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fic: soulmates
pairing: sunwoo/eric, sunwoo/changmin, sunwoo/chanhee, sunwoo/jacob
rating: T
wordcount: 1238
tags: canon compliant, plotless musings, sunwoo loves his soulmates and that's it
a/n: I wrote this in 2020 and totally forgot about it until someone mentioned soulmate line during the recent ficdom survey lol a short, simple little thing that I really liked revisiting and thinking about back then.
Sunwoo believes in soulmates.
It would be hard not to, considering he knows for a fact he has soulmates. Plural. He has four soulmates, actually, who came into his life mostly at once, but not at all, either. It took him time and plenty of nights awake in his bed, thinking about what it all meant, to realize that there was no big reason behind it, nor did he need to explain what was so clear-cut.
He had soulmates. Plain and simple.
Chanhee was his first in many ways. The first person to love him first without demanding to be loved back, the first person to break down his barriers, the first person to give him an orgasm. He was also the first person to make a nest in Sunwoo’s heart, slowly, twig by twig, every caress and every smile building what felt more like a fortress, indestructible. Chanhee himself has always been a force to be reckoned with, powerful in his every move despite the gracefulness of his hands and the sweetness of his voice. He didn’t take any shit, and he didn’t let Sunwoo take any, either. He's soft where he needs to be, and tough where life asks him to be, and Sunwoo loves to see both of that in him, not contradictory but complementary, like two sides of the same coin. Chanhee is his refuge when Sunwoo needs one, someone who will hug him tight first, ask what happened later. Sometimes Chanhee will slip into his bed while Sunwoo is watching something, or writing lyrics, or reading a manhwa, and snuggle close to him, not saying anything. He's upset if Sunwoo stops what he's doing to cuddle, because that's not what that is about; he just wants Sunwoo’s company, he wants to watch whatever he's watching, read whatever he's reading, bask in his presence like a moth drawn to light. The word comfortable never makes more sense than when Chanhee is around.
Jacob was the complete opposite. He came into Sunwoo’s life—and heart—in such an unassuming way, Sunwoo barely noticed it happening. Sunwoo was intimidated at first, knowing Jacob had been training for so much longer, having come from such a different place, carrying so much knowledge and skills under his belt. But then Jacob would offer him a gentle, tired smile at the end of practice, hand him a bottle of water, and slowly show through actions, not words, that he wasn’t as intimidating as Sunwoo had thought him to be. Their guitars brought them closer, and their hearts brought them closer still. Jacob had many fears, Sunwoo realized, something he could relate to. They understood each other, spoke honestly about it once they figured out just how right it felt, and Sunwoo found himself to be the one to get Jacob to open up, something that was not easy. He would never willingly volunteer his inner feelings, not unless Sunwoo poked him gently, let him know it was safe to do so, giving Jacob all the time he needed. When they kissed, Sunwoo could taste the apprehension on his lips; he made sure to swallow it down, drawing it out of Jacob like one would with venom. They’re as indispensable as air to each other, needing the reassurance that they’re not alone; they have each other, and as long as that’s true, they’re gonna be ok.
Then there was Changmin. A puzzle, in many ways, especially at first. Sunwoo thought he was intimidating, too, but he was right to think so. Changmin was intense in every sense of the word. Sunwoo was scared as soon as he met him, thinking he’d never be able to approach him. If they were to work together, Sunwoo thought during those first few weeks, it could be a problem—how would he live and work with someone he couldn’t befriend, at all? But he was wrong. Not about Changmin being intense, because he was, he still is, but about being unable to approach him. Their relationship started thanks to work ethic: Sunwoo was a diligent trainee who treated every word out of Changmin’s mouth like gospel. Changmin noticed that. They started talking, about choreography at first, then about their lives. Changmin didn’t exactly open up to him, but he was honest and kind, and when later Sunwoo took a drunk, flirtatious joke in stride, Changmin was visibly (and pleasantly) surprised. Finding the way to each other’s beds didn’t take long after that. Changmin is the definition of passion, of kissing until you’re gasping for air, of laughing until your stomach hurts. He’s a multitude, everything at once, and his everything fits Sunwoo’s everything in a way Sunwoo would never expect. They treat each other as equals, seeing the same drive, the same thirst for everything life has to offer in the other’s eyes. If Sunwoo is fire, Changmin is the wood that fuels it. If Changmin is passion, Sunwoo is the heart that bleeds with it.
Eric is something else entirely. Approachable, friendly Eric, who gives his all to everything, unashamed, untamed. Sunwoo didn’t expect them to become friends per se; where Sunwoo tried his best to act cool and collected, Eric couldn’t care less about restraint, making all of Sunwoo’s efforts seem pointless. But they do grow closer, being the same age, being lumped together as the maknaes, sharing parts in songs. And in the midst of all that, Sunwoo learns to really see Eric; the hard work, the sweat and the tears that Eric is never ashamed of, the constant need for reassurance that goes unspoken most of the time if one is not paying attention. Sunwoo finds out one day early on, when Eric has a stomach bug and is absent from practice, just how big and important his presence is. It’s grounding, necessary. Sunwoo admires him, but he needs him, too. He doesn’t use words to say it, but he lets Eric know. He hugs him, feels Eric melt against his arms; he holds his hand, feels Eric’s fingers intertwine with his own. As loud and as absurd as Eric can be, he respects boundaries too much, and Sunwoo doesn’t realize just how touch-starved Eric is until Sunwoo is the one touching him. Their conversations, the ones under the covers, late at night, when it feels like no one can hear them but the stars somewhere above, are as raw as anything gets. Sunwoo allows himself to be vulnerable, shares insecurities like one would to a best friend, and Eric responds in kind, opens his heart and lets Sunwoo see all there is to see within him. He never expected them to be where they are, confidants, two halves of the same whole, yet here they are. With Eric, Sunwoo learns that sex feels a lot more intimate when it’s with someone whose heart you know like the palm of your hand.
So Sunwoo has soulmates. He knows that for a fact, isn’t scared to admit it now that he understands it. He needs these people in his life, each one so different and yet so alike in the way they feel like home. He could be anywhere in the world, but as long as he has them, these four people, these four souls, it would still feel like he’s home. Sunwoo loves them and he knows they love him too, and that is all he needs.
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