Chapter Text
Namjoon’s eyes fluttered and he let out a low groan as he slowly woke up. He felt like he was lying on a bed of clouds, a vastly different sensation from how his dorm bed usually felt. Maybe I’m still dreaming, he thought. He sighed and snuggled back into the warmth of the person behind him, who had an arm looped over his bare stomach and was breathing softly near his ear.
Wait.
Why was there a person in his bed? Was this even his bed? Oh god, Namjoon thought, what is happening? Have I been fucking abducted? How could that happen, the seven of us sleep in the same room for God’s sake… What if we’ve all been abducted, oh hell… He abruptly sat up and pushed his way onto the floor, flailing and nearly landing on his ass. (He absently noted, with relief, that he was wearing boxers and wasn’t completely naked.) Standing up, he cast his eyes frantically around the room. It seemed like a hotel room, a big, nice one. It had two beds, but only one of them looked like it had been slept in-- the one he’d just escaped from. And lying in the bed, now rubbing his eyes and slowly sitting up with a (cute) yawn, was…
“Morning, jagiya,” said Jin, blinking at him. Namjoon’s mouth dropped open, not just at the term of endearment (which, what the fuck?? that was a couples thing!), but because Jin looked… different, somehow. It was still definitely him, but… His hair’s a different color, Namjoon realized. And something about his face is-- off. “What are you doing standing there staring at me?” continued his hyung (unless he’d been replaced by a doppelganger, which Namjoon wasn’t ready to discount yet, it was so unsettling). “Come back to bed, we have a little more time before we have to get up.”
“Um-- morning, hyung…?” Namjoon choked out. His eyes darted around the room again. He still had no idea where he was. He noticed a couple of suitcases in a corner, although he didn’t recognize them. Two phones were charging on one of the bedside tables, but they looked weirdly bigger than normal iPhones despite having similar shapes.
Jin squinted at him, then did a double-take. “Joonie-ah, what the hell happened to your hair?” he gasped. He threw the covers off himself (thank god, he’s got boxers on too, thought Namjoon) and rounded the bed. Namjoon tried to back away, but Jin took his face in his hands and tilted his head down to look at his hair. Namjoon took the opportunity to give Jin a more detailed once-over, noticing that he was a lot more muscular than he remembered. (not that he had, you know, noticed or anything, because that would be weird. they were just bros, but come on man they lived together, you can’t escape seeing each other shirtless, it’s fine okay?)
“Nothing happened to it,” he finally said, pulling away. He crossed his arms over his bare chest, a little uncomfortable with the way Jin was scrutinizing him now. “Hyung, what are you looking at?” he snapped.
“Something is different,” Jin said emphatically. “Besides that awful hair, which you haven’t had since 2013 and have miraculously spouted overnight, you’re acting strange.” He ran a hand through his own hair and blew out a sigh.
“Since 2013?” asked Namjoon incredulously. “What does that mean? It’s 2013 now, hyung, and I haven’t gotten a haircut in weeks, it looked exactly like this yesterday. But while we’re on the subject of things being different, maybe you can tell me where the hell we are?” he nearly shouted, gesturing violently at the room he’d found himself in. He looked back at Jin accusingly, only to find his hyung looking at him as if he’d seen a ghost.
“You think…” Jin swallowed. “You think it’s 2013… right now?” He blinked several times really fast, and then grabbed Namjoon’s right hand and brought it up to his face.
“You think it’s not? Hey-- ah, hyung, what are you doing?” protested Namjoon, worriedly trying to pull his hand away. (What is going on…)
“Stop calling me hyung all the time, we’re in private, aren’t we?” muttered Jin absentmindedly, ignoring his first question. Namjoon’s face screwed up in confusion, and Jin caught the expression and looked away. “You have a scar on your ring finger from the time you broke it a couple years ago,” he eventually said, rotating Namjoon’s hand to look at the other side. “I… I don’t see it,” he whispered. He dropped the hand, and Namjoon crossed his arms over his chest again.
“What are you talking about,” he asked, “I’ve never broken my hand. Jin-hyung, what is happening?”
Jin looked at him with wide eyes. His hand came up to cover his mouth. Namjoon thought he looked like he might faint, or cry.
“Okay, I-- oh God,” said Jin, hands coming up to grip his hair. “Ja--” he stopped himself. “Namjoon-ah, it’s not 2013, it’s 2017. We’re at a hotel in Las Vegas right now, and we… oh fuck,” he sighed. “I’m gonna call a group meeting.”
2017? Namjoon thought in shock, collapsing onto the bed. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jin reach over as if to put a hand on his shoulder, then pull back. He grabbed one of the phones off the bedside table and started texting.
What the fuck is happening to me?