Bittersweet Memories (A Stray Kids Short Story Collection)

Magic II

     2006.

     

     Soulmates were one of Minho's biggest aggravations.

     As a kid, he just doesn't get it. He knows his parents are Soulmates. But he has no idea what that connotes.

     "A Soulmate is like your other half," his mother patiently explains to him. "Someone who truly understands you. Think about it this way. There is someone in this world who is waiting just for you and you are waiting for them. You're made for each other."

     Minho frowns. "Like... a lover?"

     His mother scrunches her eyes together, thinking. "It can be a lover, like your father and I. But it doesn't have to be. Lovers can understand each other, but so can friends, so can siblings. The stars have matched you with someone from birth, and it can be anybody."

     Minho still doesn't get it. He knows the stars, sees them every night in his small town sky. How can such little lights in the infinite sky match two people together? That too, for everyone in the world. It's too big of a job, too taxing, and a bright spot in the universe can't do it all.

     He expresses that concern to his mother. She sighs and then proceeds to search up Soulmates on the internet.

     A person ideally suited to another as a close friend or romantic partner.

     Minho doesn't know what "ideally" means. He doesn't understand "suited." He definitely doesn't understand how friends and lovers can be the same thing.

     His mother closes the laptop. "Just think about it as magic, Minho."

     But Minho doesn't believe in magic. Never has. He woke up when his father had tried to put money under his pillow when he lost his first tooth. For his first conscious Christmas, he sat out on his home porch under the snowfall, looking for a sled in the sky. He concluded that it doesn't exist.

     At this point, his mother just becomes agitated. "You'll figure it out, sweetie. You just have to wait."

     That's the only answer Minho ever gets. He asks everyone he knows (It's a small town. He knows everyone.) It's all the same.

     "The universe matched you with someone."

     "Like a string tying two people together."

     "It's fate."

     "It's magic ."

     Minho most certainly doesn't understand metaphors. He's quite tired of them. He doesn't get why people need to shower their words in fancy language when the core meaning is quick and easy. Perhaps that's why he's always leaned towards journalism. The news isn't fancy or colourful. It's black and white and something either is or isn't. But nobody can explain Soulmates to Minho without the euphemisms and fantasies that come with it.

     So when Minho is in the third grade, he doesn't think about Soulmates and doesn't know how to find one either. The only thing he focuses on is fishing out his art supplies for his class's special project.

     The blue pencil crayon is missing.

     Minho needs the blue pencil crayon. His project isn't complete without it. He's planned everything to the last detail and the colour blue is part of it. He's ruined without it. He can feel his body shaking from the lack of the pencil crayon in his sight.