Chapter Text
In this lifetime, everything is near perfect. Jonghyun grows up in a neighbourhood with a low crime rate, while Minhyun grows up next door. Unlike the last time, no one moves away. They go to school together, and fate pushes them together until they are in the same university. Staying with Jonghyun long-term is something new to Minhyun—he has to get used to the ‘organised messes’ and the sight of Jonghyun’s bed hair in the morning. Sometimes they fight about who left the last mug in the sink and forgot to wash it, but it is always Jonghyun who winds up cleaning up because Minhyun is adamant that he would always clean up after himself. Jonghyun gets irritated with Minhyun when he studies in the library, doesn’t eat, and comes home with gastric pains. He scolds him, then fixes them a warm pot of ramen (which only he will eat) because they are both broke students with no trust fund.
But Minhyun is content, listening to lectures about alien activity and having Jonghyun’s hand curled up in his next to him. Nothing has been established, but people generally accept that when there is Jonghyun, there is Minhyun most likely around the corner. They’re taking it slow, and seem to no longer be in life threatening situations, which is a relief.
You’d think Minhyun would have grown tired of Jonghyun’s constant presence in his life. Yet every day is a new adventure, and he knows something new about his best friend each day.
He knows how Jonghyun likes his vanilla lattes, which bookstore he frequents for the cheapest vintage manga, how long it takes for Jonghyun to walk home from the library during exam season, and how Jonghyun likes to paint to destress. He also knows that Jonghyun is a morning person, needs less sleep than he does, is cranky in the late afternoons, and how he enjoys coddling his junior, Guanlin. There is a backstory there, about how Jonghyun remembers a kid servant helping him in his second lifetime. He’s not sure of the details, but Jonghyun takes extra good care of him. He’s not jealous, not really.
Minhyun takes all of this down into his journal, worn and tattered. It’s his favourite one, the same brand as the one he used to write lyrics in when he was a singer. Those were good days. He is content.
Jonghyun leans over the kitchen counter to ask him to taste some stew he’s making. Minhyun’s mouth falls open on instinct, and Jonghyun blows lightly on the spoon and feeds him.
“It’s good,” he murmurs, placing his pen down. Jonghyun grins brightly, and takes a long swig from the glass of milk he has on the counter. Minhyun laughs at the white moustache covering his lips and swipes it off with his finger. Jonghyun’s smile turns sheepish, and Minhyun sighs, coming forward to kiss him over the counter.
It’s warm, soft, and familiar—he feels like he is coming home. Jonghyun parts his lips slightly, and he leans back.
“You should put the spoon down,” he advises warmly, “and turn that fire off.” Jonghyun laughs at that and turns away to turn off the stove. Minhyun’s attention flickers, there is something calling out to him on his dashboard. He focuses—
“Do we need to charge you again?” Jonghyun asks, turning off the lights in the kitchen. Minhyun smiles and shrugs.
“No wonder I was feeling a little sleepy and sentimental,” he puts it at that. Jonghyun sighs and catches his wrist with the gentlest touch, leading him to his room. He lies down, fumbling for the cable tucked under the pillow. Jonghyun guides his fingers to it, helping him plug it in when it is clear that he is too tired to function normally. His vision becomes a little clearer once he starts charging, and Jonghyun presses his lips to his forehead and wishes him goodnight. He huffs out a breath, “Stay.” His best friend turns and rolls his eyes.
“You’ll shock me,” he warns, and Minhyun beams.
“Have a little faith in technology, Jonghyun-ah,” he returns, and Jonghyun laughs.
“I’ll brush my teeth and wash my face,” he decides. “Not everyone has perfect skin like you.”
“There is no one like me,” Minhyun shoots back. Jonghyun laughs, then ducks out of the door to wash up before bed.
Minhyun closes his eyes. He doesn’t need to sleep for very long, just log off the internet. Their bill has been going up lately with how much he’s been active, but Jonghyun normally pats his hand and tells him that it’s okay.
Jonghyun is an older model, not as new as he is. Before his specifications were introduced, most parents chose the Jonghyun’s model as a guide for their own children. He’s unique, a little more so, because he is the test experiment for the first automaton with the ability to sustain himself through food, or through charging. Jonghyun’s still human, just… advanced. Better sight, better hearing, better everything, essentially. The perfect human, built for a perfect world.
“Hey,” Jonghyun says, sliding into the sheets and wrapping an arm loosely around his waist, “I can see you thinking.”
Minhyun’s hand raises and lands in his lap weakly, but Jonghyun understands. Jonghyun always understands—he takes his palm and rests it against his cheek. Jonghyun is warm.
“Sleepy?” he asks, and he hums softly in his throat. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
“Mmphf,” he tries to protest, but Jonghyun grip is firm and unrelenting. His soulmate reaches out and uses the pads of his fingers to smooth his eyelids closed, and then there is blackness and—
—nothing.
When he opens his eyes, the window is slightly open. There is the gentlest of a spring breeze drifting through the room. Minhyun glances down and sees Jonghyun pressed up against him, eyes closed. Softly, he nudges him.
“You’re up,” Jonghyun says, eyes closed.
“You could have started studying,” Minhyun whispers, his voice a harsh croak. “You didn’t have to wait for me.”
Jonghyun unfurls and stretches, tilting his neck as if popping his joints. Minhyun watches him warm up for the day, memorising the curve of his jaw and the slant of his eyes. He resembles a little bit like the cat they saw in the bushes on the way home the other day.
“I waited anyway,” Jonghyun retaliates, shuffling closer so that he can press their foreheads together before moving away. “Now, get up. Graduation examinations are coming.”
Minhyun watches as Jonghyun slides easily off the bed, standing up and padding his way over to the toilet so he can wash up. Minhyun scrubs at his face and gets up as well, making the bed with hospital corners, because that’s the way he was brought up. Not really brought up, but it’s the only way he knows how to make a bed.
“We’re meeting Seongwoo at the college cafe,” Jonghyun orders from the bathroom, where he can hear the sound of running water. “Can you butter a piece of bread for me? With peanut butter!”
“Yeah,” he calls back, walking briskly to the kitchen so he can make breakfast. Two cups of coffee into the matching white mugs, two slices of bread laid out onto the blue plates with the gold rim.
“Thanks, Minhyun-ah,” Jonghyun’s voice is muffled from where he is scrubbing at his hair with a fluffy blue towel. He looks adorable like that, like a soft animal stepping out from the hose. There’s that disgruntled expression on his face too. “I think Daniel and Jaehwan are coming after class.”
“Isn’t Hyunbin working at the cafe today?” Minhyun asks, sipping his coffee. Jonghyun stops to think, then nods and sits down at the tiny table opposite him. “We’ll be in full attendance today.”
“Yeah,” Jonghyun agrees, a smile playing on his lips. “Just like the old times.”
“What was that they used to call us?” he asks, knowing that Jonghyun’s body is looking at him, but not so much so his mind. He knows Jonghyun is looking far away, into the past, into nearly three centuries ago. He knows the answer to his question, but sometimes…
Sometimes Jonghyun forgets. Sometimes Jonghyun forgets that they have lived this life, in different dimensions, different universes, different realities. Sometimes Jonghyun forgets the lives they’ve had together; and the lives they’ve spent apart; and they lives they’ve spent alive; and the lives they’ve spent dead. Sometimes, Jonghyun forgets. It breaks Minhyun’s heart a little, but it’s okay. They make things work. Things work, but they are not perfect, and that is perfectly fine with him.
“Justice League,” his partner murmurs, face uncertain when he looks up at him. “That was the name, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” Minhyun agrees, reaching out to pat his hand. Jonghyun’s hand flips up automatically to take his hand, intertwining their fingers together. It’s a perfect fit, just as he knew it would be. “We had fun.”
“Good times,” Jonghyun echoes, expression a little wistful. Minhyun clenches his hand once, and a look passes between the both of them. Words, unspoken. “Hey, Minhyun?”
“Yeah?” he asks wryly. The same look of uncertain longing crosses Jonghyun’s face. Minhyun wants to kiss that look of his face and replace it with the smile he loves so, so much. The smile that spreads from his eyes and make the stars in his irises shine brighter. Jonghyun opens his mouth—
“How many lifetimes do we have left?”
Jonghyun’s question leaves him reeling for a bit. He knows the number left; a solid zero. He knows that Jonghyun is ultimately an advanced human, that he has his very own expiry date. He knows that he is not human, that he will live forever unless he chooses to terminate his life. He knows that Jonghyun is losing his memories of the past twenty four lifetimes they’ve had together.
Truth to be told, he had been losing his memories too. But this body, and this brain, brings forward all the memories, almost like a refresher—a crash course in lifetimes, if you will. He smiles lopsidedly at his best friend, his brother, his lover, his soulmate.
“An eternity of lifetimes to go, Jonghyun-ah,” he promises, nudging Jonghyun’s cooling cup of coffee nearer to him. “Don’t worry, we’ve got plenty of time.”
When the time comes, when Jonghyun’s ‘expiry date’ comes—
He will know what to do.
It’s true, what they say, about love
being an ocean.
Love is something bigger than yourself;
wide, vast, unrelenting, overflowing.
It is tossing yourself into the violent, turbulent waters,
and emerging refreshed, wet, salty,
your eyes stinging and your limbs heavy.
It is taking the risk, enjoying the thrill,
hating the waves that threaten to drown you,
and fighting your way to the surface so you can
breathe.
And if the time is just right,
if you emerge just in time to see the sun
rise or set beneath the waters,
painting everything
in glorious gold and reds and pinks and oranges and yellows,
then you will have found your harbour.
Your voyage ends exactly where you started;
Smiling faces and warm hands and
a kiss to your temple,
and the whisper:
“Welcome home.”
A safe haven, where you will remain
for the rest of your days,
all of them,
forever.