#307: A Lack of Colour

[lordchen]

Prompt claimed: #307
Title: A Lack of Colour
Pairing: Chen/Sehun, with minor Chen/Lay, Chen/Chanyeol, Baekhyun/Kyungsoo, Kyungsoo/Chanyeol
Rating: PG-13 to R
Warnings: Hinted side polyamory, minor character death (not involving an EXO member)
Word count: 13000
Summary: The thing about finding your soulmate is that nobody actually told Jongdae that sometimes, hair colours can be a little deceiving. How do you know if they’re the right one?




There’s a stray red sock in the corridor. Jongdae picks it up, nearly tossing in the hamper in the adjoining laundry room until he notices the little ‘S’ stitched on the bottom. He smiles to himself, and lets it fall back onto the floor instead. He was always the worst at laundry.

The flat feels a little lonely, just him and some sock. Even Jongin refuses to talk to him. He hasn’t been this angry with Jongdae since they were kids and Jongdae had eaten an extra chicken wing that was supposed to be his just because he felt like it. Taemin had taken pity on him, and used Jongin’s phone while he was asleep to let him know that Jongin’s over at his place. No one told him much else.

The phone rings then, cutting into his thoughts. His hand hovers over it, but he hesitates, and allows it go to speaker.

“Hey, Jongdae,” comes Minseok’s tinny voice. A pause, and then a sigh. “I know you’re there. Baekhyun misses you.”

Jongdae huffs a soft laugh, and picks up the phone. “Baek’s needy.”

“I’m not disagreeing, Baek’s always needy,” says Minseok. He hears Baekhyun’s muffled sound of protest in the background. “He misses you too, you know.”

“You already said that.”

“No, I’m not talking about Baekhyun. I bumped into him earlier.”

“Oh.” Him. Jongdae runs his fingers through his hair. His gaze falls on the red sock lying on the floor again, as he worries his bottom lip between his teeth.

Minseok sighs once more. “Come on, Jongdae. Stop hiding.”







Three years ago, Jongdae spent the last two hours before his 21st birthday pretending to himself that he wasn’t waiting for anything. He tapped the pen against his desk in anticipation, went to Jongin’s room to check on him (he wasn’t even there, he’d somehow fallen asleep in the living room after dance practice; Jongdae fetched a blanket to cover Jongin’s sleeping form with it, and gently ruffled his soft hair), returned to his own room to bounce an old baseball toy against the wall, then rushed to the mirror as soon as the screen showed 00:00:00. Still black. His shoulders slumped.

He remained wide awake the entire remainder of the night, and showed up at the hair salon the next morning in jitters.

“A little excited huh?” asked Minseok. He’s seated next to Jongdae, witnessing him make the second biggest mistake of his life.

“Shut up.” Jongdae waved a hand that wasn’t already busy typing a reply to Jongin’s text without looking up. “My soulmate’s out there with the same boring black hair,” he said. “I have to dye my hair right now and find her. And then pick Jongin up later. You’re going to drive me there by the way.”

“Because dyeing your hair green is a classic demonstration of commitment and love?”

Jongdae shrugged, breezily replied, “It’s only parts of my hair.”

“And that makes it better.”

“Don't judge me,” Jongdae whined. He schooled his face into one of nonchalance, and fiddled with the hem of his t-shirt. “Liyin would probably look good in any colour anyway.”

Minseok bit the inside of his cheek. Of course Jongdae would bring up Zhang Liyin, the TA that he’d been mooning over the past semester. But it didn’t escape Jongdae’s notice that Minseok’s trying not to laugh at him, so he pouted and folded his arms underneath his gown.

“Sorry, I can't help it,” said Minseok. To his credit, he did look mildly apologetic. “You're too cute. Who knows, maybe my hair will change colour just like yours and you can be my wife like I always tell everyone. We can make it Facebook official.”

“First of all,” Jongdae unfolded his arms to poke at Minseok’s side; Minseok expertly dodged his finger. “I can’t be anyone’s wife. Second, I’m already officially twenty one and my hair isn't already light brown like yours. And third, I’m going to riot if really does turn out to be you of all people.”

“I’d be the best soulmate.”

Jongdae rolled his eyes, but sighed. “Okay. True. You’d make a great soulmate. But it’s her… I can feel it. She’s the one.”

“Mmhm,” Minseok hummed agreeably. “The one.”

“You know what,” said Jongdae. Minseok was busy shaking out a particularly stubborn mint from its packaging, but distractedly hummed again in response anyway. “Fine. Judge me. Be that way. At least I’m being proactive and looking for them, unlike you. With that common shade of brown.”

A clattering noise behind them made Jongdae glance into the mirror just as a boy hastily kneeled down, while another apologised to one of the staff. The first boy swept his fringe out of his eyes, and caught Jongdae looking at him in the mirror. His distinct eyebrows and piercing look seemed vaguely familiar somehow. Instinctively, Jongdae smiled at him.

“Actually, I never dyed my hair,” Minseok admitted.

“What?” Jongdae’s eyes shot back up at Minseok. “So it just turned lighter on its own? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I told Jongin.”

“You told my brother, but you didn’t tell me?”

“I was going to,” said Minseok, and popped the finally freed mint into his mouth. “Anyway, like you said, it’s a common shade of brown. I’ll find them when I find them. Meanwhile I’ll pray for your hair.”

Jongdae groaned, burying his face into his hands. “Is it too late to back out?”

“It’s not,” the hairstylist piped up. Jongdae vaguely registered the disappearance of the boy from earlier, but put him out of his mind to balk at the hairstylist’s next words. “But you gotta pay extra for the bleaching process, green hair dye and black hair dye.”




Jongdae didn’t pay extra. Instead, he held his head high while Kyungsoo’s chortled and picked at the green strands. And Zhang Liyin did turn up on campus with a new hair colour, but it’s nowhere green. So he nursed his broken heart by helping himself to Kyungsoo’s fries. The latter snorted, and yet nudged the plate closer to Jongdae, who nuzzled into Kyungsoo’s side and dubbed him the bestest friend ever.

“You’re being so unnecessarily dramatic,” Kyungsoo muttered.

“Wait till your turn,” said Jongdae mulishly.

“We’re practically the same age. You don't hear me whining.”

Jongdae made another noise that sounded suspiciously close to a whine, and stole another fry. “Let me live, okay?”

Liyin passed by their table right then, waving at Jongdae as she joined her own circle of friends. Jongdae returned it, a strained smile on his face, then groaned as soon as she was out of earshot. “Her face looked off when she looked at my hair. Maybe she’s just as disappointed as I am.”

“You’re delusional,” said Kyungsoo. “Everyone looks at your dumb green hair like that. It’s green.”

“Always so cruel,” Jongdae lamented, reaching for another fry.

“Yeah, yeah. Just take the whole thing.”

“Why aren’t you my soulmate, huh, Kyungsoo?” Jongdae clutched onto Kyungsoo’s arm. “I could have all of the fries I want for the rest of my life. I would never lack anything. I would have a good-looking soulmate and I would be fry-rich. Jongin already likes you.”

“Your ass is really lucky my hair isn’t fucking green.”

“But what do you think of blue, though?” asked Jongdae. “I’m thinking of dyeing my hair blue next. Think that’d look good? Blue roses are pretty romantic, aren’t they?”

“Which blue?”

“All of them. Like… different shades. A blue gradient.”

Kyungsoo stared at him. “You’re serious.”

“Of course I’m serious.” Jongdae sounded offended, as he stabbed at another fry with a fork. “My soulmate is still out there somewhere, and I’m on a very serious mission to find them.”

“You’re actually dead serious,” said Kyungsoo. He looked up as Minseok joined them at their table. “Is he serious about the hair?”

Minseok settled his tray next to Jongdae’s. “Yes, he is. Help me talk some sense into him, please.”

“Since when do you two even talk to each other this much?” Jongdae complained. His eyes widened even more when Jongin appeared next to him, panting slightly. “Jongin?? They got to you too? You dragged my kid brother into this?” Jongdae flicked Jongin’s ear, earning a yelp from him. “Don’t you have classes, Jongin?”

Minseok shrugged. “An intervention was needed. He tops that class anyway.”




Jongdae’s second attempt at soulmate hunting wasn’t really much of an attempt. Partly because he was banned from hair dyes, and partly because he knew somehow that Chanyeol wasn’t really his soulmate, probably because they almost never ventured beyond talking points such as ‘please touch me’ and ‘let me come.’

It got to a point where Minseok was willing to pay money so he’d never have to bear witness to Jongdae moaning for Chanyeol to grab the lube quick please through his bedroom walls ever again. Once was more than enough. Minseok should’ve saved their collective effort in staging an intervention for when Jongdae met Chanyeol.

“I’m surprised you’re going through with this.” Minseok grimaced when Jongdae put on a particularly offensive-looking hat. “You seemed hyper excited about finding The One. Chanyeol doesn’t have green hair last I checked. And didn’t you say you wanted someone with a nice smile?”

“Come on, Chanyeol has a nice smile,” said Jongdae. He threw a balled up tissue in Minseok’s face. “And also really fucking hot. He wasn’t 21 yet when we started anyway. Who cares. We’re just mucking around.”

Minseok shot him a look, then sighed. “At least you’re no longer taking it out on your scalp.”

“I’m really only letting it rest for a few months,” said Jongdae. “Google said it’ll be okay then. Meanwhile... I can’t say no to quality dick.”

“Okay, I highly doubt Chanyeol is letting you anywhere near any of his appendages while you’re wearing that… thing on your head.”

Jongdae glanced in Minseok’s direction as he smirked. “What I’m wearing isn’t going to matter when everything’s off and I’m busy bouncing on his dick.”

“You’re disgusting,” Minseok informed him.

“Whatever,” said Jongdae airily. “It was, and still is, a strategic, win-win arrangement. I get to nail a hot guy on the reg. If we did turn out to be soulmates, we would already be used to each other. Even if we don’t turn out to be soulmates, we both get better at sex, our respective future soulmates will be happy with our god level skills, everybody will be happy, the end.”

Minseok made a pained expression. “I don’t know if you’d call Chanyeol ‘hot’ but to each his own.”

“You know,” said Jongdae, pointing at Minseok aggressively. “You would’ve been perfectly fine with this situation if you don’t come snooping around my house all the time. No one was supposed to be at home at the time. Jongin had dance, mum was out shopping. And Chanyeol is sexy, leave him alone.”

“I left my laptop in your room,” Minseok hissed. “I had an assignment due the next day. If you didn’t want me snooping around, you shouldn’t have told me where you hide the spare key to your house or picked up your phone once in a while.”

“Oh yeah?” asked Jongdae, challenging. “Well, who leaves behind their laptops in other people's houses? Anyway it’s pretty hard to pick up the phone when you’re busy sucking – ”

Minseok clapped his hands over his ears.




Still, it was a bit disappointing to be later confronted with Chanyeol’s fiery red hair in front of the latter’s dorm. He headed home with nary another word to Chanyeol, and the worst case of blue balls ever, to seek solace in Jongin’s bedroom.

“Aren’t you supposed to be… doing whatever it is you do with Chanyeol?” asked Jongin. Jongdae could see Jongin redden just past the book obscuring half of his face. He’d accidentally overheard them fucking loudly too; at that point, very few people with unfortunate ties to either Jongdae or Chanyeol hadn’t. “This time over at his dorm or whatever bridge he came from instead of our house?”

“His hair turned red.” Jongdae pouted, and pointed to his jet-black hair before throwing himself on Jongin’s bed. “It was a bit of a mood-killer. And Chanyeol does not look like a bridge troll.” Jongdae looked away, deep in thought. “Well, maybe he kind of does now with his hair.”

Jongin lowered the book to eye at him. “Weren’t you guys just messing around?”

“Sure.” Jongdae pulled him down on his own bed and forced him to cuddle with him. He could still picture Chanyeol’s sheepish face when he opened the door with his red hair in his head, and Jongdae would like to have it erased from his memory forever. “But it’s still a mood-killer. The red reminded me of Ronald McDonald. Not very sexy.”

“And green is sexy?”

Jongdae elbowed him, then smiled smugly, satisfied by Jongin’s pained grunt. “You talk to Kyungsoo too much. I’m your hyung, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jongin rubbed his abused rib. “Whatever. You’re not upset, right?”

Jongdae’s glasses dug into one side of his face as he tried to look up at Jongin. “No. But. Anyway, his hair is like… that. Which really bums me the hell out because –”

“Stop, keep it G-rated, I can't–”

“Don't be such a baby.” Jongdae toed at Jongin’s calf. “How do you know what I was gonna say anyway?”

“Because I’m your brother and I know you’re disgusting?”

“Hey,” Jongdae protested. “That’s what Minseok said too. You’re supposed to be on my side.”

Jongin shoved him off. “It’s true though. You’re nasty. You fool everyone into believing you’re innocent but you’re just… ew. It must be dad’s brother’s fault, he’s gross too, remember what we accidentally found on his phone when we were kids? I skipped the gross gene.”

“I love you too,” said Jongdae, tapping Jongin on the nose, then draped his arm around Jongin again. “Quit the innocent act, little brother. Don’t think I don’t know what kind of shenanigans you get up to when you’re with Taemin. If dad only knew.”

Between Jongin and Jongdae, their genetic makeup really only shared a common denominator in their mother. Jongin’s dad wasn’t Jongdae’s biological father. But as far as they were concerned, they had the same father too, and no one else could tell them otherwise. Jongin snorted, and rested his head against Jongdae.

“Dad always loved to listen to you sing.” Jongin told him, nudging him gently.

“Jongin,” said Jongdae, warning. Jongin said nothing else in response.

His phone screen lit up between them; Jongin groaned at the sight of Chanyeol’s name on display, and Jongdae lightly elbowed his side with a laugh.

“Chanyeol wants me to send him a dick pic,” Jongdae announced.

“Why would you tell me that?” Jongin whined, closing his eyes. “I really, really didn’t need to know.”

Jongdae ignored Jongin while browsing his phone. “Done.”

“Don’t tell me you have pictures of your own dick in your phone gallery.” Jongin pressed his fingertips against his eyelids. “Then again I would rather that than you taking a picture of it while you’re in my room, on my bed -”

“Shut up, you big baby,” Jongdae interjected. “How did I even have time to get hard on your bed? With you around? Who sends a picture of their flaccid dick? Anyway. I sent Chanyeol a picture of his own face.”

“Oh my god.” Jongin wheezed. “Savage.”

“Chanyeol and I already had sex on this bed anyway.”

Jongin stopped laughing, as Jongdae snickered. “I guess this means I don’t really have to ask if you’re okay.”

Jongdae rolled back onto Jongin’s shoulder. “Yeah. Don’t worry about it, baby brother. I mean, I sort of knew somehow we weren’t going to be a thing. We never really did anything beyond… amazing sex.” Jongdae’s eyes glazed over. “Which I’m really going to miss because –”

“Okay, really, can you not? I hope to god you’re not this bad with your real soulmate.”

“If I actually find them,” Jongdae groaned.




But the thing about looking for your soulmate is that nobody actually told Jongdae that hair colours aren’t always what they seem. He probably should’ve picked up on this when he met Baekhyun. Jongdae actually heard Baekhyun first before he even saw him. When he tells Minseok this later, the latter will laugh and tell him that they were probably meant to be.

They crashed into each other because Kyungsoo, quite literally, flung a screaming Baekhyun into him and murmured, “Jongdae, meet Baekhyun. You’re both loud, annoying and have the same black hair right now. Take Baekhyun off my hands and do your soulmate thing.”

“But black hair is our natural hair colour!” Jongdae protested at Kyungsoo’s retreating back.

“Really? Mine’s actually pink,” said Baekhyun. He smirked when Jongdae chuckled. “Who knows, maybe Kyungsoo might be right. Gorgeous man like him must be right every now and then. Jongdae, huh? What are the odds of you being the same Kim Jongdae that Chanyeol has been sexiling me through text for?”

Jongdae winced. “Guilty.”

“That’s okay.” Baekhyun adjusted his bag strap on his shoulder. “You just saved my life anyway so we’re even. I think Kyungsoo was this close to killing me. I don’t really know why, I’m an absolute joy to be around.”

Jongdae guffawed. “We’ve all had close calls. Kyungsoo is all bark and bite.”

“I like you already,” said Baekhyun, smiling. “You completely get me. Maybe you are my soulmate.”

“Did you have green hair from September to November?” asked Jongdae.

Baekhyun shook his head. “Ash brown.”

“Yeah, nah.”

“Aww.” Baekhyun pouted. “I wouldn’t be opposed to the idea of you as my soulmate.”

“Bet you say that to everyone you meet,” said Jongdae.

“Only the cute ones,” Baekhyun quipped, flicking his hair. His face then contorted. “But then again I don’t think I want green hair. Yeah, I take that back. Thank god you’re not my soulmate.”

“Why does everyone say that? There’s nothing wrong with green hair!”

“It’s not my colour.” Baekhyun smiled blithely. His expression brightened when he spotted someone walking past them.

“That boy is really cute,” he whispered to Jongdae. “He’s younger than us, but already taller. He doesn’t actually go here, but his step-brother does, so he comes looking for him sometimes when his brother has his shift. Look at that ass though. Damn.” Then as an afterthought, Baekhyun added, “His brother is pretty cute too. They don’t really look alike though.”

“How do you even know any of that?” Jongdae turned around to look, but could only catch a glimpse of his back.

Baekhyun wiggled his eyebrows. “I just do. I know everything.”

“Really?” asked Jongdae, skeptical. “What’s his name then?”

“Err… Shixun or something?”

“Chinese?”

“I guess so,” said Baekhyun, shrugging. “But anyway, you need to tell me your secret to surviving Do Kyungsoo’s wrath because he’s dreamy, and I know he’s not twenty one just yet so he might just be the one.”




And then Yixing happened. Jongdae found Yixing when Jongin forced Jongdae to tag along to see some hipster indie pop rock band with a pretentious name he didn’t really bother remembering. He stood beside Jongin in front of some merchandise stall, mind elsewhere.

“Do you remember Sehun?” Jongin nudged him with his shoulder.

“Who?” asked Jongdae, absent-mindedly.

“This kid who used to follow me all around in preschool until he moved to China,” said Jongin. “You met him before. He actually had a small crush on you after you picked me up from school that one time, but I pinky promised not to tell.”

“Always breaking promises,” said Jongdae.

“But anyway,” Jongin pressed on. “So I found him on some forum. I don’t know how he’s still the same even after all these years, but he looks exactly the same. Sounds exactly the same too. Well, probably not his voice, but like the way he expresses himself, kinda. He’s been back in the country for a few years now apparently. You listening to me?”

Jongdae grunted.

“Anyway. Sehun’s got a year ahead of him until he’s twenty one like me but he’s already planning his hair colours. Apparently he has a whole file dedicated to it.”

“Sounds like my type of fun.” Jongdae grinned, lopsided, while they moved up the queue.

They’re almost in front of the band until he heard an unfamiliar soft voice speak directly into his ear. “You don’t seem interested in where you are right now.”

He startled a little at the sound, ready to look up with a forced smile out of politeness, but ended up blinking at the guy in front of him, whose hair was the exact same shade of blond as his. Jongdae breathed out, staring wordlessly at him, and his blond hair. He’s fucking gorgeous. The guy dimpled at him, and Jongdae found himself melting. He confided in Jongdae his name, that he was filling in for the band’s sound tech team.

“Hello, Yixing,” Jongdae tried his name aloud, smiling when Yixing’s grin widened.




They began so spectacularly, everyone took it for granted that they’re it for each other. Baekhyun almost lit a hair dye bonfire in celebration until Kyungsoo yelled at him.

Yixing reignited Jongdae’s long buried love for music and singing. It’s like the fireworks at the end of the movies that Kyungsoo pretends not to appreciate. In bed, Yixing took the reins in ways that Jongdae didn’t expect to like, and slipped into whispers of Mandarin he didn’t understand that sent thrills along his skin. It had Jongdae scratching down Yixing’s back, silently begging for more.

Neither of them bothered changing their hair colours for a long time, perfectly content to be with each other. The apartment they rented together wasn't the most perfect of homes. The windows don't let in a lot of natural light, and their rooms were sparsely furnished. But it was meant to be temporary.

Yixing usually caged himself up in a little room he calls his studio most days. Jongdae almost never intruded on moments like these. Sometimes Yixing asked him to sing for him, but other times, he worked alone. That never bothered him; Jongdae usually used the time at home to unwind by himself, snapchatting Minseok, or trying to con Kyungsoo into spending time with him.

It wasn’t something that anyone would’ve guessed would ever go wrong.

Perhaps Jongdae should’ve taken it as a sign when Yixing dodged every question about the future by changing the subject by asking Jongdae about his day instead. Yixing softly kissed away his worries, holding Jongdae’s face like he’s trying to protect him from something he didn’t think he needed protection from.

At first, Jongdae readily fell into his arms, into them. But three months into their relationship later, Jongdae can’t help but feel like something was missing.

He found out what the problem was when he found five missed calls and fifty text messages after another exhausting day of interning, all from Yixing, except for one from Minseok. A photo of Yixing with silver hair stared right up at him from the screen. Silver. Jongdae’s hair wasn’t silver.

“Hey Jongdae, I want you to meet my brother,” said his manager Junmyeon, practically out of nowhere, interrupting his train of thought.

But Jongdae’s shift was over, and Yixing’s hair was silver. He distractedly waved at Junmyeon, and picked his bag up. “Sorry, gotta run.”

Somehow, they managed to last for another three months together, neither willing to part with each other even with the silver coloured elephant in the room. Yixing quietly dyed his hair black again just to match with Jongdae. But even then, when they’re alone in bed, Jongdae could still see the silver in one area that Yixing missed in his blind spot.

It came to a head as suddenly as it'd begun.

Yixing had finally asked Jongdae to come into his studio, after one whole month of shutting everyone out. His eyes were shot, framed by dark circles, but his tense shoulders relaxed as soon as Jongdae curled his arms around him. It had been a long day at work for Jongdae, too.

“I’m sorry I forgot your birthday,” said Yixing, quietly. “I didn't mean to.”

Jongdae shook his head. “That's okay. You have 364 days to make up to me.”

Music filled the room around them, a little rough and discordant around the edges. Jongdae mentally noted the parts where he didn’t quite like how it sounded. But when Jongdae softly told Yixing his honest thoughts like always, Yixing leaned back, away from Jongdae.

“What?” asked Yixing, bristling. “The other guys didn’t see anything wrong with it. What do you even really know about music anyway? You stopped just because your dad died.”

Jongdae stiffened. Yixing seemed to register the full implication of his own words a second too late, his usually sleepy eyes widening in horror at himself. Jongdae turned around, keys still in his hand, and left their flat. He heard Yixing faintly calling his name again and again, but the white noise in his head drowned him out.




“Jongdae, you really have to eat.”

“’m not hungry,” Jongdae muttered.

“Come off it,” said Minseok, softly. “You’re always hungry. Jongin says he’s getting the last of your things from Yixing’s place later.” Minseok heard muffled muttering from underneath the blankets Baekhyun had lent Jongdae earlier. “Sorry, I didn't quite catch that.”

“I said,” Jongdae pulled the blanket down to his neck and waved in the general direction of Minseok’s hair. “At least your soulmate is still out there somewhere. Two years and mine hasn't changed at all. I was the one doing all the changing.” Jongdae looked away. “Yixing’s did.”

He felt the bed dip beside him, and looked up at Minseok just as he moved forward to wrap Jongdae in his arms. Jongdae relaxed in Minseok’s hold and breathed out. Things would be a whole lot easier if Minseok had the same hair colour as his. Minseok had always been a solid presence in his life, always there whenever Jongdae needed him most.

“I really thought Yixing was it,” said Jongdae. “We started off so well, we fit into each other. Everything about us was perfect. Our hair colour was the same. And then we weren’t. I was actually alone the entire time.”

“Don’t say that. You’re not alone,” said Minseok, soothing, as he massaged Jongdae’s scalp with the tips of his fingers. “You’re never going to be alone. You have me, Baek, Kyungsoo. Your family. Jongin. And sometimes Chanyeol if you’re horny, he’s been a man parched ever since you started dating Yixing. It’s annoying. You two will always be disgusting.”

“Hey,” Jongdae weakly protested, and pouted when Minseok chuckled and ruffled his hair. “You’re supposed to be comforting me. I just had a break up.”

“I just did, silly,” said Minseok, rolling his eyes. “Baekhyun wants to play League of Legends. You can watch us once you’re feeling a bit better.”

“I think I’ll pass.”

Minseok snorted. “Like you didn’t watch us play just to laugh at Baekhyun for three hours straight last time. You should come now anyway. Baekhyun inevitably losing is always going to be funny. It might actually make you feel better.”




Except Jongdae became a little quieter for a while, more withdrawn, and spent more time hiding in Jongin’s room, unwilling to do anything except focus on his classes and part-time job. Kyungsoo even mixed up their groceries accidentally on purpose to leave red hair dye in Jongdae’s plastic bags once just to get the old Jongdae back. Yet Jongdae’s hair stubbornly remained black.

He hadn’t counted on seeing Yixing again so soon, but the universe has a funny way of working, and Yixing apparently knew everybody. He’d tried avoiding him for most of the wedding – he didn’t even remember whose it was, except the fact that one of the newlyweds was probably a distant cousin of his – but somehow found himself alone with him after his uncle had excused himself.

The latter fidgeted where he stood, shifting the champagne flute in his hand to the other. Jongdae might not be his soulmate, but he knew Yixing enough to see the words frothing at his mouth. He sighed, and gritted out, “What?”

“I never,” Yixing paused for a while. “Jongdae, I’m sor –”

“You know what, forget I asked,” Jongdae cut him off.

He made to leave when Yixing gripped his shoulder gently.

“Jongdae,” Yixing pleaded. Jongdae flinched at the sound. “I never meant what I said. I was tired, it all came out wrong.”

“But you said it anyway,” Jongdae retorted. “You were right anyway. I went nowhere with music. Whatever, I’m tired.” He gets off the bench and brushes his hands down his front. “Goodnight, Yixing.”




For close to a year, nothing changed. Jongdae threw out all the hair dyes that Kyungsoo tried to sneak into his belongings one by one. Until one morning while Jongdae trudged to the bathroom on the day of an important interview, made a face at Baekhyun gawking at him from the kitchen table over his breakfast cereal, and shut the bathroom door behind him.

It quickly dawned on him why Baekhyun acted the way he did when his own reflection stared at him in the mirror.

“Jongdae, why is Baekhyun laughing?” Minseok asked, banging on the bathroom door, demanding loudly what’s wrong, against the backdrop of what most definitely sounded like Baekhyun cackling. “He won’t tell me anything.”

The bathroom door clicked as Jongdae unlocked it and opened it slowly. Minseok realised the problem instantly, his eyes widening almost comically.

“Oh my god,” said Minseok. “It’s…”

“It’s fucking rainbow,” Jongdae completed the thought for him. “It looks stupid. Baekhyun, I’m not putting in a good word for you for Kyungsoo if you don’t shut up.” He’s somewhat appeased when Baekhyun did shut up. But. “I’m dead. Minseok, I’m so dead. I have that interview today. And my hair is fucking rainbow. Minseok, help.”

“Okay, calm down,” said Minseok. “I’m sure we can get temporary colour hair spray somewhere.”

“But will that change our hair colour too?” asked Jongdae.

“How should I know?”

“Why am I even talking about that anyway?” Jongdae muttered, mostly to himself. “Who cares? My hair is fucking rainbow. I’m not getting that job. Oh my god. My soulmate is an asshole. I’m never going to have a viable career. Holy shit. I’m sleeping on the streets.”

“Jongdae… need I remind you that you dyed your hair green?”




The temporary spray hair colour was a pretty brilliant idea, but Jongdae flopped the interview regardless because he couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that his hair turned fucking rainbow throughout the entire session, and his soulmate was going to pay.

And he did, he retaliated with fuschia hair almost immediately. Now they both have tragic fuschia hair, but the point was that Jongdae picked it.

“I'm really, really worried for your scalp.” Minseok was leaning against Jongdae’s chest, phone raised in his hand as he checked his Twitter timeline.

Kyungsoo shrugged. “I prefer the idea of him with Sahara dry hair, maybe some balding, and diminishing bank account to his constant moping. I might even sponsor his next one. He can run his hair through all the colours of the rainbow for all I care. I suggest violet.”

Jongdae was focused on booking his next hair appointment through his phone, but managed to mutter, “Vengeance will be mine.”

“But at what cost?” asked Minseok.

“Whatever it takes,” Jongdae replied, determined.

“Err, Jongdae?”

“What?”

“Your hair. It’s… changing colour.”

Jongdae frowned at him, then flipped to his camera phone and reversed it. To his horror, strands of his hair slowly changed colour right in front of his eyes.

“I’m going to take a nap,” he announced suddenly. “I’m taking a nap, oh my god, I’m not going to be awake for this mess. I haven’t even decided on my next colour.”

“Looks like it’s getting bleached again,” said Kyungsoo, watching Jongdae’s hair in morbid fascination. “I’ve never seen hair getting bleached without all those things they wrap your hair with.”




His hair… was orange.

“Nice,” said Baekhyun, the most wretched of grins on his face. Jongdae had the sudden urge to slap it. “With that shade of orange it’s turning into, next time we’re caught in a traffic jam, we can lend you to the authorities.” His gaze turned to Kyungsoo. “But I bet it’d look good on you, Kyungsoo,” he cooed.

Minseok had the gall to laugh, which was ironically unfair since he’d once woken up to orange hair a couple of years ago himself, except he’d actually received compliments for it instead. The thought occurred to Jongdae then that he might have pissed off a deity in a past life.

“Laugh it up, assholes,” Jongdae grumbled, flicking through Google image search results. “At least I never looked like Ronald McDonald.”

“Chanyeol’s hair didn’t look that bad,” said Kyungsoo quietly.

“That’s so bizarre,” said Jongdae. “Kyungsoo is defending someone.”

“He’s always defending someone,” Baekhyun retorted. “He’s an angel.”

Jongdae laughed aloud. “You wish he would defend you. Anyway I’m thinking of dyeing my hair like… I dunno, lime. That’ll teach em.”

“Do they even have hair dye in lime?” asked Minseok, curious.

“My cousin did last summer.” Baekhyun was enjoying this far too much, Jongdae strongly considered dyeing his hair in his sleep. “It fades pretty quick though. Kyungsoo, did I ever tell you how gorgeous you look in black?”

Kyungsoo pointedly ignored him while Minseok shook his head. “I’m not even going to bother with an intervention this time,” Minseok said, pointing at Jongdae. “Whoever this person is, they’re obviously meant to be with you.”

Jongdae made a face. “I would never have this bad taste in hair colour.”

“You dyed your hair green,” Minseok pointed out. “And considering lime.”

“You’re never letting that one go, are you?”

“Not really, no.”

“Jongin.”

“What?” Minseok looked at him in confusion.

“Your name’s not Jongin,” Jongdae rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers at his brother on Facetime. “Jongin, stop talking to your weird, special snowflake, three-way soulmates, and discuss my hair.”

Jongin looked up at him, face perpetually sleepy as usual. “You made me wake up for this?”

“No, I made you wake up for sympathy and moral support because I know these doofuses here are never gonna give any of that to me. Please keep up.”

“It’s just hair,” said Jongin dismissively, and waved hello at Kyungsoo when he spotted him. “What could be worse than that orange? Do whatever you want. Hey, hyung. Did I tell you about that Sehun kid from preschool?”

“Jongin, focus.” Jongdae snapped his fingers, then sighed. “Oh, what the hell. I’ll just use a random colour picker online. You’re all useless to me.”




Jongdae eventually moved out of Baekhyun’s flat mostly because he got sick of Baekhyun tittering everytime he looked at Jongdae’s hair colour of the week, and Jongin insisted that he get a room for him too so he can visit instead of crashing on his couch.

“My room’s really way too small,” Jongin complained yet again via Facetime. “I’m too big for this. Are you sure it’s not supposed to be a store room?”

The phone screen went blurry with movement. He could hear a thud, so he assumed Jongin had just dumped something on the ground and wasn’t holding his phone up properly, before the video stabilised and he could see a box labelled ‘Jongin’s awesome stuff’ in the corner of a screen in the middle of a room with just an empty bed.

“Tough,” said Jongdae. “This was the best option I could afford out of the ones we’ve seen, and you know it. You still mostly live with mum anyway, so deal. You’re lucky you have the best loving hyung who saved you a room in the first place.”

“You’re the worst hyung.” Jongin’s phone whirled around until Jongdae could see him making a face. “With the ugliest hair colour.”

“This one’s not my fault,” said Jongdae, gesturing violently upwards at his own hair. “I didn’t choose this blonde life.”

“It’s not blonde,” said Jongin, turning up his nose. “It’s like… omelette yellow. It makes you look sick. Which is actually pretty great, I can’t wait to meet your soulmate so I can thank him, shake his hand, and offer him my firstborn because the size of this room is a tragedy.”

“What makes you so sure it’s a him anyway?” asked Jongdae, squinting at the screen.

“Actually this colour isn’t so bad,” said Kyungsoo.

Jongdae jumped, not really expecting him to be there right next to him. He then realised what Kyungsoo just said. “Really?”

“It’s bad,” Kyungsoo clarified. “And your hair looks like too much sunlight may actually inadvertently set it on fire. But it’s not so bad, compared to green. Anything is better compared to green. Hey Jongin. Why is there a bed in that store room?”

“Seeeeeeeeeee.” Jongin pouted at him through the camera.

Jongdae should never have befriended anyone who was Jongin’s friend first. Jongin’s friends were all a bunch of savages. Even if Kyungsoo was a pretty cute savage who always let him steal his food.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Jongdae deadpanned. “Whatever. The hair is disappearing soon anyway. Bye. Don’t burn the flat down.” He hung up on Jongin without waiting for a response.

“So are you going to tell me what colour you’re going for this time?”

“Do you remember me asking you about blue hair the last time?”

“I don’t really keep a record of every little stupid thing you say.”

“Well, you should,” said Jongdae. “Because I’m totally dyeing my hair blue and this time you can’t stop me.”




But whoever Jongdae’s soulmate was clearly didn’t believe in breaks. Because within three hours of leaving the salon, Jongdae’s hair turned fucking purple. Kyungsoo rubbed his hand over his face, and watched Jongdae’s hair through his fingers, as he sat opposite him in a Starbucks.

That was where Jongdae finally spotted him. The guy with the exact same violent shade of purple hair, standing in the corner of Starbucks, with a bored expression on his face. But the purple in his hair meant he most definitely had to be Jongdae’s soulmate. Jongdae marched over, ignoring Kyungsoo’s confused “Jongdae?” until he was right in front of the asshole, and waved a hand in front of him.

“You actual piece of shit,” said Jongdae. He pointed at their hair. “Rainbow? Really?”

The guy stared at him, confused, but then his sullen, bitch face cracked into a small, shy smile as he took in their hair colours. It was such a stark difference in expression that it actually took Jongdae by surprise.

“Okay, I should’ve seen this coming,” the guy conceded.

Jongdae laughed in disbelief, running his fingers through his hair. “I had a job interview that day, you know. And my hair had to be rainbow. Rainbow. That’ll get me a job.” He almost felt bad when the guy’s expression fell at his words, broad shoulders dropping. “But I found some temporary spray on. Came in handy during our colour war. I still messed it up though.”

“Oh. I’m really sorry. How come the spray on didn’t affect me?”

“How should I know how this stupid thing works?” Jongdae shoots back. “But you can make it up to me by treating me to coffee.”

“But… I hate coffee,” he replies slowly.

“What are you doing in a Starbucks if you hate coffee?”

“My brother works here. I’m just waiting for him.”

Jongdae blinked, not really expecting that comeback. “Oh. Well he can wait because you’re buying me coffee,” said Jongdae. “What’s your name?”

“Sehun. Oh Sehun.”

“Sehun,” Jongdae tried his name on for size. “I’m Kim Jongdae.”

Sehun’s face broke into full-blown grin. “I know.”

When Jongdae looked back at his table, Kyungsoo mysteriously, unnervingly disappeared.




It didn't quite begin as easily as it did with Yixing. He kind of wished Kyungsoo had stuck around. Their first coffee date ended up being rife with stilted conversations, punctuated by awkward silences, so much so that Jongdae almost regretted rushing them into it. Sehun appeared to share absolutely nothing in common with him. Except for the fact that his old manager Junmyeon was apparently Sehun’s brother.

Jongdae ran his finger over the edge of his coffee cup. “What do you even drink if you don’t like coffee?”

“I mean… there are other better drinks out there,” Sehun replied. “Like bubble tea.”

“Oh. How do you know my name?” asked Jongdae.

Sehun’s lips turned downwards a little. “You don’t remember me. You used to wait for Jongin in preschool so you could head home together.”

“You know my brother? How do you even remember that? How do you remember me? Jongin in preschool happened decades ago.”

“I just… do,” said Sehun simply, shrugging. “You don’t look that different.”

They both fell silent, unsure of what to say. Jongdae had spent so long looking for his soulmate, that he’d somehow assumed that it would all naturally, and effortlessly fall into place once he’d found them. Just like it did with Yixing.

“So what do you do?” He winced at how loud his own voice sounded to him.

“Uh,” said Sehun. He closed both his eyes for a couple of second, and opened them one by one. “I’m an actor?”

Jongdae blinked at him. “Really? You’re an actor? What about your hair?”

“I mean, I’m not an actor yet. Uh. I plan to be one. I’ve been going for auditions, but I’m actually still in college.”

“Oh.” This time, it was Jongdae’s turn to squirm uncomfortably in his seat.

Jongdae wondered how they could fit together for the rest of their lives when they could barely fit into a single, proper conversation. It was impossible for them to be soulmates. And yet, their matching hair colours reflected in the café window told him otherwise. Jongdae frowned a little at the reflection, and shook his head with a smile when Sehun looked at him, confused.

He ended up leaving about less than ten minutes into their painful first date after Jongin called because he did end up accidentally setting his instant noodles on fire, and felt a little guilty about feeling relieved.




The second date with Sehun was an improvement. A vast one. Partly because Jongdae did manage to stick around longer than the measly ten minutes the first time around. And partly because Jongin was there.

(“Why do you keep calling me baby brother?” asked Jongin. “I’m taller than you are. By the way, Kyungsoo hyung told me you met him. How did it go?”

“Yeah. Sehun is so… he’s so…” Jongdae struggled to find the words. “I honestly don’t know. He doesn’t even like coffee.”

“Sehun? Oh Sehun?” demanded Jongin. “The one who moved to China?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Holy shit,” said Jongin, awed. “He’s pretty cool. He signed up for our dance classes today. Wow. He’s your soulmate?” Jongin’s eyes flicked towards Jongdae’s hair. “You’re right. He’s got the same fucking purple. Huh. That’s a waste of blue dye. Coffee tastes disgusting anyway.”

“Yeah, same purple. And not much else in common.”

“You have me in common,” said Jongin, off-handedly. “Hyung… why are you looking at me like that?”)

So there Jongin was, stuck in between Sehun and Jongdae, with his hands in his pockets. There were a few stragglers around them, but it was one of the last days of October, and freezing for rollercoaster standards. Few people in the right minds would queue in the cold to ride rollercoasters, but apparently this was Sehun’s brilliant idea.

“Okay,” said Jongin, breaking the silence. “I’m sacrificing a weekend that I could be using to sleep in. Jeez. So. Talk. Take turns. What do you do you do for fun? And don’t tell me, I don’t really care.”

“I dance,” said Sehun. “Not as good as Jongin though.”

Jongdae could see Jongin grin to himself, chest puffed out. Smart Sehun.

“At least you could never be as bad as I am,” said Jongdae in return. “I can’t dance at all. Not even if my life depended on it.”

Sehun frowned. “Everyone can dance.”

“I really, really don’t think so. But it’s your turn to talk about yourself.”

“I just did.”

“And I just told you I can’t dance.”

“That’s cheating.”

“Do I really have to some kind of referee here?” Jongin buried his face into his hands. “Ugh. Who goes to an amusement park this close to winter?”

Jongin tagging along somehow became habitual from then on. Whenever Sehun offered Jongdae a ride home, Jongin was there in the backseat, texting his complaints to his girlfriend. Even when Jongdae took Sehun out to the movies, Jongin sat between them, holding onto their shared popcorn, and hating his life.

They were in the middle of lunch one day, deep in discussion about Sehun’s newly adopted puppy when something over Jongdae’s shoulder caught Jongin’s attention.

“Hey,” said Jongin suddenly, patting the back of Jongdae’s hand. “Hey, hyung. It’s Zhang Liyin. She looks good.”

There was no mistaking the beautiful, graceful Liyin. Jongdae sighed to himself. “Of course. My taste is fucking amazing.”

“I don’t know,” said Jongin. “You dated Chanyeol.”

“Look, Chanyeol is hot, okay?” Jongdae pointed a finger at Jongin accusingly.

Sehun had gone completely silent at that point, but Jongdae never thought twice about it. Awkward silences were a common occurrence for them, so it didn’t really seem anything out of the ordinary.




That is, until he picked up on the fact that the Ghost of Exes Past had decided to haunt him.

They were at a party when Sehun met Chanyeol for the first time just as Chanyeol was in the midst of trying his moves on Jongdae. It wasn’t even in Jongdae’s plans to bring Sehun along. But Sehun had sounded so dejected over the phone after another audition, that he’d asked Sehun to pick him up and come with him.

“I’m seeing someone,” Sehun managed to hear Jongdae explain over the loud music to a very inebriated-looking guy who was taller than Sehun while holding him away at arm’s length. “I’m not looking for anything right now, Chanyeol.”

“That w- exactly wuh you said las’ time,” Chanyeol slurred. “But it’s over, right? I can give you ‘xactly what you need.”

“But I really am seeing someone,” Jongdae repeated himself patiently.

“You okay?” asked Sehun, keeping a wary eye on Chanyeol.

“Who ‘re you?” Chanyeol squinted at him. “You’re not Kyungsoo. You’re too tall.”

“That’s my someone,” said Jongdae, pointing at their matching hair colours.

Chanyeol blinked for a second, straightened himself, then scanned Sehun up and down, like he’s sizing him up, before he snorted, and stood up to leave. Jongdae tried not to laugh at the entire process, and bit on his bottom lip instead.

“What’s his problem?” asked Sehun.

“Err, Chanyeol and I,” said Jongdae. “There’s really no other way to put it: we just fooled around a lot. He’s hot, he thinks I’m hot, so we kinda did the dirty on a regular basis.”

“On a regular basis? Was he that good?”

Jongdae smiled a little, watching Sehun’s lips twist unhappily. “He’s a sloppy kisser when he gets too excited.”

“Gross. He sounds like a douchebag,” Sehun declared. “I don’t like him.”

“Chanyeol?” Jongdae asked, frowning. “Not really. You might actually like him when he’s sober. He’s not bad at all.” He watched Sehun watch Chanyeol stumble across the room. Chanyeol slipped, and Sehun smiled in satisfaction, lighting up the features on his usually frowny face. Jongdae should probably have felt bad about Chanyeol but he was kind of busy with Sehun and all his little surprises. “You know, you’re kinda cute when you’re a little bit jealous.”

“I’m not jealous at all. Why should I be?” Sehun took Jongdae’s bottle of beer, swallowed a large gulp. “D’you really think I’m cute though?”

“Whoa, slow down,” said Jongdae, taking back the bottle from him. Sehun wavered unsteadily in front of him. “Are you getting drunk already?” asked Jongdae, horrified.

“No,” Sehun refuted petulantly. Jongdae was no fun. “Maybe. A little bit. Jongin made me do shots earlier. It was awful. Jongin is a bad friend.”

“You can’t mix beer and vodka,” Jongdae huffed. “Don’t blame me if you get hungover. Come on, I think it’s time for you to go home before we both get piss drunk and neither of us can find our way home.”

“If I leave, Chanyeol’s gonna try getting into your pants again.”

“We’re leaving together, silly,” said Jongdae. He took Sehun’s hand in his, not noticing the way Sehun stared at their interlocking fingers. “Let’s go get Jongin. I’m a piss poor driver when I’m sober, and you’re definitely in no shape to drive.”

“But Jonginnie drank too.”

“You’re right, never mind. We’ll just call a cab.”

Sehun nodded, squeezing Jongdae’s warm palm against his own clammy one tightly.




“You spent time with Sehun on your own without me.” Jongin clapped slowly. “This calls for celebration.”

They had their movie paused because Sehun didn’t want to miss anything while he was gone taking a piss, and Jongdae was willing to wait anyway. Jongin watched the entire exchange, poorly suppressing his snickering.

“He was drunk,” said Jongdae. “And I was kinda drunk. It doesn’t count.”

“It totally counts. You bozos didn’t need me there. You remembered what happened, right?”

“Nothing really happened.” Jongdae slurped on his slushie. “His dog kinda humped my leg as soon as we got into his house, and I made sure he had some water and put a bucket next to his bed just in case, then I left.”

“Damn. His dog got further with you than he did.” Jongin grinned when Jongdae scowled. “Oh good, Sehun’s back.”




Sehun met Yixing later, too, at some old musical records store, because Jongdae has the worst kind of rotten luck. Jongdae was waiting for Jongin and Sehun with their drinks from the outside, and watched the entire exchange in horror.

Jongdae had learnt then the difference between Sehun’s regular bitch face, and Sehun’s actual bitch face. Sehun watched Yixing’s back as they passed him, after Jongin politely, but nervously, returned Yixing’s hello, and dragged an unhappy Sehun out of the store. Jongdae didn’t know exactly what Jongin told Sehun about Yixing, but decided not to ask.

But Sehun didn’t dislike Chanyeol. They’d met again under far better circumstances while Sehun (and a long suffering Jongin in the backseat) was waiting for Jongdae at his college’s parking lot, with Chanyeol apologising, sheepishly scratching his head.

Jongdae had tried stalling a meeting between Sehun and his other friends for as long as it took, but Baekhyun and Minseok eventually stormed into Jongdae’s flat while they were having dinner with Jongin to terrorise Sehun.

“Oh my god, the cute boy! You got the cute boy!” Baekhyun squeezed Jongdae’s bicep in excitement, then stared Sehun down, until the latter squirmed under the attention. “The one I told you about with the nice ass in college, remember? Your old manager’s brother!”

“Baek, calm down,” said Minseok, but he’s grinning excitedly too.

“Your friends are scary,” Sehun whispered to Jongdae.

Jongdae agreed inwardly. “Guys… yeah, this is Sehun.”




The first time Jongdae could hold a proper, full conversation with Sehun without Jongin or anyone else around happened in the middle of watching Ringu. They’d started with Jongin as usual, except Jongin didn’t sit in between them anymore. Jongdae sat between them instead, hyperaware of the way Sehun sat close to him, within arm’s reach, thigh about less than a centimetre away from his own. Sehun easily nudged Jongdae with an elbow while Sadako climbed out of the well.

“Did you date Baekhyun too?” whispered Sehun, unsure.

Jongdae choked on his own spit. “What? Hell no.”

“Oh,” said Sehun. He looked back at the screen, flinching at Sadako’s face. “Okay.”

“Sehun, what is it?”

“It’s nothing.” Sehun bit at the end of the bubble tea straw, avoiding Jongdae’s gaze.

“Tell me.”

“It’s just. Liyin… Chanyeol…”

Jongdae’s chest clenched a little. “I never actually dated Liyin, you know. And like I said, Chanyeol and I were never serious. I wasn’t even that mad when his hair turned different from mine. Kinda got cockblocked for a while because I really hated that red hair on him but there it is.”

“But you said – ”

“I had a giant, embarrassing crush on her.” Jongdae grinned. “But I never went out with her. I really, really wanted to though. And she would’ve said yes if I asked. Don’t listen to anything Kyungsoo ever tells you about her, that man is the personification of evil. I’m a total catch, and she liked me.”

He suppressed a laugh fighting to bubble out of him as he watched Sehun’s finely shaped eyebrows knit together in a frown. Sehun’s at least half a head taller than he is, and looked unimpressed half the time, but there were times when he still managed to look small in spite of it all. He’s a walking, talking contradiction, and Jongdae kind of really, really wanted to kiss him.

“You can’t tell me you never had a thing with anyone ever,” said Jongdae.

“I kinda kissed Jongin like once.”

“Okay. I didn’t need to know that.” Jongdae’s grin disappeared, lips curved in a moue. “Really? My brother was your first kiss? Of all people? Hey Jongin-” Jongdae cut himself off at the sight of the empty seat next to him. “Huh. When did he leave?”

“About an hour ago,” said Sehun, with a grin. “I think he had to call Soojung. So wrapped up in my good looks that you never realised?”

Jongdae lightly punched Sehun in the chest. His really firm, defined chest. Jongdae’s mouth watered, but forced himself to look up and face Sehun. Not like that helped. Jongdae always knew Sehun was good-looking but was he always that good-looking?

“Okay, okay. I didn’t know how to stop him from crying when we were in preschool,” said Sehun, shrugging. “So I kissed him. People always seemed to do it in the movies.”

Jongdae looked scandalised. “Why didn’t he tell me?”

“I don’t know,” Sehun replied. “I'm a hell of a good kisser. I would've told everybody if I kissed me. Hell, I kissed everybody. I don’t even really remember if he was the first one I kissed.”

“You kissed everybody,” said Jongdae slowly. “In preschool? How could you have kissed everybody? Why did you kiss everybody?”

“You don't believe me?” Sehun pouted.

“I didn’t say that.” Jongdae sat back. “Wow. A true Casanova on my hands.”

Sehun smirked, smug. “Of course. My milkshake brought all the boys and girls to the yard.”

“You’re so cute, god,” said Jongdae, quickly kissing Sehun on the nose. Sehun’s eyes widened, and Jongdae panicked at his own spontaneity. “What? I can’t kiss my own boyfriend in private?” Jongdae asked, but the shakiness of his own voice betrayed him.

Sehun touched his own nose, expression softened in a small smile. Jongdae kind of really, really fucking likes that smile. “Boyfriend…” Sehun paused. “Any other ex-boyfriends or girlfriends I should know about? There’s one more, right?”

“Technically I never had a girlfriend,” said Jongdae, nervously. His eyes hadn’t left Sehun’s nose, and he couldn’t look Sehun in the eye after what he’d done. “Chanyeol wasn’t my boyfriend either.”

“Okay,” Sehun conceded, then corrected himself. “Any others?”

Jongdae hesitated at first. “Yixing.”

“Yixing. Right. That guy from the record store. I knew it. He asked about you. Who’s the real Casanova here?”

“Hey,” Jongdae protested, lightly slapping Sehun’s arm with the back of his hand. “You weren’t 21 for two whole years. And you kissed everybody in preschool. I only kissed two, now compare that with the entire preschool class population.”

“All fifteen of us,” Sehun grinned brightly, before it faded. Jongdae didn’t like that, he wanted Sehun to smile again. “But Yixing was serious, wasn’t he?”

Jongdae sighed. “Yeah. He was. We were together for almost a year. I even kind of thought he was my soulmate for a long time. But needless to say, he wasn’t and it didn’t really end very well. There’s nothing between us anymore though. And there’s no one else.”

“Okay,” said Sehun. But he didn’t look thoroughly convinced. “Does this Yixing work out at the gym a lot?”

“What are you talking about, Oh Sehun?”

Sehun shrugged, poker faced. “I need to know if I’m going to have to fight any old exes for your honour. I think I can take Chanyeol down. I’m not going to physically fight the girl though… I think.”

“Sehun,” Jongdae laughed, exasperated. “Any more burning questions?”

“Do you want kids in future?”

Jongdae smiled. “Maybe. One more question and the interview is over.”

“Okay. Is Minseok your brother too? Or cousin?”

Jongdae looked up at Sehun in disbelief. “Do we look like brothers?”

“Sometimes siblings don’t look like each other,” Sehun pointed out. “You guys have the same family names. Maybe he’s like a half-brother. You don’t really look like Jongin at all either.”

“Jongin looks more like our dad,” said Jongdae, tone softer. “He got all of our dad’s good genes. You know how the first pancake you make always turns out ugly as sin? That’s me before they got things right with Jongin.”

Sehun leaned his head against Jongdae’s. “I like your genes.”

“We’re already dating,” said Jongdae. “You don’t have to butter me up.”

“I mean it. I think you’re beautiful.”

Jongdae laughed. “And you’re sweet.”

“Hey hyung… you don’t have to answer,” said Sehun. He wasn’t looking at Jongdae anymore; his eyes were on Jongdae’s family portrait on the television shelf. “Jongin always talked about your dad in past tense, but he said I should ask you instead. What happened to your dad?”

Jongdae sucked in a breath. It was an innocent question, but it felt like a sucker punch to the stomach regardless. He’d always managed to avoid talking about his dad with Yixing, and Yixing never had the time. Even Minseok never really brought it up that often, and Baekhyun wasn’t around at the time. Sehun watched him carefully.

“He had a stroke while I was in the military,” Jongdae replied, quiet. “He didn’t make it, and I didn’t make it back in time to say goodbye.”

“That was when you were eighteen, right?”

Jongdae nodded. “Actually he… he wasn’t actually my real, biological dad. Our mum remarried when I was like a year old so I didn’t know. Then Jongin was born. The year I found out the truth, I didn’t know if I could give him a father’s day card like I always did. But he’d actually been waiting for one all day. He came to my bed that night, telling me off for thinking I couldn’t. He was still my dad. I probably look more like my other dad, whoever he is.”

Sehun said nothing, electing to listen instead, and wait.

“Anyway. It doesn’t matter,” said Jongdae, shaking his head with a smile. “Boring, old sob story. With Minseok, I guess we’re kinda like brothers. But we’re not related. We’ve known each other for ages, he knows everything. We’re practically bound by blood oath.”

“Blood oath?” asked Sehun. Jongdae felt relieved at how readily Sehun allowed the subject to change, quite content to be held when Sehun pulled him closer. “Really hyung, you guys are so lame.”

“You’re so rude.” Jongdae complained.

“And you’re so lame,” said Sehun, taking Jongdae’s fingers into his own. “I don’t even know why I was so intimidated by you when we were kids. You’re not all that at all.”

“You were?” Jongdae whispered, suddenly realising their close proximity. He could feel Sehun’s nose brushing against his, and when he looked up from his lips, Sehun’s eyes were hooded, focused on Jongdae’s lips. “Must be my dashing good looks.”

He could feel Sehun laugh as he whispered, “I hate you.”

Jongdae didn’t think Sehun really did hate him that much if he didn’t really mind kissing him that softly, one hand in one of his own while another was warm and comforting against the side of his face, thumb tracing his jawline, to the background of someone screaming in the television.

“I like you,” Jongdae quietly retorts.

He felt Sehun smile against his lips. “I know.”




Jongdae didn’t know when Sehun practically moved in with him. He probably should have realised something earlier. Sehun had been around a lot, that was true, but before he knew it, Jongdae had just automatically grabbed for Sehun a fresh pair of boxers from the laundry room, and realised that he’d been doing the same thing every other day for the past few months.

The gradual domesticity of it all had Jongdae frozen with one hand on the bathroom doorknob, while the other gripped onto Sehun’s underwear. Even his dog Vivi was taking a nap on their bed, no, Jongdae’s bed, curled up around himself with a chew toy he’d been playing with right next to him. Sehun’s phone had been charging next to his all night, and several of his caps sat neatly next to his own collection.

“Hyung?” called Sehun through the door again, breaking into his reverie.

Jongdae chuckled under his breath, and opened the bathroom door.

Their hair colours hadn’t changed since the day of their meeting, and most of the purple had since grown out, while they both grew into each other.

Sehun ended up demanding attention from both Minseok and Baekhyun too because apparently he collected hyungs. Baekhyun had even taken to biting him, which was alarming, and Jongdae needed to keep him away from Sehun.

Even Chanyeol had taken Sehun under his wing. It was when Sehun appeared on Chanyeol’s Instagram account that it dawned on him just how close the two had become. Plus it was a little suspicious how Sehun discovered all about his erogenous zones. But then again, he couldn’t really complain when he had Sehun licking a stripe up his perineum as he gripped Jongdae’s hip the night before.

They didn’t even need Jongin around to dissipate awkwardness between them anymore. Not that it stopped Jongin from coming over and inevitably scarring himself at the sight of them in compromising positions. And Jongdae always left the one spare room for Jongin.

It took another month for Jongin to accidentally on purpose slip to their mum over dinner that Jongdae was seeing someone. Jongdae had kicked him under the dining table, but was forced to bring Sehun home anyway. Naturally their mother loved Sehun. Jongdae wasn’t really that worried. Everybody loves Sehun.




Even the latest casting director who decided that Sehun was perfect for a supporting role in their upcoming drama loved Sehun.

“So since you’re an actor now and everything,” said Jongdae, leaning against Sehun’s shoulder. Jongin wasn’t around, off training for his next dance performance. “I guess this means you’re gonna be putting off enlistment for a while.”

“I guess so.”

“Good. I get to keep you for now.”

“But it’ll happen eventually,” Sehun pointed out. “How are you ever going to live without me?”

“Shh. You’re not going anywhere yet.”

“Hey, Jongdae,” Sehun whispered in his ear, doing away with honorifics. Jongdae shuddered in response, every nerve in his body lit at the ends. “Do you think we should dye our hair?”

Jongdae stiffened. “Why?”

“I’ve kind of been dying to try light brown,” said Sehun. “Something normal for once. We haven’t changed our hair colour in ages and the purple is getting old. I think mine can take it so you don’t have to do anything.” Sehun shifted against him slightly when he didn’t respond. “Jongdae, what’s wrong?”

“Yixing had silver hair,” said Jongdae, more to himself than anything.

“What?” Sehun cupped Jongdae’s cheek and turned his head to make Jongdae face him. “What are you talking about? What about him?”

Jongdae closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at Sehun. “Yixing and I. We broke up because our hair colours weren’t the same anymore. His hair turned silver. Mine was black. It all went horribly wrong. What if it happens to us too?”

“Hyung? I don’t understand.”

“What if our hair colours don’t actually, really match? And someone out there has the same purple you dyed your hair with?”

Sehun looked like a kicked puppy when Jongdae stood up.




“You were okay with enlistment talk,” said Minseok slowly. “Which basically involves being separated from him for two years, maybe even three, in future. But you suddenly freaked out when he talked about hair colour?”

“It sounds dumber when you put it that way.”

Minseok looked pointedly at him. “So what, you broke up with him?”

“I don’t know,” said Jongdae, feeling lost all over again. He looked up when the door to Jongin’s bedroom opened and shut loudly. “Jongin, what are you doing?”

“Fuck your stupidity,” Jongin told him. “Fuck this. You’re all he’s been talking my ear off ever since you guys met, and he’s all you talk about too. Mum met him, and liked him. You’ve never brought anyone back home before. He’s the best damn thing that’s ever happened to you and you let him go.”

“You can have him if you think he’s that great. You were his first kiss anyway.”

Jongin stared at him, stunned. “I can’t believe it. I can’t fucking believe it.”

“Maybe he isn’t really the one,” Jongdae continued. He picked up a receipt of the last pizza he’d ordered with Sehun lying on the table and crumpled it into a ball. “I don’t know anymore, okay? You keep telling me to sing again, and Yixing got me to do it, and yet he’s not it. But he doesn’t even care about it.”

“He’s your soulmate.” Jongdae deadpanned. “Not your fucking fix-it. No one is going to come solve all your problems. That’s all on you. And I barely even remember him kissing me because it happened in preschool. Dad died over four years ago, he wouldn’t have wanted to see you like this, using him as an excuse for your stupid fucking decisions.” With that, Jongin grabbed his keys and left.

“I know he likes him,” said Jongdae, flinching at door banging. “But I didn’t realise he likes him that much.”

Minseok sighed. “Jongdae. You want my honest opinion?”

“Are you going to be yelling at me too?”

Minseok ignored the question, and settled down beside him. “You’ve been excited about meeting your soulmate since… well, forever. Remember when you and I were kids and you tried to spray hair dye your hair and your mum yelled when she found you?”

“No,” said Jongdae, just to be contrary. “But Dad said it looked awesome.”

“You finally found him.” Minseok continued without listening to him. “What’s really the problem now? It’s too perfect? It’s not my life, and I have no right to it, especially since I haven’t found my soulmate myself… but I think you’re making a big mistake. All Sehun has to do to make you happy is exist – see, your entire face lights up because you know it’s true. He makes you happy.”

Jongdae laughed a little in spite of himself, but it quickly trailed off. “So did Yixing though,” whispered Jongdae.

“Yixing.” Minseok sighed again. “I thought we were past that.”

“We are,” said Jongdae, running his fingers through his hair. “I am. But that’s not what I meant. I don’t really care about Yixing like that anymore. But I did, and look where that got me? We had the same hair colours, and then we just didn’t. It was just a coincidence. What if it’s the same with Sehun?”

Minseok pressed his knuckles against Jongdae’s shoulder. “Sometimes I think hair colours don’t really have anything to do with any of this. Maybe Yixing was meant for you at the time. Everyone thought you and him were it for each other back then. Some things just don’t work out even though you both tried. This thing you have with Sehun though. It might. Or it might go down the toilet. You won’t really know if you’re just going to give it all up without a fight.”

Jongdae remained silent.

“Remember when you just turned twenty one,” Minseok continued. “And you booked your hair appointment like the week before to dye your hair green because you wanted to check if Zhang Liyin was your soulmate? Sehun was just like you. Your hair turned rainbow on his birthday too. Rainbow. He couldn’t wait one more second to look for you, and didn’t want to miss you.”

Minseok got up from the couch, and picked up the empty mug that Jongdae hadn’t bothered to put in the sink all day.

“By the way,” Minseok stopped at the kitchen entryway. “You’re stupid if you think Jongin’s actually mad at you for hurting Sehun. He’s your brother, you know. He even played cupid for you, not Sehun. Sehun was just a kid he remembered from preschool. I mean, sure, obviously they’ve gotten a lot closer now and are pretty much inseparable but that’s not the point.

“Did you know that your dad made him promise to look after you when you couldn’t come home in time to see him? You. He made me promise not to tell you. He’s the younger brother, and your dad wanted him to look after you, the older brother, because he couldn’t anymore. And he has been trying. He’s not really mad at you for hurting Sehun. He’s mad at you for hurting yourself. And he’s mad at himself.”




Jongdae wakes up from his nap, with Kyungsoo prodding at his shoulder and hovering over him, large eyes watching him almost unblinkingly. He’s not even sure how he managed to get in the flat in the first place.

“I stole Jongin’s keys,” says Kyungsoo by way of explanation, like he can actually read Jongdae’s mind. Maybe he can. “And I booked you an appointment at the hair salon. Take a shower first because you fucking stink.”

“What?” Jongdae rubs at his eyes, crusty from sleep.

“I’m staging an intervention,” says Kyungsoo. “I don’t like seeing you like this again, I don’t like seeing Jongin so unhappy, and I don’t like the way it weirdly affects Chanyeol too because apparently Sehun and him are inseparable. By the way. Chanyeol and I are together now.”

“What?”

Kyungsoo sighs. “You’re a bit obtuse, you know.”

“Your hair was never red,” Jongdae points out. “How is that possible?”

“Chanyeol was the one who dyed his hair red.” Kyungsoo pats Jongdae’s cheek, like he’s explaining something abstract and particularly difficult to grasp to a small child. “I wasn’t 21 yet, stupid. He redyed his hair black before my birthday. You’re weird. You never asked him. But I guess you weren’t kidding when you said you weren’t serious about him.”

“Was he?” asks Jongdae, sitting up, suddenly feeling like an asshole. “I feel like an asshole now. Did you like him the entire time? Fuck. I didn’t know.”

Kyungsoo sits down next to him. “That’s because you are. But no, he wasn’t serious about you either. He was curious though so he dyed his hair just to check. Which is stupid because you had that hideous green hair the entire time. But he actually liked that red hair.”

“Green trumps red anytime,” says Jongdae, stubborn. “Kyungsoo… I wouldn’t have kept going back to Chanyeol if I knew he was your soulmate. I would never do that to you. I swear.”

“I know.” Kyungsoo nudged Jongdae’s shoulder with his own. “It’s okay. I’m not mad. I probably would’ve laughed if you told me I was going to be with Chanyeol anyway. His ears are kind of stupid.”

“Don’t lie, you know his ears are cute,” says Jongdae. “Baekhyun’s going to be bummed.”

“Baekhyun wasn’t serious either.” Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. “I kissed him once just to shut him up and he realised there really was nothing between us. And no, I didn’t like Baekhyun that way. Or even Chanyeol at first actually. Chanyeol and I didn’t happen immediately. I couldn’t stand his obnoxious ass, and he thought I was scary. But we were both wrong. Relationships don’t happen by themselves, soulmates or not. Just like you and Sehun. Now shut up, stupid, and get dressed. Your shirt looks like a rat went to town on it.”

“Chanyeol’s right,” Jongdae mutters, yelping when Kyungsoo thwacks the back of his head.




Kyungsoo was right too.

After Kyungsoo had left him with his newly dyed hair, he realises Kyungsoo had stolen his phone earlier to change his screen wallpaper to a picture that he’s never seen before. It’s the three of them, Jongdae, Sehun and Jongin, sprawled over their couch. Jongin was asleep with one leg on Sehun’s lap, Sehun’s hand was circling patterns against Jongdae’s palm, while Jongdae watched Sehun with a fond smile on his face.

Somewhere down the road, he’d fallen in love with Sehun without realising it.

He’s out on his own for the first time on a weekend to get some groceries for dinner, thoughts filled with all the stupid kids party supply that Sehun would slip into their basket if he’s there with him. It’s there that he chances upon Yixing in the aisle for laundry detergent, a surprised and unsure smile on his face.

“Can we talk later?” asks Yixing. “You never answered any of my emails, I really need to talk to you. Please?”

For once, Jongdae simply nods, forgoing any protest. Yixing’s jaw drops a little bit, before he smiles wider and gestures to the exit.




“How are you?” Yixing asks.

“Is that really what you want to talk about?” Jongdae shoots back. “If so, I’m leaving and getting myself bubble tea.”

“No, it’s not.” Yixing pauses, eyes on the phone in Jongdae’s hand. “So… who is he?”

Jongdae blinks, taken aback by the question. “What?”

“You smiled to yourself while you checked your phone earlier,” says Yixing. “And you smiled again when you mentioned bubble tea. Bubble tea was never on the list of things that made Kim Jongdae smile.”

“There’s a list?”

“I don’t think it’s really up to date anymore.” Yixing smiles, a tinge of regret along the lines of his face. “I’m happy you’re happy. You must be if you let him dye your hair green.”

Jongdae barks a laugh, and doesn’t bother correcting him. “Yeah. I must be.”

They sit together in surprisingly comfortable, companionable silence for the first time since their break up. Then again, they never properly managed to closed the chapter on them. The idea that Yixing isn’t his soulmate is no longer the raw, crippling pain that used to course through his veins. It’s a strange revelation.

“We were a ticking time bomb.” Jongdae admits slowly. “We weren’t right for each other. We should’ve ended things earlier.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t enough,” says Yixing. Jongdae shakes his head. “I did love you, you know. It wasn’t just lip service.”

There’s a small smile on Jongdae’s face that isn’t as bitter anymore. He knows it’s the truth; he loved him too. But Minseok was right as usual. Jongdae watches Yixing rummaging in his bag, before tugging out what appears to be a small box and holds it in front of Jongdae like an offering.

“You told me I had 364 days to make up to you,” says Yixing quietly. “I don’t think I made it.”

In his hands was an album, including the first song that he and Yixing had worked on together when they first dated. Yixing had marked the credits page. There’s a small lump in his throat when he recognises the hangul letters of his own name right next to his under lyrics and vocals.

“Yixing,” Jongdae whispers, voice stuck in his throat.

“Lyricists have some rights to the song,” Yixing explains. “So they'll need you at the office. Get some paperwork done. I’ll send you another email with all the details. I kept your voice because no one else could sing it like you did.”

“They didn’t have to. They just have to sing it well.”

“Like you did,” Yixing repeats himself. “I was already planning to put the song out there, in case you think I’m doing this just for the sake of it. This was the most popular song on our Soundcloud account. People keep raving about the one singing it. You could have a job at the label, if you want it. That didn’t come from me either.”

He smiles and nods, as he exhales the breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding, and stands up. “Goodbye, Yixing. And thank you.”




Later that night, Jongdae steps into their empty flat, and drops the keys next to the empty spot where Sehun used to keep his. Jongin’s was always on his bedside table. Sehun’s spare change is still there though, from when they’d ordered pizza together for the last time.

It isn’t the only thing Sehun left behind.

He’s everywhere, even though he isn’t really there. The red sock is still lying where it’s been the entire day. There are dog treats for Vivi sitting in a shelf; Sehun probably didn’t manage to take with him. Jongdae vaguely wonders if he took any of it at all with him, or if Sehun had to drop by a pet store to pick some new ones.

Sehun made him buy cushions for the couch because how could anyone watch horror movies as often as Jongdae does without the protection of cushions? Jongdae laughs a little at the memory, as he sits on the couch, and picks up a cushion to hug it to his chest. There’s the little clock that replaced the first one after Sehun had accidentally broken it. And the fake flowers that Sehun insisted they get for the dining table. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s home. And it’s theirs.

Jongdae had completely underestimated how important Sehun had become to him, and Jongin, (hell, even all his friends) in the little time they’ve had together, and how empty the place is without him.

Sehun isn’t perfect, and Jongdae could probably come up with a list of the ways that Sehun drives him crazy. But he’s thoughtful, quietly romantic and tries a lot harder with his words around Jongdae than he does with everyone else. He even fits in better with his friends than he does. Sehun. Sehun, Sehun, Sehun. How could Jongdae have ever let him walk out the door in the first place?

The phone rings, and Jongdae blinks. Before he can react, it beeps to voice mail. “Jongdae hyung?” His chest tightens at the husky voice he hasn’t heard for way too long. “I don’t… really know how to say this but I just woke up and my hair is green?”

Jongdae sobs out a laugh, a little brokenly, a little relieved, and rushes for the phone. “Hello, Sehunnie. Please come home. I’m sorry. I missed you.”

“Hyung. I missed you too.”

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