miss Bronwyn directly.” Hoseok took the card from Namjoon and studied the labeling on it which had a copy of her elegant signature on it. “Her cell number is on the back.”

Hoseok stared at the number on the back. He wasn’t sure why there was a sense of reticence swelling inside of his chest as he stared at the handwritten phone number. It looked like every other scribble in a long list of scribbles he’d looked at. But as his eyes lifted to peer back at Erica’s portfolio, an ache sat in the center of his lungs and made it difficult to breathe. His vision blurred momentarily and it wasn’t until he felt Namjoon’s hand on his shoulder that he realized what happened.

He was crying.

Reincarnation was a strange subject matter. Many religions spoke of the phenomenon differently. Not all of them were wrong, but not all of them were right either. If Erica had to pinpoint which faith got it right, it would discount them all. So she simply chose to believe what was the correct one from her interpretation.

In this life, her name was Eric Bronwyn. It was the name that her parents gave her when she was brought into this world. She believed that her name was Erica Bronwyn. 

But at the age of seven, a different truth came to light. Suddenly, she was flooded with memories of a life that she didn’t recognize. People spoke to her in a language Erica didn’t understand and the faces of those people were warm and affectionate. Over the years, she studied and tried to piece together the meaning behind all of these occurrences. Studying foreign languages and focusing on the scenes that flashed in her mind’s eye.

At thirteen, Erica realized who the people were. 

Her parents. Her sisters. Her family.

And a name. Her old name. 

Ehri.

Honing her talent for arts and crafts, Erica began breathing life into the images. She painted portraits of her parents, her sisters, and the close friends that she had in that world; in that life. Erica’s mother asked her where she was painting from; the portraits of the individuals of a completely different ethnic background and culture than her own. Part of her wanted to tell her parents in this life what it meant, but Erica also didn’t want to concern them over the minor details. 

Year by year, Erica lived two lives. One was her everyday life in the current time period and the other cycled parallel to the present. Every step she took, she could see both her path and the path of Bayaraa Ehri simultaneously. When Erica walked through a busy city street and concrete sidewalks, she could also see the grassy hills and mountain krags in tandem. When it rained outside at night, Erica also saw a colorful twilight sky free from a torrential downpour.

Every single day and every single moment, Erica and Ehri existed at the same time.

For a while, Erica believed that something was mentally wrong with her. Was she deranged? Did she need medical attention for this? How would she even begin explaining the cycle of reason without sounding ludicrous herself?

On her 22nd birthday, everything came to a head.

Erica just graduated and was starting out in the world. She knew she wanted to be an artist. But she couldn’t determine which medium suited her the most. Skilled in oil painting, sculpting and watercolor, she decided to visit a few art museums and galleries across Europe. While in Italy, she saw a small gallery that happened to be open on that particular day. Upon entering, only one other patron was visiting at the same time she was.

She couldn’t see him from the back and he was staring at a large oil painting of a spider lily. It was the gallery’s main showcase and Erica felt herself drawn to the piece more than the person looking at it. The two of them stood a few feet apart from each other, eyes locked onto the painting; unable to avert their gazes for even a second.

And then the young man finally spoke.

“Have you ever heard of the legend of the Spider Lily?”

A sharp pain struck Erica’s chest at that moment. Clutching at the front of her shirt, she turned to look at him. His face looked so familiar and everything in her mind seemed to rush forward all at once. When he asked if she was alright, a different face overlapped the man’s. Before she realized it, Erica burst into tears as her heart flooded with a turbulent storm of emotions. 

The man she remembered was Hoseok. The man she met that day was Benjamin Reinhart.

Benjamin stayed with her for years and he was the first person Erica told her secret to. But he didn’t react the way she feared others would. He was calm and understanding. And then he was determined to help her find the man that her soul remembered. 

In another year, Ehri and Erica were truly one and the same person. All of Ehri’s memories were now Erica’s, nestled safely beside the ones she made in her current life cycle. It was a terrifying transition, at least at first. Erica feared that the person she was would be erased by Ehri's own memories. They were powerful, passionate, and something to admire. But Erica went through her own struggles in her life. She didn’t want those memories to be destroyed.

When it became clear that Erica wouldn’t disappear, relief washed over her. She could access Ehri’s memories at will, wanting to know more about her past and the man who encompassed all of Ehri’s heart. 

It took Erica three years to find the one called “Hoseok”. Using a good chunk of her money and resources from showcasing her work throughout Europe, Benjamin’s search bore fruit. When he came back with several pictures, she was able to point out the one from Ehri’s memories. 

There was a part of her that hesitated, however. Mostly because her physical appearance didn’t match Ehri’s. Couldn’t that have been the case with Hoseok? What if the person in the picture wasn’t the Hoseok from Ehri’s memories? 

The problem called for more research. Erica threw herself into studying the various forms of reincarnation and which cases were similar to her own. There weren’t many and while most of them were informative on the person experiencing the soul rebirth, it didn’t speak much on those who may have been reborn but had no memories of their old lives. Many texts referred to it as “drinking from the Spring of Forgetfulness”. 

There was a passage, however, that gave Erica some hope. As stated in folklore, anyone who was set for reincarnation and drank from the Spring of Forgetfulness, would retain the form they had in their previous life to make themselves recognizable to those who did not drink from the spring. If Ehri’s memories were inside of Erica, then that meant Ehri hadn’t drank from the Spring of Forgetfulness. 

The caveat? Her physical appearance changed.

Everything else would be left to chance.

Cradling the coffee mug between her fingers, Erica could hardly contain her excitement. Elation mixed with anxiety created a stormy cocktail of conflicting emotions within her. Jung Hoseok, curator of one of the smaller art galleries in the Gwacheon area, finally agreed to meet with her. She honestly wondered if he would bother giving her the time of day, even with her popularity in Europe with her works. Any art director would be suspicious since her agent made it clear that she would not want her pieces showcased anywhere in South Korea. If he didn’t accept her offer, then she wouldn’t be displaying her work in any art gallery in the country.

Her PR agents were curious why she was so hellbent on making sure her pieces were showcased at Hoseok’s gallery. Erica didn’t have a definitive answer. Just that it had to be his. The reasoning wasn’t as important as the need for them to be placed there. Her agent, Benjamin, didn’t question her further. He knew how eccentric Erica could be and as a woman of color in the metal works medium of art, it was a constant uphill battle for her. Pressing her on minor details would be pointless.

Besides, who would take her reasons seriously?

It wasn’t like she could tell just anyone that she wanted to see the man who was her soulmate.

When the small bell chimed as the door opened, Erica felt her heart slam into her chest. As she looked up, she could see Hoseok slowly enter the cafè. She held her hand up to him, waving to get his attention, and he spotted her fairly quickly. He smiled back, waving and quickly crossed the small space to reach her. 

“Hi,” she said while standing, “I’m so glad you could make it.”

Hoseok reached out to grasp her hand, shaking it politely. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me on such short notice.”

Erica smirked, shaking her head as they sat down. “Not at all. I wasn’t sure if you would accept my offer in the first place.”

A waitress came by, offered Hoseok a glass of water, and then he placed his order: an iced Americano. He met Erica’s gaze as he brushed some of his fringe from his brows. “Well, you didn’t make it easy for me.”

“What do you mean?” Erica canted her head slightly. “Was I asking for too much?”

“I wouldn’t call it asking for too much as I would asking for not much at all.”

She was genuinely confused. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I quite understand…”

For a moment, neither of them said another word. The waitress brought out Hoseok’s drink and he took a generous sip before clearing his throat. Again, he lifted his gaze to meet hers and there was a heavy ache that seemed to hollow out the lower portion of her stomach. Ehri’s feelings were on the brink of overwhelming her and Erica had to clench her trousers to keep herself from spiraling into an emotional outburst.

“It’s been bugging me. You’re such a well-known, up and coming artist. Why are you so adamant about showcasing your work at my galleria?”

Erica bit back a sigh of relief, feeling the need for an outburst starting to melt away. “You really take the time to focus on lesser-known works of art, as well as artists. And you take pride in making sure that the best representation is given to those artists.” She pressed her fingers along the sides of her cup. “Anyone can see how much you care. It isn’t about making a profit for you.”

It was only a half truth. Erica couldn’t bring herself to dump everything that slowly filled up inside of her over the years. Not only was it not fair, it was illogical. No one wanted baggage dumped unnecessarily into their laps unexpectedly. 

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she watched as Hoseok seemed to openly gauge her response, as well as her reactions. He took another sip of his coffee and Erica fidgeted with her nails along the surface of her coffee mug. The sound of ice clinking together kept her tethered as she waited for him to say something; anything.

“Alright,” he said finally, reaching across the table to offer his hand, “then I guess we’re partners for the time being.”

Unable to mask her joy, Erica grasped his hand with both of hers and shook it. She flashed an open-mouthed smile when she saw the surprise on Hoseok’s face. It quickly melted into amusement, but Erica didn’t mind if he thought she was silly. This was just the first step. A first of many.

After they finished shaking hands, Hoseok pulled out his phone. “I’ll have the assistant director forward the paperwork to your agent.” She waited for him to send the message and then he politely set his phone on the table. “So, can you tell me what the theme of your showcase will be this time?”

This was the moment that would help determine the way the course of events would unfold. This very moment. Erica knew it and so did Ehri. She had to choose her words wisely. She had to make this count for all that she could hope for.

She lifted her cup to her lips, took a generous sip of coffee, and set the cup back down on the saucer. Her eyes lingered on Hoseok’s for a few more seconds before speaking, a smile pulling at the corners of her lips.

“Have you ever heard of the legend of the Spider Lily?”

Lycoris radiata.

Bulg-eun Geomi Baeghab.

Manjusaka.

Higanbana.

Amaryllis.

They were all names referencing the red spider lily.

Hoseok found it a little strange that Erica wanted to showcase an Autumn Equinox flower in the middle of Spring. Even stranger, this was a flower that often was used to symbolize death. When he thought back to her portfolio, none of her pieces were quite as somber in tone as the red spider lily. In fact, in the language of flowers, Erica seemed to use positive terms in each of her collections. Nothing as melancholy or tragic as the spider lily.

When he thought back to the conversation he had with her a week ago, Hoseok couldn’t quite shake the feeling of nostalgia that blanketed over him. She spoke of the spider lily’s legend in a way that almost made one think she believed such a tale. He’d heard the story a long time ago - a story his great grandmother once imparted to him. But it was just a story about star-crossed lovers. There was nothing exciting or happy about it, so he quickly pushed it from his mind.

Hearing Erica’s version, however, left him feeling unsettled. Was it the sincerity in her voice or was it something else? He wanted to know why his heart felt such a heavy weight of sadness when he thought of her face as she spoke of the flower’s legend.

Her pieces were set to be displayed at the end of May. That would give her just over three weeks to complete her showcase. When he asked why Erica chose to make her art pieces after signing contracts, she said that it was simply a way to push her creativity to the limit. Knowing there was a set deadline prioritized her pacing and helped to generate a more stylistic approach compared to the normal methods. 

Erica seemed open, honest, and didn’t appear to have anything to hide. Part of Hoseok thought this trepidation was silly and unwarranted. When he brought up his concerns to Namjoon, he encouraged Hoseok to just talk to her. He didn’t think the solution would be something as simple as that, but he couldn’t refute it until he actually tried it.

So he waited to gain access to the workshop that Erica was currently renting out to put her pieces together. In truth, Hoseok never showcased much in the realm of glass or metal art pieces in his gallery. Most of it was the traditional watercolor, oil painting, or even sculptures of clay or stone. This was a new subject, even for him. 

When the metal doors slid open, a rush of heat immediately pressed against his entire body. Hoseok coughed from the suddenness of it, using his forearm to shield the lower half of his face to keep himself from breathing in the heat. Sweat slid down his neck and bubbled along the bridge of his nose. Hoseok’s eyes began to water in response to the stifling heat. 

Something cold touched his neck, causing him to jump slightly from shock at the sudden sensation. When he turned, he saw Erica holding out a bottle of water for him. He gave a sheepish smile as he took it from her. She helped herself to a generous swig from her own bottle and he couldn’t help but admire her rugged appearance. 

A thick leather work apron was wrapped around her body, a pair of thick gloves stuffed into the large front pocket. Her jeans were worn, stuffed into a pair of combat boots. Erica’s shirt was a black, loose fitted tank top, showcasing the muscle definition in her arms. There were a few scrapes and telltale red marks that indicated she’d suffered a few scorches from the flames she used in her work. He wouldn’t have guessed she had such a physique after having seen her in person for their casual business meeting.

There was a sheen of sweat along her olive skin, giving it a warm glow. Hoseok’s cheeks flushed slightly when he realized she was now looking back at him just as intently.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, averting his gaze, “I didn’t mean to intrude during your work hours.”

Erica waved off his apology. “It’s fine. I was just about to call it a day.” She turned toward the direction of where the heat was coming from. “Douse the furnace, guys!”

Within a few seconds, hissing noises were heard and the heat radiating from one particular area began to dissipate. A few metal shutters were slid closed and lights began to blink off one after another. Only one section was still lit and it was to the far left of the warehouse. Hoseok only managed to blink a few times before he heard Erica laughing beside him.

“Would you like to take a peek?” she asked, gesturing to the cluster of things covered with simple sheets. 

“If you don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” she said, motioning for him to follow her to the far corner. 

Erica reached for the switch to one of four standing lamps. One by one, she pulled to turn them all on, then grasped a corner of one of the sheets. With an unnecessarily dramatic flourish, she lifted the sheet up and off to let it flutter to the floor.

What was revealed from beneath had Hoseok’s lips parting in awe. Glistening under the amber lighting were various glass and metal pieces situated on pedestals. All of them contained an element of the red spider lily. There was a glass orb with a spider lily design blown across the surface, coloring the opposite side with the reflection from the light. A traditional looking Asian fan containing glass and metal had the red spider lily emblazoned along the spread. Around the edge of the fan were clusters of glass spider lilies. 

There were easily twelve pieces already completed. Each a different shape, style, or ornament with the red spider lily as the focus or accent to the work. But what had Hoseok pausing in mid-swig of his water was the metal spider lily that sat on a white satin pillow. He wasn’t sure if it was the lighting or the type of metal Erica chose to forge with, but the flower had an ethereal sheen to it that nearly mesmerized him. He unconsciously began reaching for it, stopping just before his fingers could actually touch it.

A sudden shock rocketed up his arm, startling him. Recoiling, he pulled his hand back quickly. He managed a few short breaths before collecting himself. “I’m sorry…” Hoseok pressed the heel of his palm to his forehead. “I don’t know what came over me just now.”

Erica said nothing. She just looked at him, her expression giving away nothing. Hoseok wasn’t sure if he'd made her mad, but she didn’t appear to be upset with him. After a moment of unbearably awkward silence, she smiled and moved to pick up the sheet from the floor. 

“I’m glad you like them,” was all she said before covering up her artworks with the sheet. Wiping her hands along the front of her apron, Erica reached into the front pocket and pulled out a hair tie. As she pulled her thick curls back into a low ponytail, she glanced over her shoulder back at the concealed pieces. “I should be done in another week. Just in time to get everything set up for the showcase.”

Something inside of Hoseok mourned their absence once they were completely hidden from view. There was a soft ache nestled at the front of his chest and he absentmindedly rubbed at it. Erica seemed to sense a shift in his demeanor and she gently placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

“Are you tired?”

A flash of white erupted in his line of sight, almost blinding him. Hoseok’s ears began to ring as different voices seemed to jump around in his head. Replacing the white void was a lush green field and when he next looked up, he was staring face to face with not Erica, but a different woman. She blinked up at him as she lifted her face from her forearms, looking a little sleepy. 

Her lips parted and she leaned back quickly, gasping a little as he blinked curiously at her.

“W-What?” she stammered out, heat rushing up her neck and spreading over her cheeks. “What’s the matter?”

He was crouched down on the ground, his elbows resting on his knees. But he didn’t move any closer to her. “I was asking if you were tired.”

And in a flash, it was gone. He was back in the world he knew, his eyes wide and staring straight into Erica’s face. She was close, as if inspecting his features, and he felt her press the back of her wrist against his forehead. 

“W-What’s the matter?” he asked, his voice trembling.

She frowned, but didn’t meet his eyes. “I was asking if you were tired.” 

Hoseok’s heart practically lodged itself in his throat. 

“But now that I’m getting a better look, you don’t seem so good. It might be the heat.” Erica took a step back while reaching into her apron pocket. “I’ll call a cab for you.” Turning her back to him, she shifted her focus to her phone, leaving Hoseok dazed and confused.

His body reacted before his mind could. He quickly closed the distance between them, slamming his chest into her back. His water bottle clattered to the floor and he heard Erica gasp, feeling her back muscles tense up as he wrapped his arms around her waist. Hoseok felt vibrations along his skin and it was hard for him to tell if Erica was the one shaking, or if it was him.

“D-Director Jung?”

Her voice brought Hoseok crashing back to reality. He promptly released her, taking several steps back as he held his hands up. “I’m...I’m so sorry.”

Erica turned to look at him. However, instead of an expression of rage or confusion, he could see something akin to sadness. Why was she sad? Had he somehow damaged something that he hadn’t intended to? And why had his body reacted in such a way? It felt natural. Being that near to her felt right and safe. 

Yet he couldn’t ignore the heavy despair that sat at the bottom of his lungs.

He quickly pivoted on his heels, making his way toward the entrance of the warehouse. The echo of his footsteps reverberated off the walls, but only his. Erica made no move to chase after him.

“Do you have to go?”

Her voice blanketed every square inch of him, halting him in mid-retreat. Craning his neck slowly, he glanced over to see that Erica was holding her phone at her side. Her expression never changed, still showing that sad sense of longing that he couldn’t quite understand the reasoning behind it. Her entire being was a mystery and one that he didn’t think he’d be able to escape from.

Another voice echoed in his mind.

“I don’t want you to go.”

It was his own.

Something was wrong and he didn’t know how to fix it. All he could do was run for now. It was the easiest solution, even though he knew it probably wasn’t the best one.

“...I’ll see you when it’s time to prepare for the showcase, Miss Bronwyn. Have a good rest of your evening.”

And without wanting to risk looking back, Hoseok quickly moved down the sidewalk. There was no way he was driving back home. Not with his nerves this severely rattled. Pulling out his phone, he was already dialing Namjoon.

He needed a drink.

The showcase was successful and received tons of recognition and positive feedback. It was to be expected. Erica was far from arrogant, but she was completely confident in her own skills. If anyone had anything negative to say, it was usually in reference to her chosen style and medium than anything else. But even the harshest of critics would finally admit that her talent was forged from years of practice, study, and due diligence. She should have been proud and, in some measure, she was.

But surface level pride could only do so much to nourish her spirit.

Erica could feel her determination starting to wane. The encounter she had with Hoseok at her warehouse caused a surge of hope to ignite inside of her. But following his hasty retreat, she hadn’t been able to get in touch with him. All calls were forwarded to Namjoon and while he did his best to reassure her that everything was fine, Erica could hardly take comfort in his words.

The way he embraced her in the workshop fueled something inside of both Ehri and herself. While the passion simmered on the surface from Ehri’s memories, Erica felt drawn to Hoseok as well. Her own affection and longing to understand him stayed hovering above the surface. She wanted to know him and empathize with him, not because of the past, but for the present.

Ehri’s feelings coincided with her own. They both wanted Hoseok to heal and feel the beauty of reconnection. But it wouldn’t be possible if he kept keeping her at a distance. She didn’t know when she would be able to talk to him again outside of work-related subjects. Would there be an opportunity to bridge the gap before she was scheduled to head back to the United States?

She wanted to be able to impart something to him before what little development happened disappeared into a puff of smoke.

Her phone buzzed on her nightstand and Erica absentmindedly looked at the screen. It was Namjoon, reminding her that there was to be a celebratory dinner being held in her honor in a few hours. Benjamin told her that it would be in her best interest to attend, regardless of the outcome and of the events that transpired prior to tonight. Erica wasn’t sure if she wanted to go, but she also knew that there was a level of professionalism and decorum that needed to be adhered to. 

Picking up her phone, she texted Namjoon that she would meet them there. Sighing, she looked back at her reflection in the mirror. Erica’s appearance was so different from Ehri’s. Being half Korean and half African American at least blessed her with Asian eyes and a Korean button nose. But her olive skin, thick curly hair and heart-shaped face helped to differentiate her from the rest of the crowd. Not belonging to one community or the other, it took a lot of struggles in her life to accept and respect her origins.

Having the soul of a Mongolian woman from centuries in the past made adjusting to her life in the present a little bit harder to deal with than she would have cared to admit.

“May as well try to enjoy myself,” she muttered, moving from the vanity to begin getting ready. 

Erica opted for a simple hunter green cocktail dress. It was safe, eloquent but not too gaudy to bring a lot of attention to herself. Dolling up her face with natural makeup and a soft bronzer for the finish, she chose gold hoops and a simple gold necklace with a flower pendant to finish the look. She pulled her hair up into a high ponytail placed on the side to accentuate her high cheekbones. Slipping into a pair of simple, black strappy heels, she grabbed her purse and dialed for a cab. 

It didn’t take her long to arrive. This particular lounge was a comfortable bar and restaurant. Reservations were required to enter, as well as an appropriate dress code. After she gave the host her name, she was escorted to the back to a private dining area. 

Her assistants at the shop and Benjamin greeted her warmly. Namjoon came and shook her hand, as well as giving her a hug. Hoseok was the last to speak with Erica and his appearance seemed serene and unsettled. It was a stark contrast to the last time she saw him, having seen his visibly shaken countenance soon after he embraced her. But now he conducted himself like a professional in every sense of the word.

She was smiling on the outside, but on the inside Erica could feel the distance growing even more between them.

Everyone cheered and congratulated Erica on her endeavors. It was a grueling two and a half weeks, but everything was complete and they all reassured her that the showcase went off without a hitch. She smiled and laughed when it was appropriate, downing flute after flute of champagne. It was the only way she could keep the pain in her chest at bay. Bellies full with food and booze, Erica quickly excused herself so she could enjoy the evening air on the lounge’s back patio.

The cool breeze soothed her warm skin, allowing her a small respite from her thoughts. Smiling sadly to herself, she had to admit that the evening was fun and her time in Korea was also enjoyable. There was no sense in rushing anything, even though she could feel Ehri’s desperation to reunite with the man she loved. But didn’t Erica have a say as well? This was her life just as much as it was Ehri’s. It was unfair to push all unresolved feelings of yearning onto someone who wasn’t prepared for it.

Things had to be taken slowly. Patience needed to be grasped.

“It’s a beautiful evening,” a voice said from behind her.

Erica turned, surprised to see Hoseok standing out on the patio with her. He handed her a glass of water and she politely accepted it. Turning back to face the city, she leaned against the metal railing and looked up at the sky. Hoseok sidled up next to her, taking in the fresh air and the landscape as well.

“Thank you for hosting this party for me, Director Jung.” It was the only thing Erica could think to say at that particular moment. She didn’t want to create any awkward tension between them.

“Please, just call me Hoseok.” Erica turned to look at Hoseok, blinking in semi-shock to see him actually looking back at her. His brows furrowed and he seemed to be battling internally with something. “I want to apologize for my behavior. It was rude and uncalled for.” She opened her mouth to speak, but Hoseok shook his head, silencing all protests she might have had. “No. Truly, it was unacceptable. Instead of rationalizing what happened that day at your workshop, I let my emotions get the better of me and pushed you away.”

Her shoulders sagged as her expression darkened. She didn’t want this kind of apology. She wanted understanding and to have a conversation about what happened. Apologizing for it meant that Hoseok most likely wanted to sweep it under the rug; to forget about everything. But if his response was anything remotely close to what she was hoping for, a type of awakening, then the last thing she wanted was to have him ignore it. 

“There are these feelings I can’t shake when I’m around you.” Erica saw a pained look cross his features as Hoseok reached up to grasp at the front of his shirt. “Hell, even when I’m not around you, I’m overwhelmed. I hear my voice and I see you.” He paused long enough to avert his gaze. “But then I don’t see you. I can’t figure out the meaning behind it all and it's haunted me every waking hour since we separated.”

Erica felt her lips part slightly, wanting to reach out and hold him close. She wanted to let him know that everything would be fine. He just needed to take it slow. He just needed to breathe. 

Instead, she smiled and grasped his hand in her own. “It’s okay to be scared, y’know?” He lifted his gaze to meet her eyes. “I was scared too.”

Hoseok blinked, his confusion obvious. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve read about this sort of thing happening. It could transpire in a variety of different ways. Every case is different.” Erica squeezed his hand, pressing her thumb into the center of his palm. “What you’re experiencing is the direct result of having met me. Your mind is starting to process what your body already accepts and understands.”

This was probably too much at once. Erica could sense it from the cold sweat forming in Hoseok’s palms. But every time she felt him beginning to pull away, she continued to hold his hand even tighter. Running from this wasn’t an option. He would either choose to submit to this ideology or deny it altogether. 

Running was out of the question.

“E-Erica-ssi,” he stammered, his eyes widening with every word she spoke. It broke her heart and fueled her determination simultaneously. “I...I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

“Hoseok-ah,” Erica said slowly, dropping the honorific on purpose. It startled her more than it did him, despite it visibly showing on his face. “When you look into my eyes, what do you see? What do you feel when you look at me?”

Silence swirled around them, the ambient noise of the city a mere whisper on the cusp of how much energy was radiating between them. Erica maintained eye-contact with Hoseok and the intensity of her gaze was enough to keep him from looking away. She needed him to see what was buried in the depths of her soul; the very person who wished so hard to be reborn just so she could be with the man she loved so much. 

The transition would be terrifying to experience, but at least he wouldn’t have to do it alone.

She watched him swallow the lump in his throat and for a split second, her vision blurred from the onset of tears she was fighting so hard not to shed. Erica couldn’t afford to break down now. Not when he was so close to voicing the truth he wouldn’t be able to escape.

“I see you. But a you that isn’t you.” Hoseok bit his lower lip and she could feel his body trembling as she continued to hold his hand. “I feel like I know you. But the me that knows you isn’t someone I recognize.” He held a hand to his forehead, his hip leaning against the metal railing for support. “He has my voice...but there’s something off about it.”

“It’s not off. It’s just different. What else?” Erica rubbed comforting circles with her thumb along his knuckles now to ease the tension. “Do you remember anything else?”

“A name.”

Erica’s heart hammered like thunder against her ribs. “...a name?”

With his hand still pressed to his forehead, he peered into her eyes and something different swirled in his dark depths. It was clarity and resignation, albeit fearful. But it sat confidently in his gaze, his eyes taking on a glassy sheen under the fluorescent bulbs from the street lamps. 

“Your name.” He took a step forward, twisting his hand so that his fingers were laced through hers. “I see you, Bayaraa Ehri.”

The tears she’d been holding back mercilessly fell, streaming her cheeks. She dropped the glass of water from her hands, letting it shatter around her feet. She didn’t care that her feet were wet or that she’d broken something. The sound barely registered in her mind. Erica never imagined this feeling of reconnection would explode inside of her. It was like Ehri’s soul was singing with renewed vigor; her second breath of life finally given the opportunity to breathe ; to be.

She smiled through her tears, relishing in the feel of Hoseok’s hand resting against her cheek. His thumb stroked affectionate circles beneath her eye. The look on his face mirrored the face of the man Bayaraa Ehri loved so much.

A face that Erica Bronwyn loved as well.

“I see you too, Wang Hoseok…” She reached up to brush her fingers through the fringe of his hair. “And I see you, Jung Hoseok.”

Not wanting to destroy the moment, all Erica could do was bask in the glow of her own feelings. Not Ehri’s, but her own sense of joy and fulfillment in that very instant. Hoseok pulled her closer and she felt her heart rate escalate until she was forced to close her eyes. She felt his breath along her skin as her body pressed against his; melding into it.

And then his lips brushed against hers, sending her whole world into a tailspin.

Her mouth parts slightly at his silent insistence, tasting his lips. It was a mixture of champagne and her raspberry lip gloss. Erica’s heart thumped painfully in her chest, nearly causing her legs to buckle in agony. She felt Hoseok’s fingers curl even tighter through her own, his other hand having vacated the planes of her face to press along the curve of her lower back. Erica’s own hand gripped at the base of his neck, the roaring thunder of her heart exploding in her ears.

Until there was stillness. Silence. So quiet that both body and soul could savor the moment; to, once again, garner meaning to their existence. 

Erica Bronwyn was scared.

Bayaraa Ehri was terrified.

Both were elated beyond measure.

“Oh, that?” He stood from the small stool situated at her bedside and retrieved the box from the table. After he sat back down, he opened it and showed her the metallic spider lily inside. “Do you like it?”

She nodded.

“I’m glad.” He closed the box. “It was supposed to be your wedding present, but I figured this would help lift your spirits some.”

Ehri sighed a little, her brows furrowing. “But didn’t you say that the legend of the Spider Lily is a sad story?” She pouted again. “Why would you give me such a thing as a wedding present?”

Hoseok reached out to pet her head. “I bought this from an artisan who claimed that this flower is different from the actual spider lily.”

“Different how?”

Again, he opened the box to show her the lovely flower. “He said that anyone who possesses this flower is guaranteed to be reunited with their love in the next life. It will not come to pass like in the tale of Manju and Saka.”

“How can he guarantee that?”

“I asked the same thing,” Hoseok said while laughing. He closed the box. “But we will just have to see when we are reborn again, hm?” He stroked her cheek with his fingers. “I want to love you again in our next life, Ehri-ah.”

Hoseok cried out, gulping a lungful of air as the sheets clung to his upper body like a second skin. Bolting upright, he stared wide-eyed at the space just below his wall clock. The ticking of the second hand sounded like muffled gunshots in his ears. His breath came in heavy, short intervals and it took him a moment to actually calm down.

Groping in the dark for his phone, he barely managed to snatch it off the nightstand. The screen instantly lit up to show the time in blinding white numbers.

4:37AM.

Everything felt like a dream. Or, rather, like he was dreaming while still awake. When Hoseok was asleep, he didn’t feel like he was actually sleeping. Instead of dreams, his mind was filled with memories in colors so vibrant they were nearly blinding. His world, the world he’d always known, felt so faded and seemingly colorless in comparison. This was a life; his life. His old cycle that was now blossoming with life and fervor, threatening to burst clear from his body and soar to the skies.

Hugging his chest, he leaned forward and shuddered. A cold sweat peppered across his back and neck, dripping from his nose. His hands felt clammy and cold, no matter how much he rubbed his arms up and down to soothe the overwhelming sensation wrapping around him. 

He needed to get up. He needed to move. His body would lock up and go into shock if he didn’t. 

Stumbling from his bed, Hoseok felt the sheets wrapping around his ankles. He collapsed in a heap on the floor, his breathing escalating as he tried to sit back up. A spike of pain struck at the forefront of his mind, causing him to cry out. Fluttering petals swirled around the bedroom as a ray of morning light seemed to spread in a cone through the large bay windows.

“Seobang-nim?”

Hoseok hummed.“Yes, what is it, Pu-in?”

She smiled, closing her eyes. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Everything.” Ehri gripped her fingers a little tighter around his. “Thank you for everything.”

Hoseok moved, causing Ehri to lift her head up so she had to look at him. While one hand held hers, his other rested along her neck. “Pu-in…”

“I love you,” she whispered to him, leaning forward to press her lips against his.

White heat burned his eyes, causing him to cover them with both hands. He screamed, the painful throb beating mercilessly against his temples. All he could do was curl up into a ball, writhing in agony as the images continued to flash in rapid succession like a camera shutter. 

Laughter.

So much laughter.

Worry.

Hope.

Determination.

Resignation.

Overwhelming despair.

Rolling over onto his side, he clutched the letter in his hands as his tears soaked into his silk pillow. “No,” he whispered, his voice barely recognizable, “I don’t want to be here to see it alone. I don’t want to see it march on without you here with me.”

And then, the proverbial dam inside of him broke. Everything surged into him all at once. Every single memory of the past pulsed through him. He remembered everything. 

His life as a member of the royal household’s branch family. 

His parents. 

His brothers. 

The street market vendor who sold him the spider lily forged in metal.

"I find it hard to believe that you don't," teased the vendor, which caused Hoseok to cant his head slightly, "but let's just say that this flower isn't an ordinary spider lily. The one who forged this flower said that the tragedy still exists inside, just as the legend dictates. But unlike Manju and Saka, the one who holds this flower will be able to reunite with their loved one in the next life. Guaranteed."

And the moment he first laid eyes on Bayaraa Ehri, the woman he loved.

The woman he would continue to love even into their next life.

Sobbing into his hands was all he could do at that moment. In the midst of his pain, he was experiencing everything simultaneously. It was sensory overload at its finest.

And then there was absolute quiet.

Still. Quiet. Clarity.

Jung Hoseok and Wang Hoseok were now truly one.

Clambering to his feet, he quickly made his way to the bathroom. He showered, brushed his teeth, and got dressed. Faded jeans and a gray hoodie comprised his attire, but he wasn’t trying to impress anyone. As he left his apartment, the security lock beeping as the door closed, he beelined for the elevator. He was already dialing for a cab before the lift dinged to signify he was on the ground floor. The driver greeted him warmly, despite the late hour, and Hoseok did his best to remain polite. But desperation nearly superseded his need to be amicable. 

He gave the driver the address to Erica’s hotel and as they made the drive, he called her. Her sleepy voice answered and Hoseok felt like he’d grown wings. Erica’s voice, to him, sounded like Ehri’s. And Ehri’s voice was now Erica’s. He finally understood what she meant when she said she’d been afraid too.

It must have been like this for her. It must have been like this for her for a long time. 

“Erica, it’s me.”

“Hoseok-ssi?” He could hear shuffling on the other line. “Is everything alright? Are you hurt?”

He smiled, unable to keep his joy hidden. “I’m almost at your hotel. Can you meet me in the lobby?”

“Uh, sure. Let me get dressed…”

They said their goodbyes just as the cab driver announced they would be arriving shortly. He quickly paid the man, dashing toward the front entrance of the hotel. The sliding glass doors barely had time to open as Hoseok squeezed his way through them. The elevator dinged and the doors parted to reveal Erica dressed in a large sweatshirt and leggings. She was barely able to open her mouth and say his name before he pushed into the elevator, knocking her back against the wall. His lips immediately sealed over her own and she gasped, reaching up to grip at his shoulders while steadying both of them at the same time.

He broke the kiss, allowing them to breathe, and he couldn’t help but admire the pink tinge settling along her olive skin. She huffed, her chest pressed against his. He was having a difficult time discerning whose heart was beating the hardest.

“H-Hoseok,” Erica managed to say, her brows lifted in surprised, “what’s the matter?”

“I remember it all.” Hoseok watched her eyes widen even further and he leaned forward to press his forehead against hers. “I remember everything .” She moved to cover her mouth with her hand, but he grabbed it, keeping it away from her lips. He wanted to kiss her again. He wanted to breathe in her scent; her very soul into his being. “I’m me. I’m the me of today and yesterday.”

Hoseok watched her bottom lip quiver as tears filled her eyes. “E-Everything?”

He nodded. “Everything.” 

They both inhaled sharply, their lips seeking eachother out. He could feel her body trembling as he held her tightly against her, not caring that he was shedding tears himself. And as their lips parted once more, he leaned down so their noses were barely touching - the swell of her mouth still so close to his own. 

“Wang Hoseok missed her desperately,” he whispered against her lips, “and Jung Hoseok needs you desperately.”

He could see the trepidation visibly fleeing from her gaze. It must have been the one thing that she was still fearful over; the one thing that she didn’t want to give a voice to. Because he was afraid for the same reason. 

If one spirit had more power over the other, would the other cease to exist?

But he could sense it. His consciousness and the consciousness of his old self were nestled side by side. They were choosing to coexist in this moment and for every moment that would transpire after. Half of his heart longed for Bayaraa Ehri and the other half was pulled in Erica Bronwyn’s direction. Two halves of a whole begging to be acknowledged and listened to.

Again, Hoseok kissed her full lips; drank in her very being. She didn’t have the same face as Ehri, but her soul was there - standing alongside the woman who lived in this life.

The life of Erica Bronwyn.

“You’ve dealt with this longer than I have.” He smiled against her mouth. “I’m afraid that I’ll have to request your assistance on the matter.”

Erica pulled back a measure and he took a moment to sweep his hands over her tear-stained cheeks. She did the same for him. “That’s fine,” she whispered, shifting forward so he was forced to move in the opposite direction with his back pressed against the wall. Her hand reached over to the different buttons on the elevator’s panel and she hit the one for her floor. The lift shook and then moved upward. “There’s no rush.”

Hoseok smiled openly and she, in turn, smiled as well. They were still themselves. But they were also two people pulling the past behind them. With Ehri’s illness came a sense of despair that was often smothered with the hope that a miracle would transpire. But when the end came, it was swift and merciless. Their time was short, but their love was magnanimous. Everything felt rushed, just like the manner in which he’d regained the memories of his old life.

There was no sense of urgency present. Erica and Hoseok could both take their time as pieces of their souls found solace in reuniting again. They had the opportunity to love and fall in love all over again.

The true miracle was now. 

He pulled her close, nestling his face into the crook of her neck as she wrapped her arms around his. Again, he drank in her scent, pressing a hand against the back of her head - his palm resting along the thick nest of curls. For a small eternity, Hoseok held her in his arms. And seconds before the elevator dinged for the appropriate floor, he lifted his head back only to turn his face to meet Erica’s lips again, savoring the taste of her as if for the very first time. The steady drum of their hearts beat in time with one another.

Now that we have the time...

Angel Eyes: Sugar and Spice

❀ Summary ❀ ─ You see matches made by fate, and you’ve never been wrong in all the years of your life. So really, when you’re asked to double check a reading, it feels like being asked to check if water is wet.

❀ Pairing(s) ❀ ─ Hoseok x reader

❀ Rating ❀ ─ T

❀ Genre(s) ❀ ─ Fluff, light angst, I high key think MC makes this fic a comedy, soulmate AU, strangers to lovers AU

❀ Disclaimers ❀ ─ Mentions of assault, pepper spray, swear words

❀ Word Count ❀ ─ 3.9k

❀ A/N ❀ ─ This fic has been in my drafts for months and if I make another edit I might cry. I am open to feedback (or offers to beta read)! Thank you 🌸

The man that sits in front of you moistens his lips again, looking like he might burst as he waits for your reading. You pay no mind to his fidgeting – it’s a common trait customers display in your line of work.

“Congratulations, sir,” you beam. “It’s a match.”

His eyes widen, before blinking repeatedly as if he can’t quite believe what you said. It’s kind of endearing, honestly, watching the man who must at least be in his forties stare at you like a schoolboy. 

“A-are you sure?” he stammers.

“Absolutely. Your soulmate looks exactly like the woman you showed me on your phone,” you assure. “You met her through work, but it looks like the two of you were at loggerheads in the beginning.”

“Why – yes-”

“And you got close when you drove her to pick up a boy, I’m guessing her son, up from school when he was sent home sick.”

“That’s true,” he says, and you see his eyes widen in a look you’ve seen countless times.

“I see flashes of a wedding somewhere with high ceilings, like a church. I see a house with 2 storeys and a huge green door. I see waffles for brunch at a small cafe. And I see you with her and that boy in all of them. Sir, it’s a match.”

“Oh,” he sniffles, and the tissue you offer is taken swiftly as he begins to sob. “Thank you, Miss. This is exactly what I hoped to hear.”

“It’s a pleasure,” you reply sweetly. “All in a day’s work of a matchmaker.”

Your eyes are aching again, a tell tale sign that you took on too much. But the comforting aroma of take-out wafts temptingly, and you feel yourself loosen as you walk through the door. “Yeseo, I’m home!” you sing.

Yeseo appears from her room, already in sweatpants and towel-wrapped hair. “Finally, I almost started the show without you. What took you so long?” 

If you didn’t know Yeseo so well, you would have thought she was angry. But you’ve realised Yeseo’s just a fluff ball with a no-nonsense exterior, and also the platonic love of your life.

“Yeseo!” you repeat joyously. “Sorry for being late. My last client made me retake the reading. I tried to tell her it wouldn’t change, but she insisted anyway.”

“Mm… and how many of these have you gotten this week?” Microwavable bowls are summoned to the table with a flick of her wrist, and she begins transferring the food whilst addressing you.

You sigh audibly. “Maybe five?”

You understand their disappointment and uncertainty when the results are not what they look for - you really do. It’s just hard when they refuse to accept your reading because really, you’re just the messenger. You see matches made by fate, and you’ve never been wrong in all the years of your life. So really, when you’re asked to double check a reading, it feels like being asked to check if water is wet.

Yeseo huffs, before squeezing your shoulders in the way she does to comfort you. “You know they’re idiots, right?”

“No they aren’t,” you protest. You move to open the microwave so that Yeseo can send your dinners flying into it. “It just feels bad when I can’t give them what they want, you know? Happy endings are why I do this in the first place.”

“Yes, and that’s why I’ll never want to know about my match,” Yeseo says. “Watch your head.” As the microwave begins to whir, she turns on the kettle with a flick of her finger. “Love is messy, no? Seems a lot better to let it run its course.”

“It is. But you know that’s why I try to help. Did you know? I had a man burst into tears after I confirmed his match today. His wife passed and he wanted assurance that it was okay to love her. And now they will have waffles for brunch and watch their son’s football practice, and they’ll go on walks in the park…”

“Okay, you’re making that face again,” Yeseo says, snapping you out of it. The warm memory of your visions has you smiling, a little more comforted. “Anyway, I stopped by the store to pick up some of that honey you ran out of.”

You squeal, putting your arms around her. “Oh, what would I do without you, you absolute treasure?”

“It’s just honey,” she scoffs, but her lips upturn anyway. “Get the food out of the microwave, I’ll turn on the TV.”

Some say you can fall in love at first sight, while others say it takes years for true love to be gained. 

You estimate that it takes three seconds for you to determine a person’s soulmate(s). It usually starts with the silhouette of a body, a glimpse of their face… as more eye contact is made, scenes of first meetings and happily-ever-afters begin to flicker through. While your powers are nowhere as revered as Yeseo’s telekinesis, it is well sought after and you’ve come to appreciate the joy it can bring. 

The familiar bell tinkles as you open the door to The Magic Shop – a cafe that sits in the middle of the bustling street. With wisterias that hang from the ceiling, and the fairy lights just close enough to touch, walking in feels like you’ve entered an enchanted forest. Vintage fairytale illustrations adorn the walls haphazardly, with fluorescent lights that shout, “Have your cake and eat it too!” 

What has given the cafe its name, however, is its owner’s almost magical pastries. Apart from their heavenly taste, Jin’s abilities allow him to evoke certain emotions for a period of time through food. (You are impartial to his Dearly Loved Strawberry Shortcake, which you can only describe as the feeling of being wrapped in a strawberry scented blanket and given forehead kisses). He takes the phrase ‘made with love’ to a whole new level, and you’ve witnessed more than a few customers step out with a dazed look in their eyes. 

“Good morning, Jin,” you sing, and he looks up. Clad in a ‘Don’t go baking my heart’ apron, he wipes down the counters while nodding at you.

“Good morning, Miss Matchmaker,” he greets pleasantly, “Glad to see you’re not late again.”

Hey! For all the good vibes he puts out on a daily basis, Jin sure can be petty. Your lower lip juts out in defence as you put down your bag. “That was two weeks ago, boss, and you know I had a good reason.” 

“I don’t think stopping to feed stray cats counts as a good reason,” your fellow employee Jungkook cuts in, broom in hand as he sweeps under the tables. 

“It followed me and was meowing so pitifully! Would you not have done the same?” You argue. You know that Jungkook has a soft heart, regardless of his jab. Many a time he has gifted Warm Hug Brownies or Pick Me Up Coffee Cakes to customers with downcast expressions.

The three of you settle into comfortable banter as you help to ready the shop, displaying pastries along the glass cabinets. When the front of the cafe is ready, you turn on the fairy lights lined across your matchmaking booth at the corner. You and Jin have established a comfortable collaboration where you provide matchmaking services when booked, but assist him in running the shop otherwise. It provides practice for when you (hopefully) set up an independent shop, and draws in customers to the cafe.

“Will it be a busy day for you?” Jungkook inquires, flipping the ‘Closed’ sign to display ‘Open’ instead. 

“Not many appointments booked today, but I have to help Jin with the tartlets anyway,” you reply, looking at the small crowd of people that have begun to amble the street. “Say, you won’t believe a match I made yesterday,” you say, eyes lighting up. Jungkook leans in, an avid listener to your never-ending romances. 

The day goes by smoothly, with you helping a very high-strung Jin who insists the tartlets need to look just so. (You offer him a Calming Earl Grey Chiffon more than once, much to his offence.) You’re in the midst of storing the tartlets in the fridge when the lanky man arrives, closing the door with a bang. “I’m looking for the matchmaker,” he demands.

“That would be me,” you smile, taking off your apron. You wave him over welcomingly, despite his steely expression. “Are you looking for a blind reading?” 

“I’m looking for my girlfriend. She ran out on me last week and I’ve yet to track down the bitch.” 

Your smile falls. You’ve met all sorts of people in this line, but these types - the ones who are vengeful, angry or bitter - rarely leave appeased.

“I have to let you know that I can’t control what I see, or predict when things will happen. I can only let you know who I see as your match, and possible events involving them.”

“What - and you’re charging this much?”

“I-I’m afraid so.”

He scoffs. “Well, you’ll see her so just tell me what you see.” 

Something in you already knows what is going to happen next, but like the pushover you are, you summon a feeble smile. “Let’s get started, then.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologise sincerely, having to convey news which you know the man does not want to hear. “She’s not your match. I see another woman, one with dark hair. I could do a quick sketch if it’d be of any-”

‘Liar,” he interrupts, chest beginning to heave, ‘She is the love of my life. She is mine. And I hired a stupid matchmaker like you to help, not to tell me otherwise.’

‘I can’t tell you how sorry I am that I have to provide you with this news,’ you say, voice shaking just a little. ‘I don’t have control over what I see, and I’m sure that there must have been reasons that it didn’t work out.”

The man stands up abruptly, causing you to startle and move two steps back. “Lies! You’re nothing but a liar and a fraud!” he seethes. Both of his fists are clenched tightly as he moves towards you, and you look frantically towards the main counter for help.

“Who are you to say she is meant for another? Who are you to say we aren’t matched by the fates? You’re nothing but a fraud,” he hurls. And oh, it hurts. Because you’ve heard it over and over again, but it still feels like a knife in your chest every time your genuine attempts to help end in this manner.

How many broken hearts have you seen in your lifetime? How many loves have you seen end in disaster? You don’t want things to end up this way either.

You barely register the hands that grip you firmly, guiding you to stand behind them. “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Our matchmaker gives only her honest readings, and it won’t change just because you threatened her. If you would please,” he gestures towards the door firmly, and despite his polite words his glare is anything but.

You look up from your tears to see the back of Jungkook’s pink apron, shielding you from the man. 

There is heavy breathing before the man speaks. “You’re going to regret this,” he hisses, and you feel the burn of his stare even from behind Jungkook. Your shoulder is shoved as he rushes past, the door swinging shut with a jingle that is all too juxtaposing. 

You dimly register the aftermath of the encounter - a terse silence and blurry faces staring from their cups of coffee.

Jin clears his throat. “Hello everyone, I’m so sorry for the disturbance caused! If anyone needs a bit of a soother, I can offer our Calming Earl Grey on the house. Of course, I’m sure my dashing good looks could also charm you out of your distress?” he says, raising his eyebrows exaggeratedly. The crowd chuckles good-naturedly, before slowly returning to their conversations.

Jin joins the both of you, with you still trembling like a leaf in the wake of it all. “Are you okay? Did he touch you?” he asks, looking over you in concern.

You blink away the tears in your eyes, rubbing at your cheeks furiously.

“I’m okay,” you mumble, forcing your lips into a smile. It’s your fault for causing this mess - crying like a baby will only make you more of a burden. 

“Hey, why don’t you take a break? You don’t have other appointments, and I can manage the store with Jungkook,” Jin offers. 

Your throat wells up with feelings that have no place to go. “No, no, I’m fine,” you insist, looking anywhere except their eyes. “I’ll go help out with the dishes, okay?”

It feels like a weight off your shoulders when you finally get off work. Jin and Jungkook had walked on eggshells around you after the incident, and you couldn’t do anything but smile to try and prevent their pitiful glances. 

This was all your fault. Why couldn’t you be of better help? Why did you have to be a burden?

No, you refuse to be a burden. Your thoughts shift to Yeseo, who has been rushing a deadline for her studies. She probably hasn’t eaten, has she? While you know nothing about engineering, you do know how to make a mean kimchi fried rice. 

You won’t be useless.

In your state of half-consciousness, you barely notice the people you pass, swerving past instinctively. It’s too bad that you don’t realise the familiar figure until it’s too late.

What happens next is a blur. You only remember the kick that sends your knees to the ground, and the sound of a spray can before your eyes begin to sting.

“Stupid bitch,” the voice barks, and there’s nothing you can do but cry out when you feel the next kick to your stomach. “With such a useless gift, you’re better off blind.”

Useless.

You don’t know how long you are there, rubbing at your burning eyelids before there is a tap at your shoulders. You flinch instinctively before the concern in his voice reaches your ears.

“Hey, hey – what happened?” 

You gasp, forcing the words out. “It hurts.”

“Where does it hurt?”

The kick felt like nothing compared to the state of your eyes. “Eyes – burn. Water.”

“Pepper spray? Hold on, I have water with me.” You hear fumbling as a zipper is opened, you hear the bottle opened hurriedly. “I’m going to lift you up,” he says, and you feel yourself being pulled to rest against something soft. “Look up for me, won’t you?” 

Firm fingers tilt your chin upwards, and you sigh in temporary relief when cool water dribbles down your face. Unfortunately, the water doesn’t do much else, and you rub at your eyes instinctively. “No, don’t rub,” the voice objects, and two hands pull your wrist downwards.

“It hurts!” you whine in protest, trying to push him away. But the person is obviously much stronger and holds both your hands with ease. You squeeze his hands tightly, unable to control yourself in your agony. 

“I know – hey, hey – I’ll pour some on my towel for you, just hold on,” he says. You hear more fumbling before a wet cloth is pressed against your eyelids, and your head is held up again as he attempts to wipe your eyes. It helps, but just barely.

“Better?” he asks, and you lift your shoulders frustratedly. 

“It hurts.” You repeat. The pain is all you can think about. 

“And your knees are scraped too,” the voice mutters, and there is a silence before he makes a decision. “There’s a convenience store not far from here. I’ll get more water for you.”

“No!” you cry, the panic evident in your voice. “I don’t know if he’s still there, I’m so sorry I just - ” 

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to leave you,” the voice shushes, and he holds onto your hands ever more firmly. “But I’ll need you to walk with me if you can, so try your best to hold on, okay?”

That is how the kind stranger winds up leading you to the convenience store, flushing out your eyes by the pavement. By the time the bottle is empty, the pain seems to have subsided enough for you to hold a conversation. You let go of his hands, feeling conscious enough to be embarrassed.

“I can’t begin to tell you how grateful I am,” you mumble, the towel he gave still pressed against your eyes. “I’m so sorry to have been a bother, you must have been on your way home.” 

“Don’t worry about it. Does it still hurt?”

“I’m much better now, thank you.”

“If it still hurts, we can get more water, you know. Or we could get soap to wash it out.”

“No, no, I’ll be fine.”

Was the attacker someone you knew?” 

You fiddle with the towel, wondering if you should lie. “Well...You could say that. He was a client.” You finally admit. 

“Do you want me to call the police? You should make a report.”

“No!”

“Why not?”

“Be-because he had a reason to.”

The stranger refutes, anger clear in his voice. “There is no reason that could possibly warrant assault.” And you don’t know how to answer that, so you lie through your teeth.

“I’ll get to it…just not right now. I can barely see, as it is.”

The silence he responds with makes you wonder if you didn’t do a good job.

“If I may, could I ask what was his reason?”

What can you say without sounding more stupid than you already look? I couldn’t find his soulmate. And I know it doesn’t make sense, but I think it’s my fault because I couldn’t do my job and make him happy. It’s such a stupid reason that you find yourself stalling.

“Maybe…I have X-ray vision.”

“That’s a lie,” he huffs - and you grin at his admission.

“Well…maybe I work in the mafia.” 

Hoseok raises his brow. “I highly doubt the mafia would hire someone with so many strawberries in their hair.”

“Why, because it’s cute?”

“No, because you’d be too conspicuous.”

You giggle despite the tears you wipe from your eyes. “Oh, you’re no fun. Why don’t you play along?”

The stranger scoffs, but you can hear the amusement in his voice. “You’ll have to forgive me for being dull.”

“Dull you may be, but you're a kind soul nonetheless,” you concede, expression lighter than before. “I don’t know how I’ll make it up to you. Maybe you can come to my place for dinner some time. Let me know what you’d like me to cook? Or I also know a place that sells great pastries, I’d be happy to treat you…Oh!” you gasp, groping blindly around you. 

“What? What is it?” he matches your frantic tone, before realising that you’re looking for your bag. You fumble for your lunchbox before presenting it to him proudly.  “These are tarts from the place I work, please have them!” 

“Oh,” the stranger answers, and he is clearly taken aback. 

“Really - my boss puts these positive feelings into them which can really perk you up for a bit. You won’t regret trying them, I swear.”

“Uh- thank you. But you don’t even know me, how am I going to return it to you -”

“I know you’re a kind soul. You can have the lunchbox!” you say, and shoot him the brightest smile you can muster in your pain.

“You should probably head home; thank you so much for your help!”

“I’m concerned about how you’re going to get home. You didn’t even let me flush out your wounds. Is there anyone that can help you home?”

Your expression falls at the thought of Yeseo, probably still busy with her deadline. “I’ll call my roommate, don’t worry!”

Under the bright lights, you can just about make out the silhouette of a grey jumper over a sleek figure and angular face. But his eyes look at you so intensely that you can feel you can see it even half-blind. 

“You don’t have to lie, you know. I’ll call you a cab or walk with you if it’s not far away.”

“Why would I? I’m much better now, really!”

“I’ve seen 4-year-olds lie better than you.”

“I- I’m not lying.”

The strangers sighs deeply. “Well then, how many fingers am I holding up?” He tests. “If you answer wrongly, I’m taking you home.”

Your bleary eyes attempt to open and make out his figure. You don’t realise that he didn’t even bother holding out his hand. “Um, two?”

“Cute.” he deadpans. “Now, where to?”

While your vision is still blurry, it doesn’t take sight to feel Yeseo’s panicked energy when she opens the door. “I called you a million times, what happened?” she bristles. It is then her voice changes, presumably as she registers the presence of another person. “Who are you?”

Your stranger answers stiffly. “My apologies for intruding. Your friend was pepper sprayed and scraped her knees. She still can’t see very well so I walked her home. I’ve given her water to flush her eyes, but it’d probably be good to continue until her vision returns. Soap would help too.”

The grip she has on your arm tightens. “Thank you for your help.” The rustle of a bag is heard (probably your bag which he insisted on helping you carry) and you muster up a grateful look in his direction. You don’t know what he looks like, but you’ve long regarded him as a friend already. “Thank you, I don’t know how I’ll make it up to you - maybe I could whip up some fried rice anyway -”

“You won’t be doing any cooking, not in this state,” Yeseo snaps, pulling your arm to lean against her. “Thank you again. Let me know if you ever need something,” she says, and you hear his acknowledgement before the door clicks. 

You cringe as she bellows your full name. “What happened?” she reprimands, and you cringe whilst she does nothing short of drag you to the kitchen sink.

“Water, please it actually still burns kinda bad,” you say. You hear water trickling as Yeseo adjusts the tap, and as your head is guided to rest under it you can hear her seething. It is when you can see clearly, and she has bandaged your knees that she begins.

“What. The fuck. Happened. And why didn’t you call me?”

You are a ball of sunshine (as always). “I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to worry and I could barely see anything anyway. I couldn’t even see my phone!”

“And so you didn’t even think of asking your new friend to help call me?”

“I - you were rushing an assignment so I didn’t want to bother you. Did you submit it in time? I’m hope I’m not - ”

Water is flicked onto you abruptly, and you splutter. “If you’re telling me you felt sorry to bother me in a life threatening situation, I’m about to make you feel very sorry,” she glowers. “Tell me what happened, tell me,” she demands, before pulling you into a tight hug.

You try your best to keep up your smile - you really do. But you think about the fury in the man’s eyes as he called you useless, and the pitying look on Jin and Jungkook. You think about how you couldn’t cook for Yeseo like you promised, and even bothered that stranger to bring you home. 

How could you be so, so useless?

You suppose it confirms it when you burst into tears.

The story that's on my mind the most 🙈😍❤️

THE SOLSTICE COVEN

Freedom is a peculiar thing.

To earn it, someone else must lose it.

It should be bad, regretful, but what if both parties had to gain from that arrangement?

And what if their future was forever changed thanks to what was a blind step in a world of uncertainties?

CHAPTERS: 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , ...

Preview

BTS (CENTRIC CAREGIVER! YOONGI) X WHEELCHAIR USER! READER

MAGIC/SOULMATES AU

M/F , MULTI

RATED M

*the mc's disability is written with the utmost respect, and so if anything comes across as wrong without any purpose for it, if some terms need to be changed for lack of knowledge despite my research, then by all means, please let me know, but respectfully!*

Find my masterlist here