Chapter Text
On Christmas Eve of 2018, Oh Seungmin spent it alone with his brother. His father and mother were away, leaving them for a trip to Namhae.
His brother had angered them the week before, thus his father had cancelled his ticket in anger. And because Seungmin was a very good younger brother, he told his parents to cancel his ticket as well. Because in his mind, the rightest thing to do was to stood by his brother. In a fight with parents, siblings should always have each others’ back; it was the normal-people-impulse. And secretly, Seungmin hoped that his parents noticed this—that he was not only a good son but also a good brother. That was what parents wanted the most right? Parents would always want their children to get along with each other, so when they finally left the world, they wouldn’t have to die with worries that their children would be lonely.
That made sense, right? In his mind, it did.
But it didn’t go exactly as he expected. When he thought his parents would praise him, they simply grounded him as well, and eventually left him too instead of cancelling the vacation all together. Because families stayed together, right? No one should get left behind. Every single movie he watched growing up told him those messages numerous times. He was too naive to realize that movies were not real lives and he was not the main character.
Seungmin locked himself in his room then, devastated.
But eventually he was hungry, and found his brother making dinner for both him and himself at midnight, knowing too well that his baby brother always eat so much; there was no way he could skip dinner.
His brother cooked very good, but because this hobby of his couldn’t secure him a promising, high-paying job, their parents didn’t praise him much. If his parents signed him for more lessons, he might be able to become even more good, but they wouldn’t even give him a chance.
So that night, after they ate in silence, Seungmin praised him and helped wash the dishes, because those were the right things to do.
His brother wiped the dining table clean. Then he diligently fetched two cups from the cabinet, a definite part of his mother's porcelain collection. The vintage flowery pattern contrasted the modern kitchen in the Oh’s residence. He placed the cups on the dining table and moved to the alcohol pantry. Now, a collection, his father's. His finger hovered and danced amongst the bottle, sharp nails making a clicking sound when he tapped it against the glass.
“Which do you want, Seungmin? Gin or vodka?” He took two bottles and inspected the contents of them.
Seungmin whipped his head quickly, mouth agape. “Hyung, we shouldn’t—”
“Well, there's more gin so there’s less chance they'll notice. But the reason there's more gin is because I put water in it last week.” He laughed. “Tell you what. We'll mix in a little of both, okay?”
Seungmin rinsed off his hands and dried them hastily on his clothes before sitting down, following his brother. Despite everything, he wanted this.
So his brother poured them the mix and thrusted the cup into his closely-leaned curious faces. “Here, gin and vodka and a bit of water.”
"Thanks, hyung.”
They drank in silence for a while, the porcelain cup sitting strangely in their hands, far too delicate for what they were being used for. Seungmin took another sip. It burned his throat, but he swallowed anyway.
“It’s suffocating, right?”
Seungmin put his cup down.
“What is?”
His brother shrugged, rolling the alcohol around in his own cup. Seungmin stared at him, but his brother didn't look back.
“Expecting praise. Expecting things to always go your way because you tried so hard for them to.” He gave a small, humorless laugh. “You study hard, you behave, you do what they ask, you don't cause trouble. And somehow you start thinking that if you just do everything right, they'll love you the way you want them to.”
Seungmin's fingers tightened around the handle of his cup.
What could his brother even know about that feeling?
He always had thought his brother was everything he shouldn't become. The disappointing son. The one who couldn't live up to what their parents wanted and made them angry and blame each other and fight. The one who kept choosing things their parents couldn't understand and then acted surprised when they were angry about it.
Seungmin had been cruel to his brother about it sometimes.
He had looked at his brother and thought, Why can't you just try harder?
But that night was cold and windy, it brought a strange kind of realization—one that occurred when he saw that he was now home alone with his brother despite everything. Despite his good intention and despite his records of always trying hard; as though trying harder was the only thing separating a good child from a bad one.
His stomach twisted hearing his own thoughts.
Oh Seungmin and his brother were not opposites, they were the same side of two coins. The realization made him nauseous now. Perhaps it was due to the gin and vodka and the water.
“Hyung...”
His brother looked at him.
Seungmin opened his mouth, but nothing came out. There were too many things he suddenly wanted to apologize for. Though, his brother seemed to understand anyway because he reached across the table and ruffled Seungmin's hair, the gesture nostalgic. Ever since he outgrew his brother, he rarely got his hair ruffled anymore.
His brother smiled faintly.
“My Seungmin, everything will be alright. Even when it’s not in the way you expected it to be.”
Seungmin's face crumpled before he could stop it. He covered his mouth, but the first sob still escaped between his fingers. He cried quietly at first, embarrassed even though there was no one there to impress anymore. Then his shoulders began to shake, and he couldn't make himself stop.
The truth was, Seungmin had never wanted to be resilient.
He had never wanted to be the child who could handle everything alone—never wanted to be praised for being mature, reasonable, accommodating, or easy to raise. Seungmin didn't want to be the good son who never caused trouble, the good brother who always gave something up, the good friend who never asked for too much. He just wanted a life that didn't require him to earn his place in it. And more than anything, he wanted to love and be loved with ease.
That Christmas Eve, sitting across from his brother with his mother's porcelain cups and his father's watered-down liquor between them, Seungmin finally understood that perhaps that was all he had ever wanted.
•••
“Oh, there you are. I found you.”
The words were the same.
The voice was the same, too—the familiar warmth of Kim Jungsu carrying across the empty natatorium as though this were any other evening. Seungmin had heard it so many times that he could have repeated the exact intonation himself.
But this time, Seungmin didn't answer. He remained where he was, staring at the dark surface of the pool. His shoulders were tense, his eyes swollen from crying, and there was a heaviness in his chest that made even breathing feel suffocating.
Jungsu stopped.
“Min-ah?”
Seungmin finally looked over his shoulder. “Yeah?” he croaked out.
Jungsu's expression changed immediately. “Have you been crying?”
Seungmin shook his head. It was a terrible lie. His eyes were red, his cheeks were still damp but not from the pool water, and there was no way Jungsu could possibly believe him. Yet Jungsu didn't press. He only studied Seungmin for another moment, staying nearby, watching him with quiet concern.
“You’re acting strange tonight,” he finally said.
Seungmin looked down at the water.
“Really?”
“Yeah.” Jungsu hesitated for a moment. “Something happened?”
Seungmin's fingers curled beneath the water. He nodded, but couldn’t say it anyway. His small mouth formed a pout from Jungsu’s point of view, and like this, Seungmin knew he resembled a petulant child—a difficult child. Quickly, he looked up, then shook his head, trying hard to convince both him and Jungsu that there was nothing wrong.
Still, the upperclassman looked skeptical.
“Let me join you.”
Kim Jungsu unbuttoned his shirt and took it off along with the t-shirt underneath. His trousers were off too, leaving him only in his boxers.
Jungsu settled at the edge of the pool, lowering his feet into the water and waiting a moment for the cold to settle. He winced slightly, then laughed under his breath as he splashed some water over his arms and chest. Seungmin watched him without meaning to, blushing when he realized he’d been staring at Jungsu’s half naked body. It was alright when they were younger and used to swim together. But now, it felt foreign all over. Simultaneously familiar and new. There was something almost unbearable about seeing Jungsu behave so normally when Seungmin carried the weight of dozens of nights that he could never remember.
He looked away before Jungsu could catch him staring.
Jungsu eventually eased himself into the water, shivering a little. Swiftly, he pushed himself away from the pool wall with a lazy kick, letting the water carry him toward Seungmin. The gentle strokes barely disturbed the stillness of the pool, leaving only a trail of ripples spreading behind him.
He giggled. “We haven’t done this in a while.”
Seungmin watched him approach, strangely unable to look away this time. Jungsu stopped in front of him, close enough that their paddling feet nearly brushed beneath the water.
“We also haven’t done that in a while.”
Seungmin tilted his head. “Done what?”
“Sharing secrets.”
The words made something in Seungmin soften. To think that Jungsu remembered a small promise they made before—about being honest when something happened, and about not bearing the burden of secrets alone.
Jungsu floated beside him, occasionally making small movements with his arms and legs to keep himself afloat. The water rocked gently around them. He looked thoughtful for a moment, deciding which secret would be worth telling first. There was a slight change in the gleam of his eyes when he found it.
“Oh, last year, back in August...” He blinked a few times. “I broke my leg, remember?”
“Yes, you fell from the window of your room on the second floor.”
“Do you want to know what happened?”
Seungmin nodded, watching him expectantly.
Jungsu hesitated again, almost as though he were reconsidering whether the story was worth telling. Then he gave a sheepish smile.
“I was smoking.”
Seungmin's eyebrows lifted, and then he tried to straightened his expression again, feeling a bit hypocrite all of a sudden.
“Well, I tried to,” Jungsu quickly corrected himself. “But then I heard my father's car pulling up in the driveway, and I got scared he'd find out. So I tried to hide it, but I lost my balance while I was sitting on the window frame.”
He laughed quietly at his own stupidity, the sound echoing faintly across the otherwise empty pool.
“The first thing I did after getting out of the hospital was find that unlit cigarette and match and hide them. Embarrassing, right?”
Seungmin frowned.
“It’s them, right? Your friends,” he said it almost under his breath, eyes drifting toward the darkened windows as though the boys in question might somehow appear there. “I don’t like them.”
“Yes, I know, you never seemed to like the boys from my class.” Jungsu's mouth curved into a teasing smile. “Are you jealous?”
Seungmin rolled his eyes, immediately paddling backward. It made the older boy laugh even louder.
“I’m just kidding, Min-ah. Don’t run away.”
He barely made it a few strokes before Jungsu caught up with him. His hand closed gently around Seungmin's arm, stopping his retreat without much effort.
Now, the teasing had disappeared completely, leaving behind something much more vulnerable. For a brief moment, Seungmin could see the boy beneath all of Jungsu's easy smiles—the one who had once lay on Seungmin's bed with tears in his eyes, struggling to put a name to the parts of himself he had been taught to be afraid of. Seungmin had never known how to fix that for him. He could only stay.
And now, beneath the water, Jungsu's fingers slowly slipped from his arm until they found Seungmin's hand instead. Their fingers curled together where the surface of the pool hid them from everything beyond it.
Seungmin looked down.
Perhaps that was the only way Jungsu knew how to hold on to something without feeling exposed—where nobody could see it. Beneath the water, beneath the surface, where their joined hands could remain their secret even while they sat beside each other in plain sight. Seungmin understood. He loved him enough to let him keep that secret for as long as he needed. That night, Jungsu’s hand was warmer than the water surrounding them. And Seungmin had ruined softer things by holding them too tightly. So he stayed very still in front of Jungsu, keeping their hands underwater, pretending he was not already afraid of this moment turning into memory. If nobody knew, then nobody could take him away.
“I was curious,” Jungsu said after a while, his thumb brushing absentmindedly over Seungmin's knuckles. “And I admit that I've been losing direction lately. It’s easy to fall into something self-destructing when you don’t know what to do, Seungmin.”
He gave a small shrug, though the uncertainty remained in his eyes. “That's my secret. What's yours?”
Seungmin looked up. Jungsu was watching him carefully now.
“You look like you think a lot. Sometimes I wonder what you're thinking about,” the older boy continued when Seungmin only stared at him. The cold had begun to redden Jungsu's nose, and he bit his lip briefly, trying to stop it from trembling.
“You often look troubled, Min-ah.”
“Did I?” Seungmin laughed, but it sounded all too hollow. “What should I be troubled with? I’m good-looking and I’m smart. My parents and my brother love me, and I’m not alone at school.”
“Then, I don’t know. I could be wrong.”
“You often are.” Seungmin smiled, though it faltered at the edges. “But it’s a good thing that you’re not the type to deny it.”
Jungsu huffed, smiling. “I’m a confessional human being. I have to admit.”
“Yes.” Seungmin's gaze fell to the water between them. “Being around you makes me feel like I have to confess many things as well.”
“Then go on.” Jungsu said it so easily. There was no hesitation in his voice, no expectation that Seungmin should have the right words prepared. “You can tell me anything.”
Seungmin swallowed. For a moment, he thought he could. The words were there somewhere, in the space the nearest to where his brain stored all of his reflexes. He was close to breaking down; he knew it. He had carried them through 72 evenings, rearranged them in his head, screamed them into pillows even before this, whispered them into the dark, and swallowed them back down before they ever reached his tongue. He knew exactly what he wanted to say.
But he simply didn't know how to say it without changing everything. His eyes began to sting then.
“I don't know how, hyung.”
He took a deep breath. In his mind, every cell of him screamed at him to give up, but his heart was too stubborn with the walls it had built around itself. This was the most honest he’d been in a while.
Seungmin was lost. And it had been a while since he was well on his way into destroying himself into broken pieces, as fragile as that porcelain cup on that Christmas Eve.
As if he noticing this, Jungsu quickly opened his arms without saying anything, an invitation so familiar that Seungmin's chest ached. Seungmin hesitated only for a moment before swimming closer and letting himself into the embrace. His heart was beating so hard that he was certain Jungsu could hear it.
For a while, neither of them spoke. Seungmin simply stayed there, listening to the quiet rhythm of Jungsu's breathing and the soft movement of the water around them.
“What’s gotten you so troubled tonight, Min?”
Again, Min. You’re good at this.
The thought came almost instinctively, cruel only because it was true.
Try again. Swim again. Cry again. Say goodbye again. Love him again.
You practiced and then you became good. This was something you were good at, Min.
Seungmin buried his face against the crook of Jungsu’s neck. The familiar warmth and steady presence of him made his chest ache in a way that 72 loops had never managed to dull.
Maybe again meant something else. Not repeating the same mistake. Certainly, not finding a better way to keep Jungsu.
He felt a hand came up to the back of his head, fingers slipping gently through his damp hair. Jungsu stroked his hair slowly, once, then again. Like this, skin to skin, it was almost as if they had fused together. And below, their legs kept paddling underwater, knocking against each other. Their faces reflected all the lights there were in the natatorium, fluorescent and glowing. Outside, the meteorites could start falling and the sky could crumble down and still, the stars would still be visible in Jungsu’s eyes. They were the main characters now. He believed in the universe that didn’t care and people that did; Jungsu that did.
His throat tightened painfully.
“We’ve been here 72 times, hyung.”
The words came out almost as a sob. Seungmin clutched harder, holding onto Jungsu as though the moment he loosened his arms, the clock would take him away again.
“We’re in a—we’re in a time loop right now.” His voice shook. “This is the 73rd loop.”
Jungsu’s hand stopped.
Seungmin pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes. He was prepared for confusion or disbelief. For Jungsu to laugh and tell him that he was being ridiculous.
But Jungsu only stared at him. There was no laughter in his expression. Only concern, and something painfully close to sympathy. His arms remained around Seungmin’s waist, as though he didn't know what else to do except keep holding him. Seungmin's own arms were still loosely around Jungsu's neck.
“And what happened?” Jungsu asked quietly.
Seungmin blinked, his mouth trembling.
“What did we do?”
Everything.
His voice cracked. “I did everything I could. We did everything we could, hyung.”
Seungmin tried to be as eloquent and calm as ever, but one glance at Jungsu’s worried expression told him he could no longer hide it. All the things he had spent so long keeping tucked away—the fear, the desperation, the terrible certainty that he was going to lose Jungsu—were spilling out of him now.
“But everything just isn't right.”
Seungmin stared at him, his gaze moving from one brown eye to the other.
“Every time the clock strikes 9, I lose you, and every time it turns back to 8, I have to meet you for the first time again. You smile at me like nothing has happened—as if I didn’t hurt you and make you angry. I’m the only one who remembers, and I’m the only one who bears the pain. And I… I don't know how much longer I can do this, hyung.”
His voice grew quieter with each word and in his mind, a thought kept ringing loud. Maybe a high school student shouldn't have been capable of loving someone like this.
This kind of love was preserved for soulmates. Seungmin shouldn't have thought about spending forever with Jungsu. He shouldn't have thought about holding hands, eating together, and wrapping his arms around Jungsu. The thought of being in the same bed as Jungsu was supposed to be forbidden but every night he wished Jungsu was beside him to stroke his head to sleep. This kind of love—the one that transcends through time—was supposed to be shared between people who already know how deeply they love each other. Not them.
But he had. God, he had wanted all of it.
People in retirement homes sometimes said they wanted to go back to high school and fall in love again. Adults liked to dismiss teenage love as puppy love, something temporary and foolish that would eventually be replaced by something more serious. But perhaps they only said that because, somewhere in themselves, they missed being 17. They missed the years when loving someone could still feel like the most important thing in the world.
Seungmin understood it now.
This was the time they'd want to go time travel to.
Because Seungmin had this feeling that if he were to let go of Jungsu now, he'd still keep him in a form of regret. By then, he wouldn’t even have the courage to keep in touch, or even say his name, or even just write his name to test a pen. This could be the last time he ever experienced a love this genuine—untainted by disappointments and that one foot on the door.
But Jungsu had to leave. And Seungmin had to learn how to let him. So his eyes burned. He blinked hard, but the tears came out anyway.
“I just… I don't know how to be the one left behind, hyung. What should I do?” he sobbed.
The image of Jungsu blurred before him, drifting away. Seungmin took a shaky breath. No, please. Not now.
Seungmin always had this feeling that he could never maintain a far away friend. They always went too quickly, just as he started to care deeply for them.
It happened too many times.
Seungmin had seen his friends come and go. And for those who went, they never came back, and he never reached out. Maybe he did. Never ended well. Because it was different now that they weren't in the same school, the same club activities, or anything that forced them to be in close proximity. Because Seungmin built his friendship over context. And when the context no longer existed, he was clueless. Nothing about him was interesting enough to keep people at arms reach.
“I'm sorry for everything you couldn't remember.” His voice trembled. “And... I'm sorry I never told you the truth.”
Even though it might be confusing for him, Jungsu looked as though he were trying not to cry, too. Seungmin looked at him for a long moment, as if he were trying to memorize every part of his face before the clock could take him away again.
“I like you, hyung.”
His breath caught.
“I am guilty of it. And I miss you even when you're here.” A tear slipped down his cheek. “I didn't know what else to do except keep asking the world for more time with you.”
He swallowed. The question barely made it past his throat.
“Is it really that forbidden?” His voice trembled. “Am I really cursed?”
Jungsu quickly shook his head.
“No, never.” He said it so simply that Seungmin almost couldn't understand it. “If it’s forbidden... I don't think time would give us this many chances.”
Seungmin stared at him, his lips trembling. His voice was small, breaking in the middle of the simple question. “So this isn't a curse?”
“No, Min-ah. Not a curse.”
“But it feels like it! Like a… like a—punishment.”
“What is there to be punished?”
“I don’t know…”
Jungsu shook his head again, firmer this time. He took a deep breath, his eyes lowering for a moment before returning to Seungmin's.
“I spent so much time wondering whether there was something wrong with me for feeling this way, Min. I thought I had to figure myself out first. I thought I had to punish myself and I thought I needed to understand everything before I could let myself care about someone.”
His smile was faint and a little sad. “But I kept worrying about you anyway, and not once I thought of the punishment ever again.”
Seungmin blinked his tears away, wanting to see him clearer.
“I kept looking for you. I kept wondering if you'd eaten, whether you'd gotten home safely, whether your shoulder was hurting after practice.” He laughed softly through the emotion in his voice. “I guess I was already caring about you before I figured out what that meant.”
Jungsu's fingers tightened gently around his.
“I like you, Seungmin-ah.”
Seungmin's lips parted, but nothing came out.
“So... be my boyfriend,” Jungsu whispered, as scared as Seungmin was for this moment to pass by in a blink of an eye. “Let's talk on the phone every night. Tell me when you're having a match. I'll come support you. You said there's a national qualifier in June, right? I'll be there.”
Seungmin's eyes began to fill up with tears again.
“Whatever you want, whatever you need, tell me. I'll listen. Let's find a day where we're both free and go on a date. With no double meaning, have ramyeon at my place if you have time. Swim race with me but let me win once in a while. Or win, always win and be the nation's number one. Whatever happens, just… just be with me, Min-ah.
“We won’t lose each other again. And if we do, I can always find you again and again.”
Seungmin looked down, blinking rapidly.
He had imagined this moment so many times that he had eventually stopped imagining it at all, finding it too forbidden, too hopeful and too far away. In every version, there had been something he needed to fix first. Something he needed to say better; some reason Jungsu couldn't possibly feel the same way. He had prepared himself for losing him. And ultimately, he had never prepared himself for being chosen. What should he do now? This was beyond him. His brain was overtaken by his heart.
“What should I do? You’re going somewhere else while I stayed here. There was no other way. We can’t—I can’t escape this. I know I will be sad and lonely for a while. But at the same time...” His voice came out embarrassingly small. He looked back at Jungsu, forcing himself to hold his gaze even as another tear slipped down his cheek.
“I can't handle not being someone to you, Jungsu-hyung.”
Jungsu sighed in relief, smiling a bit bigger. “You’ve always been someone to me since forever, Min-ah. Best friend, and now… boyfriend.”
The word flustered him. It sounded too good to be true. But still, beneath it all, his worries had once overcome his mind. Just as every moment of happiness happened in his life, it had always been followed by something terrible. It was more than a premonition—Seungmin had always feared it the most when he became too happy. Because he knew the next tragedy would feel worse in comparison. So he clung to whatever his hands could grasp out of the happiness in front of him.
“But what do I do once the clock turns 9 again?”
“Find me. Then, tell me everything all over again, Min.” Jungsu smiled through the tears in his eyes. There was no hesitation in his answer. His hand tightened around Seungmin's. “And I'll confess to you again.”
Seungmin tried to believe him. He really did.
But as the seconds crawled closer to nine, panic rose in his chest all over again. He clutched at Jungsu, pulling him into another desperate embrace as though he could anchor him to the present through sheer force. His shoulders shook.
“I like you, hyung.” His voice came out frantic. “I love you, I love you. If this is wrong, I would defend your name to God myself if it were your love for me that kept you from heaven. I love you, I swear.”
Then he pulled away. Seungmin kept glancing toward the clock, pupils trembling and his breath quickened. His body shook but not from the clock. Jungsu noticed and gently cupped his cheek, turning his face back toward him.
“I know, Min-ah. Look at me.”
“We have no time.”
“Yes, we have.”
“No—”
“Seungmin-ah…” Jungsu softly called him, his tone so soft silenced the ringing in his ears. The older boy brushed the tears from beneath his eyes with his thumb, then rested his hands against his cheek.
“I'm here.”
Seungmin's breath trembled.
“I love you too, Min-ah.”
Jungsu watched him. Seungmin thinks he was not brave enough. What Seungmin didn’t know was that Jungsu wasn't either. But one of them had to step forward, and Jungsu being the eldest one between the two of them seemed to know what he should do. Slowly, he leaned closer.
Seungmin had every chance to step back and didn’t.
“Can I?” Jungsu asked, barely out loud.
Seungmin thought, I am not brave. But his hands found Jungsu’s cheeks, soft and cold from the water. He leaned forward and kissed him. Their noses bumped and Seungmin made an embarrassing noise. Jungsu pulled back just enough to look at him and he was smiling, and then he laughed, this quiet surprised thing, and Seungmin smiled too because Jungsu’s smile was infection despite everything, and it was not graceful at all and it was the best thing that has ever happened to him.
“Sorry,” he said.
Jungsu shook his head, that smile still there, and kissed him again. Slower and warmer. Seungmin’s hand slid down to his shoulders before coming back up to the back of Jungsu’s head. And the older boy’s thumb was doing this small careful thing just behind his ear and Seungmin stopped thinking about the clock, the loop, and their goodbye. He stopped thinking, mostly. It was just this swimming pool and this boy and the particular feeling of finally.
The metal door creaked. Or maybe he thought he heard it creaking.
They broke apart quickly. Seungmin dropped back onto the water until his chin was close to being submerged. They were both a little out of breath and Jungsu’s hair was slightly wrong and Seungmin did that.
Jungsu moved first, without thinking, he crowded in closer, dropping his head and using the width of his shoulders to completely shield Seungmin from the door. Seungmin froze. Jungsu was only about a centimeter taller, but this close, with him lowering his body, Seungmin’s face leveled with his shoulder, and they held their breath.
There was nothing. But neither of them moved until the silence assured them completely. Then Seungmin tilted his head to check past Jungsu’s shoulder.
Still that same metal door.
He looked back at Jungsu, finding that he was already looking at him. Neither of them says anything for a second.
Then they both started laughing, quiet and a little helpless, and Seungmin pressed his forehead against Jungsu’s shoulder because he didn’t know what else to do with it, and Jungsu made a sound that was almost a laugh but softer, and something about it felt like the easiest thing that had happened between them in years.
Seungmin could still feel Jungsu's arms around him when the older boy broke the silence. His voice was gentle as he jutted his chin towards the clock. “Look, Min-ah. It’s past 9pm now.”
It made him jerk his head so bad he nearly got whiplash. The blaring red clock read 21:01. Seungmin stared at it, then at Jungsu, then back at the clock—back and forth. His face crumpled, then he buried himself against Jungsu again, crying harder than before.
Jungsu laughed softly, patting him on the back to console him even for a little. “What do I do? Even when you're crying, you still look so cute, Min-ah.”
Seungmin whined and hid his face. “Don't say that...”
Jungsu gently ruffled his damp hair. “Okay, but you're the cutest when you smile.”
Finally, Seungmin looked up at him, eyes red and cheeks wet.
“I want to see your smile every day, Min.”
Eventually, they climbed out of the pool and changed back into their clothes. The natatorium felt strangely ordinary now. The same fluorescent lights, the same wet travertine pool deck, and the same clock above the entrance. Except that it was past nine and nothing had reset.
The time loop had stopped.
Soon, they made their way to the parking lot—again, flying past the corridors into the open field—right to where Jungsu unlocked his bicycle. Seungmin climbed onto the back, settling into the familiar rear seat behind him.
For the first few minutes of Jungsu pedaling away, neither of them said anything. Though when the school gate came into view, Seungmin's breath caught, his arms tightened around Jungsu's waist.
He waited.
But nothing happened. They passed through the gate with ease. And soon, the scenery changed into the familiar street, remaining exactly where it was, continuing ahead of them, with shophouses lined up and the trees swaying. Seungmin slowly exhaled and Jungsu asked if there was anything still bothering his mind.
“You said I'm the cutest when I smile, hyung.”
“Yes, I did.”
“It's ironic that you said that on the night before you leave, don't you think so, hyung?”
Jungsu was quiet for a moment, thinking, probably. Then he finally settled, “I'll make you smile even when we're apart.”
His pedaling slowed as they reached the familiar road home. “It won't be easy. I know it'll hurt,” he continued, briefly glancing over his shoulder. “But we're greater than that, don’t you think so?”
Seungmin rested his cheek against his back. “Yes, I want to believe that.” It tickled his back, making him feeling the slight rumble when the older boy laughed.
“I love you, Min-ah,” Jungsu said, assuring.
They passed the same row of houses for what must have been the fifth time. Seungmin noticed that Jungsu wasn't turning toward home yet. Neither of them said anything about it. They both knew; neither of them wanted to arrive yet.
“I will love you again and again,” Jungsu said quietly.
Seungmin smiled against his back. “I know.” He tightened his arms around him.
“I love you too, Jungsu-hyung.”
Like the moon orbiting the earth, Jungsu and Seungmin then kept on riding in circles, never really reaching his destination. And at one point, Seungmin then realized that love truly was about repetition and clinging into every seconds of it.