Chapter Text
The point of life becomes increasingly less obvious when you lack goals and purpose. People are inherently propelled forward by these things; they cling to them, whether it be because they want to or an outside force encourages them to, and they allow their presence to guide them through each day. Without them, though, what is really left? Each day blends into the next, but not in a particularly satisfying way. You live through the motions because you feel like you have to, even though there isn’t much tying you to living at all. It’s a precarious game of push and pull, figuring out how much of nothing you can do in one day and still feel a strange connection to the things that bind you to the physical world. And surprisingly, or maybe unsurprisingly, it’s fucking exhausting.
Jeongin sighs into the darkness of his room. His body has woken him at 6am again, for no foreseeable reason. He thinks it must be a sick joke from his circadian rhythm, but would his body really be so cruel? As he clambers out of bed, sweaty and uncomfortable, he surmises that yes , his body would be that cruel. Normally, he’d lay on top of his covers, and toss and turn until he fell into a fitful sleep, but Jeongin doesn’t feel like doing that this time around. He pads to the kitchen, doing his best to keep quiet so as to not wake any of his family members, and pours himself a glass of water. He debates making breakfast too, but the effort it would take surpasses the quota of motivation he has, so he sets the glass in the sink and heads back to his room.
The door clicks shut behind him as he takes a seat on the floor. The wood is cool under his palms, and he lays back on top of it. His fan rattles on the ceiling, always dangerously close to coming off the ceiling due to its high speed. Jeongin closes his eyes, his arms limp at his sides as he lays under the cool air. It’s quiet, save for the fan, and Jeongin considers turning it off just to lay in silence. He doesn’t, though.
An hour ticks by, punctuated only by the sound of Jeongin’s breathing and the creaky hallway as his father leaves for work. His mother will be up shortly, and then his younger brother will follow. Jeongin sighs, bringing his hands up to his face to press his palms into his eyes. He doesn’t have anywhere to be. School’s over, it has been for several months, he hasn’t been able to get himself to land a job, and any of the friends he had in high school are now busy with college (with life, really). It’s lonely, Jeongin recognizes that, but he has always preferred being alone to being with lots of people.
Jeongin eventually finds himself back on his bed, laying flat on his stomach with his phone in front of his face. He scrolls through social media, consuming content faster than his brain can produce a single thought. It works, as early morning rolls into late and Jeongin realizes his family have all left. He sighs, rubbing his eyes as he finds his way to the kitchen. Breakfast. Coffee. Back to the bedroom. Jeongin goes through his morning routine with the same precision as always, making eggs, getting black coffee with sugar, sipping said coffee while he cleans up the dishes from the family members before him. He takes his coffee back to his room, setting it on his desk as he picks out clothes for the day. Even though he doesn’t plan on going anywhere, Jeongin still changes out of his pajamas. It’s strange, he recognizes that, but that doesn’t stop him.
A load of laundry in the washer later, Jeongin flings himself back onto his bed. He can practically hear his parents nagging him about doing something with his day, about how he is letting time waste away by “moping” around all day. Despite himself, it hurts to hear his family say that. It will always hurt.
Jeongin curls up around the pain in his chest. Sunlight filters in through his window, but he desperately wants to close the curtains. Draw them together and shut out the reality of the world, even if just for a few moments. That requires him to get up, and Jeongin remains on his bed, existing in the silence of his room until the sadness and loneliness become a little bit too loud.
When his family slowly begin to come back home, Jeongin hopes (prays) they don’t comment about his day. He wants them to talk about their days, if they met anyone new or encountered a frustrating coworker. He wants his younger brother to moan and groan about homework. Jeongin diligently helps his mom prepare dinner, like always, silent as he chops vegetables.
“What did you do today?” She asks. Her voice startles him out of his silent pity-party and he nearly slices his finger. He grits his teeth as he tries to justify her tone of voice.
“I kept up with the laundry today,” he replies kindly, depositing the chopped potatoes into the bowl. She clicks her tongue, and Jeongin tries to stop his hands from shaking as his stomach rolls.
“Is that all?” Her voice sounds a little distant. I didn’t do enough, he thinks bitterly. I’m never enough.
Jeongin focuses back on his vegetables, humming an unsteady yes.
“That restaurant down the street is still hiring,” she sighs suddenly, nudging him aside to finish the last of the chopping. His hands fall to his sides as he watches her.
“Okay,” he says. He feels useless. Nothing he ever does is good enough, not for her, not for his dad, and maybe not even for his younger brother.
Jeongin shoves the thought down as he sets the table. His brother is scribbling on his homework in the living room, and he doesn’t see his dad. It would only take a few steps for him to make it to his bedroom and lock himself up until morning. The idea is tempting, so much so that Jeongin stares longingly at his door before shaking himself out of it and mechanically returning to the kitchen.
Dinner goes the same as usual. His dad talks about work, his brother complains about how hard school is, and his mom chatters about the gossip of her workplace. Then, when they’ve talked about themselves enough, his dad starts talking about his alma mater and how much Jeongin would love it. His mom chimes in, enthusiastically talking about the local colleges and all the things Jeongin could do if he just “applied himself a little more.”
Even if he hears these things every night, they never fail to make his stomach turn uncomfortably and his eyes sting with unshed tears. He usually dances away from the topic with tight-lipped smiles, but not tonight. He can’t. It’s just too much.
“Why do you talk to me about college every night?” He asks suddenly, clearly taking his parents by surprise. They wave his younger brother off to his room before tentatively answering his question.
“We think it would be good for you,” his mother says, eyes soft and round. Jeongin chews the inside of his cheek, trying to find what he wants to say.
“I don’t want to go to college,” he says instead, shrinking in on himself when he sees his dad frown.
“Well what are you going to do instead?” His dad asks. Jeongin knows it isn’t meant to be unkind, but he flinches anyway. “You’ve been out of high school for several months now, Jeongin. You can’t just sit around at home all day.”
I don’t know , he wants to say. He wants to scream, to try and explain how he feels like he doesn’t even know who he is anymore, much less what he wants to do with his life, but all of the words die on his tongue when he finally catches their gaze.
Disappointment swirls in the irises of their eyes.
Jeongin’s heart clenches painfully in his chest. He mumbles something about applying for a job at the restaurant and hurriedly makes his escape to the kitchen to clean his dishes. He doesn’t spare his parents another glance or word as he enters his room, closing the door softly behind him. He locks it after a moment’s hesitation, collapsing on the floor in front of his bed. Silent sobs wrack his body, and he clamps a hand over his mouth to stifle any sound. He won’t let them hear him cry. It’s the last thing they need on the laundry list of reasons why he’s a failure of a son.
The evening passes in a blur of tears and eerie silence. Jeongin pulls himself into bed when the clock reads ten, and he shoves his phone under his pillow. Crying has exhausted him, but for as tired as he is, he can’t shut his brain off.
The facial expressions his parents made at the dinner table are burned into the back of his eyelids.
Why wouldn’t he ever be enough for them? He’d done so well in high school. He slipped up a few times, sure, but his grades overall were good and his record was spotless. Everyone assumed his academic success would push him in the direction of college and then into the corporate world for something big and successful, but Jeongin didn’t think he wanted that.
In all truth, Jeongin still doesn’t know what he wants. There’s a giant hole in his chest that school used to fill, and now it sits empty, festering something ugly. Purposelessness seeps deeper and deeper into his being as the days tick by, and he fears he’s slipping away. What is he without academic validation? Was he really smart or was the school system set up in such a way that he naturally strived, despite never actually knowing what he was doing? If he really is smart, why can’t he just force himself to go to college? It seems like everyone has something they want enough to jump headfirst into stuff that scares them.
I want it, I want it, I want it.
Does he? Does he really want anything at all?
Jeongin yanks his blanket over his face. It hurts to breathe. Everything hurts.
He realizes that maybe there are a few things he wants.
He never wants his parents to look at him like that again.
He wants to want something enough to work for it.
And, most of all, he wants to stop hurting so much.
There’s a surefire way to stop the hurting. Jeongin rolls onto his back, staring at the ceiling of his room. Could he really do it? End his own life? The thought itself isn’t nearly as scary as he thought it would be, and perhaps that alone should shake him enough to run out of his room to tell someone–anyone–but Jeongin just lays still on his bed.
What would he be leaving behind? His family, sure, but would they miss him? He’s nothing but a disappointment, a son they can’t get to do what they want.
A sad sigh tumbles from his lips as he turns onto his side. He curls up, his hands gripping the fabric of his sheets. Another night where he’s tired enough to sleep for years, but it never comes that easily.
Eternal sleep sounds much preferable.
Jeongin is awoken to the incessant beeping of his alarm clock. He slams it off, groaning into his room. He yanks his blanket over his head without a second thought, letting himself fall back to sleep.
Jeongin snaps his eyes open after a few moments, utterly bewildered. His alarm clock had gone off? That’s…weird. Jeongin checks the time with bleary eyes and sees it’s barely after six. Why had it gone off? He hasn’t set an alarm since school ended last June. He pulls his phone out from under his bed, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Nothing seems out of the ordinary there. It’s a Tuesday, which adds up given he went to bed last when it was Monday.
He continues to lay in bed, confused as to what caused his alarm to go off, but too comfortable to get up to investigate. An indiscernible amount of time passes before his bedroom door slowly swings open and his dad pokes his head in.
“Jeongin? Why aren’t you up yet?” Jeongin opens his mouth to answer, but his dad just taps his fingers against the door. “School starts in under an hour now, get dressed quickly and come get breakfast.” He’s gone before Jeongin can reply.
His brain feels sluggish. He rubs his hands over his face, trying to process the things his dad said to him. School? In an hour? There’s no way! Jeongin hasn’t had school in months. This has to be a dream, perhaps even a nightmare.
Nevertheless, Jeongin hauls himself from bed to go through his school morning routine. It feels strange, washing his face, brushing his teeth, and scrambling to put on his school uniform. As he grabs his backpack, Jeongin realizes there’s probably hordes of homework and tests he doesn’t know about. He shoves the panic down in favor of slumping down at the table to eat the food that’s been graciously prepared for him.
After he’s done scarfing down breakfast, he heads to the door to put on his shoes. As he’s reaching for his jacket, his hand stops midair when he notices the look on his father’s face.
“It’s too warm for a jacket, bud,” he says kindly, and Jeongin nods slowly. “Is Hyunjin still walking with you this morning? You’re gonna have him waiting outside.”
“Oh, uh, yeah,” Jeongin stammers, shoving his foot all the way into his shoe so he can stumble out the door. “See you later!”
Hyunjin is standing on the sidewalk in front of his house, blonde hair loose around his face. It shrouds his features from the early morning sun, and Jeongin pauses as he stares at him from the porch. This day is all wrong . It’s warm outside, the type of warm that’s pleasant but nothing like the weather when he went to bed the night before. Unease settles in the pit of Jeongin’s stomach.
Maybe it’s just a dream , he thinks to himself. Somehow, though, he knows that this isn’t a dream.
“Yah! Put some pep in your step, slowpoke!” Hyunjin whines, stomping his foot like a petulant child.
“I’m coming, I’m coming!” Jeongin scrambles the rest of the way over to Hyunjin, following the older boy as he sets off in the direction of their school. One of the things Jeongin remembers really liking about school was the walk into the building, shoulder-to-shoulder with Hyunjin. Seungmin occasionally joined them, but not this morning.
Hyunjin bumps their shoulders together, and Jeongin realizes he must have been talking to him.
“What?” He asks, blinking rapidly as he looks over at Hyunjin.
“I asked if you’re feeling okay this morning,” Hyunjin repeats, a line of worry appearing on his forehead. Jeongin offers the most convincing smile he can muster.
“I’m okay, hyung. I just think my brain’s a little extra fuzzy this morning.” Calling his brain “a little extra fuzzy” is perhaps the understatement of the century, but Jeongin doesn’t particularly feel like delving into the depths of his madness at seven in the morning on a Tuesday.
“Ah yes, the post all-nighter brain fog,” Hyunjin sighs wistfully, sipping the yogurt drink in his hand. “Did you study all night for that math exam too?”
Jeongin decides to just nod his head and sigh a little. There’s no use trying to explain that he thinks he woke up in a different year. Hyunjin doesn’t notice his inner turmoil and simply coos at him, like he’s a child, and squashes their cheeks together.
“Awh, Innie! I know you’ll do well,” he sings encouragingly, beaming at Jeongin. Jeongin grins back at him, unable to contain his own smile. That is one thing he’s always loved about Hyunjin. His smile is infectious, as well as his laughter.
“Thanks, hyung,” Jeongin responds quietly, feeling a little disheartened as they step through the front gates of their high school.
It feels strange to be back, and not in a good way. He isn’t technically back , if you really think about it. From where he’s standing, high school hasn’t ended for him yet.
The thought sends a chill down his spine. God, he really needs to figure out what the absolute fuck is going on.
Jeongin and Hyunjin part ways, only for Felix to come bounding up to him right before his first class.
“Jeongin! Jeongininie! Innie!” Felix sing-songs. Jeongin holds out a hand, feeling stricken.
“Who gave you caffeine, hyung?” He asks without preamble.
“None of your business,” Felix replies with a flip of his (very short) hair.
“I think it is absolutely my business,” Jeongin grits out as Felix tries to attack him with a hug. Felix just laughs, a deep rumble from his chest that Jeongin forgot how much he loved to hear. The realization that he hasn’t heard Felix’s voice or laugh in months snaps him back into reality.
“That’s absurd! But if you must know, it was the sexy man from the cafeteria,” Jeongin rolls his eyes, plopping into his seat in the back of the classroom. He isn’t necessarily surprised that his muscles remember his schedule and his seat, but it just feels so strange.
“If you’re referring to the vending machine as a sexy man, I will stop being your friend right here and now,” Jeongin deadpans, eliciting a shocked gasp from Felix.
“How dare you!” He hisses, turning away when their teacher enters the room. He shoots Jeongin a look that’s likely meant to mean “this conversation isn’t over,” but all Jeongin can do is find it endearing.
As the day passes and as Jeongin sees more of his high school life, he realizes a lot of things. The first is that the math exam he supposedly studied for was hard as fuck (BOTH times) and he left that class feeling like he’d gotten his soul sucked from his body. Another revelation from future Jeongin about past Jeongin is that he has no idea how he was doing this everyday. Jeongin’s exhausted by lunchtime, and he shrinks into himself for the rest of the day. He can’t be bothered to participate in class like usual, or focus on anything other than how royally fucked this day has been and how much he wants to nap.
Part of him has viewed high school as a good time of his life. He saw his friends everyday, and seeing them today was good, but it also left a strangely hollow feeling inside of Jeongin’s chest. He knew he missed them, but that pain had gotten so tangled up in the rest of it that it was barely distinguishable. Now, as it sits in the forefront of Jeongin’s chest, it’s an uncomfortable, steady ache.
God , he thinks as he sinks onto his bed, this is fucking awful .
The first week of being back in high school passes in a strange blur of homework, quizzes, tests, and dizzying exhaustion. He’s drowning, again. The waves crash over his head and he can’t quite seem to get himself up to the surface to just breathe .
Jeongin doesn’t tell anyone. He figures they can sense something is…different, but he doesn’t think he can stomach having to look any one of his loved ones in the eye and explain that he thinks he traveled back in time a whole year.
It’s madness. He knows that. But, he’s living the madness, and it’s wearing on his already weary soul rapidly.
How much of this can he really survive? Everything was already shit before time dropped him back into the worst days of his life.
God
, he thinks, again,
this is fucking awful
.