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Chae Hyungwon is not a guardian angel. He is a time traveller, though the two aren’t necessarily mutually exclusive.
It starts in 1995. It had been just a glance, so swift and brief, locking eyes with the toddler that seemed momentarily entranced by him.
His eyes sparkled with excitement, causing the same sentiment to bubble in Hyungwon. A sentiment he’s failed to harbour ever since they’ve narrowed in on him and the location of his watches. Dark, suspicious eyes carve dagger-stabbed wounds into his back.
He’s generally out of touch with most of his sentiments except for fear and worry. It’s probably why he’s left a little happier but a lot more confused when a spark runs along his spine as the tiny child babbles incoherently, giggling in his mother’s hold.
The feeling isn’t foreign, just raw, and a little bit like meeting a very old but close acquaintance, presence comforting, until he returns to life without the feeling, and is acutely aware of how jarring everything now feels.
He ignores it for the better part.
*****
It may not look like it, but Hyungwon swears it’s a coincidence. It’s just a coincidence he’s walking past the Baskin Robbins near the little boy’s house on a very special day in November 1998.
He swears he’d just realised it was the boy’s fifth birthday only when he’d seen him in a rainbow party hat, unwrapping gifts with his parents, the same dazzling smile on his face.
Stuffing his puffy cheeks with what Hyungwon guesses is a scoop of Puss in Boots, the boy throws his tiny hands in the air as he cheers at the gifts in front of him.
His parents are beaming, and Hyungwon tries very hard to push down the smile that’s surfacing on his face.
Hyungwon surrenders and pushes open the door, hovering before the counter as his eyes scan the array of ice cream flavours. He chooses the cotton candy flavour in a cone, and pays before making his way to a table far enough to not attract attention, near enough to eavesdrop.
The young boy still has the tendency to leave out proper grammar in his sentences, the lisp in his pronunciation endearing.
The sound of wrapping paper ripped apart finds its way to Hyungwon, and the child’s eyes are wide and filled with enthusiasm, as always.
They light up at the sight of a toy car, and he pulls it out of the rest of the wrapper impatiently. “Car! Wed!”
Hyungwon frowns, but his expression smoothes out, even breaking into a light smile when he realises he means ‘red’, the colour of his new toy. He smiles into his ice cream, ignoring the sharp pain in his gum as he bites into it.
The boy takes the car out of the box and starts running it across the table, his mouth making sounds to mimic the engine, and his parents are staring at him lovingly.
Another rustle of paper as his mother stuffs a spoonful of the frozen confectionery into his mouth, his almond eyes round as his stubby fingers feel fabric on their tips.
He fishes it out, and it’s a beanie, dark blue with snowflakes on them. The young child doesn’t seem to understand the concept of fashion, but doesn’t complain when the woolly material is tugged over his head, covering his ears.
At least there are perks of being a winter child, Hyungwon thinks.
He looks adorable, the shade flattering against his fair skin, and he blinks. His mother just pats him on his head, and the boy shrugs, reduced to giggles when his father tickles his sides.
A ball of warmth rolls up in Hyungwon, a foreign feeling to have. Familial harmony was something like a luxury to Hyungwon. He tries to not remember how he’d not been at his father’s deathbed in 2041, witnessed the old man’s last haggle with Death.
There is a price to pay for the advancement of mankind. At least, that’s the excuse he provides himself as he goes to bed at night. If it helps him sleep.
*****
2047. Hoseok looks as he materialises from thin air, the watch on his wrist heavy. “Oh. Hey.” The older man says, padding to his kitchen sleepily as he makes his way to the fridge and pours himself a glass of juice.
Hyungwon tips his index finger and Hoseok picks up another empty glass and fills it halfway with the beverage. Hyungwon is perched on the tall stool by the counter, a long sigh leaving his lips.
“I haven’t been seeing you around much.”
Hyungwon blinks.
“You might if you’d stop travelling back to 2017 to hang out with Hyunwoo,” he says calmly, sipping on his drink without as much as a glance in Hoseok’s direction.
The older male appears embarrassed, the drink covering his whole face. “How do you know?” he mumbles, and Hyungwon huffs.
“I own all five watches I make and give out. Surely you’d realise that I have something to track how and where they’re used, right?”
Hoseok presses his lips together.
“So what, it’s like your personal GPS? On me? What am I, your pet? Do I need a chip in me, too?”
Hyungwon throws him an irritated look. “You think I like stalking your whereabouts? I need to know where they’ve been and if the right people have them. Don’t use my damn device, then, give it back.” He makes grabby hands for Hoseok’s wrist, and the man pulls his arm away in time.
“No fricking way. It was meant to be my birthday present; who takes presents back?”
Hyungwon deadpans. “Santa Claus, when naughty children are being extra assholes, and they should get coal instead.”
Hoseok offers him an aggrieved expression in response, but they leave it as that, Hyungwon no longer fighting for the watch, Hoseok no longer complaining about being surveillanced.
There is pleasant silence before Hoseok speaks.
“It’s not a problem, is it?”
Hyungwon stares at him. “What is?”
“Me talking to Hyunwoo. Making friends with him. Socialising.”
“Falling in love with him?”
“Hyungwon, please.”
The younger man laughs. “I’ve known you for a decade, Hoseok. Did you really think you were going to fool me?”
Hoseok turns red again. “Will you answer my question?”
The time traveller shrugs, a sad smile on his face. “It’s not a problem. But I wish you wouldn’t fall in love. You know it won’t end as anything, Hoseok. You can’t stay in 2017 forever, and you can’t bring Hyunwoo here.”
The air lingers with an unspoken sombreness, and Hoseok grips tighter onto his glass. The liquid sloshes, a tremor in his hand.
“I know.” He pauses. “I just don’t want to get you into trouble. Is it really okay?”
Hyungwon breathes. “It’s fine. Just don’t do anything dumb.”
That seems to appease Hoseok for a bit, and he puts down his now-empty glass on the counter.
“Will you stay the night?”
Hyungwon breathes, pulling out his phone and allows his thumbs to fly across the screen. He looks at it, then back at Hoseok.
“I guess it won’t hurt. But you know how it is.”
Hoseok smiles, grim. “Yeah. Don’t expect you to have brunch with me, do I?”
Hyungwon shrugs. “You’ll have more hopes of having it with Hyunwoo than with me.”
And he chuckles as Hoseok throws a tablecloth at him, his presence safe and comfortable. It puts him to ease.
*****
It may have been the fact that Hoseok’s just a really warm big spoon, but Hyungwon wakes up later than he’s supposed to, muttering a curse word under his breath as he worms his way out of his arms.
There’s something about today, about how he’d just slept so peacefully in Hoseok’s embrace, about the tooth-aching ice cream he’d had this morning, or perhaps it had been the twinkle in the boy’s eyes all along.
Nostalgia washes onto him like a wave, and then it intensifies and comes in blows. Hyungwon stumbles out of Hoseok’s bedroom and searches blindly for the light switch. The artificial light is glaring, and he has to squint to find his belongings.
Stuffing his wallet into his back pocket, he scribbles a messy note to Hoseok and stuffs it under the carpet, where it’s always been, and a date and time when he’d next be back, if he ever needs to find him.
As he tweaks the dials on his watch, Hyungwon braces himself for the whirl, and for returning to this place at this time for the first time.
*****
2041. His old house smells like the hospital, a stinging scent of antiseptic invading his senses as he finds himself tucked in the corner of two walls.
He realises he doesn’t need to hide, because no one’s really paying attention to anything else other than the bedridden old man.
Hyungwon barely exhales, the fear of being discovered crippling him and keeping him in place.
He can see his brother, his aunts and uncles from here, all crowded around the bed, tears in their eyes. He breathes hard, the sounds of his exhalation ringing in his ears.
It’s weak and tiny, but he hears the familiar voice. Hyungwon holds his palm to his lips, muffling his own voice, afraid that he might just find the need to yell incoherently, or worse, sob.
“Where’s Hyungwon?” Is the question, and the man hidden in the corner presses down harder on his lips, moisture gathering in his eyes.
“I tried calling him but he won’t pick up. It says the line is not available.” His brother. Hyungwon remembers not having received any calls, because he wasn’t in the same timeline to receive signals.
He was in a time where phones were not yet invented, wanting to meet the world’s first watchmaker to find out if there was a way for him to transform his originally bulky clocks to watches without messing up the mechanisms.
“That rascal.” His father coughs, and Hyungwon is breathing hard, the tears making it hard for him to focus. “He’s always been out and about so much, you’d wonder what he’s so damn busy with.”
Hyungwon had never found a need to explain to his family about what it was that he did. He didn’t expect them to understand. Or needed them to deal with the repercussions of the knowledge that he was a fugitive, running from another kind of police.
The tears well up and his heart aches, his father’s strained voice calling for each and every one of his closed ones as they kiss him on his cheek. He leaves beautiful words of advice, advice that he’d failed to provide during Hyungwon’s upbringing, a strict and solemn man of few words.
Hyungwon won’t admit that his obsession with time warp had to do with how eagerly he’d wished to return to his childhood, the days where his parents were loving and communicated properly.
The days before the incessant arguments and hollering. The days before he’d find himself locked up in his room and no one bothering about his existence.
He’d wished, so desperately, for time to turn back, to when he’d be able to scream at them to put themselves back together, that it would be worth it in the long run, that they would come to realise, 15 years down the road, that they still loved each other.
But as fate would have it, Hyungwon invents the method to turn back time, and loses his last chance to see his father. He imagines emerging from the shadows, teary-eyed, just as his brother had been trying and failing to contact him on his phone a few seconds ago.
It sounds ridiculous, even to him, but he supposes it makes little sense now. After all, the only change he’d make is alleviate part of his guilt, and lessen his father’s resentment.
Dead men don’t speak, and they no longer resent, while Hyungwon’s living just fine with the boulder of regret on his shoulders.
With how estranged he is with his brother and the rest of his family in the present time, it proves that jeopardising his position adds no significant value to his current situation. And all in all, Hyungwon is not a sentimentalist.
They sob, his aunts wail, his brother making pathetic sounds beside. Hyungwon is just tucked in the corner, snivelling, not even capable of bawling his eyes out, just pressing his palm against his lips as he lets the tears flow freely down his cheeks.
A gurgle and a thump, and Hyungwon looks at the time on his watch. 3:22AM. The time of his father’s death. And as his relatives let out heart-wrenching wails, he allows himself a soft sob, his tears carrying his guilt and regret, dripping onto the carpet with a silent pitter-patter.
“Can you guys hear that?” His uncle asks, gaze moving to the corner between the walls, and Hyungwon holds his chest as he presses onto the dial, vanishing into the darkness.
*****
“Ahjussi, are you okay?” It’s him, the boy, now six years old, Year 2 of kindergarten and is capable of slightly more proper sentence structure. He’s grown a lot taller in just two years, the chubbiness in his cheeks disappeared a little.
The only unchanging detail is his glistening eyes, reminding Hyungwon a little of himself when he was younger, bright-eyed, wide-grinned.
A fractured sob leaves him as he crumples into a pile on the ground, the boy’s eyes widening as he scurries to his side.
A tiny hand on his cheek, the boy is flustered, wiping his beads of tears away. Hyungwon chokes on his breath and starts a hacking cough, the kindergarten student’s breathing accelerating in fright.
“Are you okay? Please be okay!” His voice is high-pitched and he’s shrieking in worry, the man still letting out stuttered cries as he holds his palm atop his chest.
He squeezes. It hurts. He doesn’t know why he’d chosen to come here, but he does know it’s the park near the boy’s kindie, and he hadn’t really expected the young child to find him here, broken and pained.
He doesn’t know what he’d wanted by coming here, but the tiny hand on his cheek is soft and the child is anxious, the ends of his lips pulling down.
There’s something about the child that attracts him, the constant pulsing of energy in his blood, perhaps, or maybe he feels like he’s looking himself in the mirror sometimes, wishing to find the same enthusiastic child in himself.
His small hand shifts to pat Hyungwon on the head, pressing down on his chestnut brown hair as sniffles escape the man. “Ith okay, ahjussi.” The boy says repeatedly, tears threatening to leave his own almond eyes, and Hyungwon grimaces, trying so hard to smile for him.
“Kihyun-ah! Your mum’s here to get you!”
The boy turns around in the direction of where his teacher calls out for him, and when he turns back, Hyungwon is gone.
*****
Hyungwon stops pretending that it’s a coincidence.
2004. The boy is twice his age the last time he’d seen him, Hyungwon having taken months jumping from time to time to evade the Time Police, and to recuperate.
The emotional hurricane had whirled into his life and smashed it into smithereens, and Hyungwon has to learn how to piece them all back.
He supposes the boulder known as Regret he’d been carrying on his shoulders had finally decided to bear its true weight on him, and Hyungwon had lied. He hadn’t been just fine.
He’d just been scraping through living, running from the Police, and feeling the sharp sting of his wrongdoings and notdoings come back to him in full force.
He appears sporadically in different but similar periods of his life -- sometimes when he’s 5, other times when he’s 5 years and 3 months -- and while Hyungwon knows he could just fast-forward and appear in front of 50 year-old Kihyun’s life, he doesn’t want to.
He wants to see Kihyun grow up, but he also wants to take it slow, appreciate his honest childhood, his rash adolescence, his carefree adulthood, watch his every step of the way.
For a time traveller, this seems to be the one tale he wants to read in chronological order.
In his more nostalgic moments, however, Hyungwon enjoys returning to look at 8 year-old Kihyun, like flipping back to page 3 when he’s currently on page 25.
He’s saved Kihyun from one too many accidents, the boy clumsy and ditzy, almost always tripping over his shoelaces or falling into drains.
Hyungwon makes sure he dresses himself up differently every time. If anyone asks, it’s because he’s trying to put the Time Police off his trail, and not because he doesn’t want to be recognised as the weird uncle who’s always there at the nick of time.
Hyungwon is not a guardian angel, but sometimes he wishes he were, because the boy is pure and naive, an air of innocence around him.
He wishes he was a little more like him, like other children, untainted by the cruelty of the real world. But he supposes they will all grow up one day, and he finds himself desperately wishing that Kihyun remains as guileless as possible.
For now, 12 year-old Kihyun is quite tall and well-liked by his classmates. He has a budding passion for music and drama, and likes the sun and the beach. He likes playing basketball with his friends after classes, and attends remedial lessons studiously.
Hyungwon wishes he were half of what Kihyun was, a sense of envy toward the young child growing within him. It’s silly, he knows, but Hyungwon also knows he always wants what he cannot get, and settles for admiration instead.
*****
Hoseok is almost certain it’s an obsession. Hyungwon is quick to wave him off -- I could say the same about you towards Hyunwoo.
Hoseok’s cheeks turn a scarlet red, but he doesn’t deny the accusation. Hyungwon explains that Kihyun is like a character in a book, and he’s merely interested to see where it goes.
He would go back to Hoseok’s childhood and track his path if he’d prefer, the suggestion rejected vehemently by a very aggressive Hoseok, insisting that Hyungwon already knows way too much about him for a person who isn’t around most of the time.
They sit face-to-face, digging into takeaway Chinese, and Hyungwon picks up a slice of pickled radish and stuffs it into his already-full mouth.
“Do you think it’s weird?”
Hoseok regards him with ambivalence.
“Do I think what is weird?”
“Me, being overly interested in this kid’s life.”
Hoseok blinks, his shoulders moving up and down. “You have the tendency to do that. You remember the last time you had a celebrity crush on this actor and proceeded to carry out a five day marathon of all his movies and TV shows?”
Hyungwon almost chokes on his noodles, Hoseok just laughing goofily. “Those were dark days,” Hyungwon says, a dark cloud overhead, and Hoseok just smiles.
“Like I said, you do that. With novels, characters, movie stars. You get a bit… fanatical.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
Hoseok pulls out a tissue and wipes black bean sauce off the side of Hyungwon’s lips. He thinks about it for a second, then shakes his head slowly.
“Not really. Just be careful, Hyungwon. Don’t fall into it and not get out.”
Hyungwon’s eyelids flutter. “Right. Because you’re one to speak.”
He drinks in the blush spreading down Hoseok’s neck and guffaws.
*****
Kihyun grows up beautifully, his lips more defined, his nose more pronounced, his jaw sharp and angled. The one thing that doesn’t disappear is the shine in his eyes.
Hyungwon is a little taken aback at how his spark doesn’t seem to douse despite the years. 16 year-old Kihyun finds his passion in other things, namely the fierce aggression of a hot-spirited teenager, the hatred for most things in the world, inequality and the lack of justice.
He supposes he had set high expectations for the boy, somehow presuming that he was different from his peers just because he held special significance in Hyungwon’s life.
But no one grows up perfect, and Hyungwon understands how making mistakes is also part of ageing.
Kihyun gets into fights he doesn’t start, standing up for silly things he’ll laugh at when he remembers them in the future.
For now, Hyungwon keeps his distance, the stranger in the seat behind him on the bus, the tall man in the convenience store when Kihyun stumbles in on the search for band-aid and antiseptic solution for his fresh wounds.
There’s only so long he can hope to be Kihyun’s guardian angel before the boy has to learn to fight his own battles.
Hyungwon had only wished it was later than earlier, but for now he traces Kihyun’s steps as he bumbles through life, keeping an attentive eye on him.
It’s only when he finds Kihyun kissing a boy behind a bush in his backyard that he realises why Kihyun’s been so fired up and angry at the world.
He just wanted to find a place where he belonged, confusion muddling his head and fogging up his thoughts.
Hyungwon really should have seen this coming a long time ago, but it doesn’t really matter. He doesn’t conceal the grin on his face. He hopes Kihyun has finally sorted himself out, and the world to be slightly more relenting.
*****
Kihyun experiences his first heartbreak at 17. It’s surprisingly filled with less tears and snot than he’d imagined, and Hyungwon thinks he sees the light in his eyes go out for a bit.
It worries him. Kihyun has resorted to hugging himself to sleep with small amounts of crying, a copious amount of his favourite ice cream and a general impassiveness towards the other bits of life.
He still attends remedial lessons regularly, still completes his assignments on time, but there’s something lethargic in him, putting out most of his ferocity, passion or fury.
He knows he shouldn’t blame the other boy. They’re both young, after all, and while making out and holding hands is lovely, they’re at an age where the opinions of others weighed heavily.
It tipped the scales, the other boy afraid that his parents would find out, and chose to run instead of holding it out with Kihyun.
He should have known -- first loves are rarely lasting -- but it doesn’t reduce the pain in his gut when Kihyun spends another sleepless night staring at his Facebook profile that’s now filled with pictures of his new girlfriend.
It’s becoming increasingly difficult to stay in a time for long without getting caught, and while Hyungwon wants to be Kihyun’s friend along the way, he knows better than anyone else that it’s a horrible idea.
He can’t risk changing anything, and while he has no idea how Kihyun ends up in his time, he’s not ready to ruin anything.
But like how first loves aren’t lasting, the pain from a first love lasts for only so long, and Kihyun moves on when he meets Jooheon in his first year of university.
*****
Hyungwon sometimes wants so desperately to find Kihyun in his time, only to realise it’s like watching a drama that he doesn’t want to know the ending of.
Finding out where Kihyun is and what he’s doing in 2047 is like announcing game over, like the emptiness you feel after finishing a series, after months of chasing after new episodes every week.
He doesn’t know if he’s ready for that, so he refrains from going back to his own present time as much as possible, fearing the odd chance that they might meet, and he’ll watch himself create his own spoiler.
*****
Jooheon started off as a friend. It wasn’t difficult; he was friendly and caring, and had the mind to initiate conversations with people. They met at a party, Kihyun slightly awkward but curious, here only because his friend had insisted he tag along.
He’s sitting in the corner nursing his punch when Jooheon walks along, cocking his head to the side.
“Hey there. Mind if I sit beside you?”
Kihyun looks at the space beside, and shakes his head.
The silver-haired boy sits and beams, a plastic cup of dark liquid in his hand. “I’m Lee Jooheon. Do you go to our high school?”
Kihyun blinks owlishly. “Uh. No. I’m a uni student. I -- uh -- my friend’s from your high school? Noh Yoonho?”
Jooheon’s eyes widen. “Oh! Yoonho! Right, he does go to my school. He’s cool. I mean. Hi! I mean, sorry, you looked my age, so I just thought --” He babbles, and Kihyun thinks he’s cute.
Kihyun rubs at his nape. “No, that’s fine. I mean. It’s flattering, I think?”
“You think?” Jooheon asks, putting the cup to his lips as he downs it in a go. Kihyun just stares at his now-empty cup, and the younger boy looks back at his inquisitive gaze.
“Oh! This is just coke. Doesn’t have alcohol in it. I’m the designated driver,” Jooheon replies, and Kihyun nods, pursing his lips together. He hadn’t really thought about driving when he’d picked up the punch. His tummy feels warm. Jooheon seems to realise that he’s distracted, and smiles as he waves an arm in front of his face.
“If you’re not too far off, I can drop you guys too.”
“Oh, we drove here. Well, I did, before I realised that I’m an idiot, and this punch has vodka in it.”
Jooheon laughs. “You’re not an idiot. Maybe you just really wanted a free drink. That’s what parties are for anyway, right?”
Kihyun finds himself smiling back. “Right.”
“Well, the offer still stands, if you’d like. You can always catch a taxi here tomorrow morning to fetch your car, but it’s up to you.”
Kihyun leans back into his seat, shrugging. “Yeah. I’m sure my bed’s more comfortable than some unknown hard surface in this place that sets off my migraine with its music.”
Jooheon chuckles, apparently amused, and Kihyun sips on his drink quietly. “Hey,” Jooheon says, and then screams when they turn the music up a few more decibels. “I don’t think I got your name!”
“Kihyun! Yoo Kihyun!”
Jooheon nods, regards Kihyun with wonderment as they agree to move to a quieter place to talk about Jooheon’s plans after graduation, and Kihyun’s complaints about uni.
That night, the light in Yoo Kihyun’s eyes grows back a little brighter, and Hyungwon’s heart grows full.
*****
They find it natural to move into the same apartment as flatmates. Jooheon and Kihyun move in as they unsurprisingly end up in the same university, Jooheon majoring in Engineering and Kihyun in Journalism. They are very different, but sometimes Kihyun helps Jooheon look over his essays, and Jooheon, well, buys him lunch.
They match well, Jooheon leaving just the right amount of mess for Kihyun for him to nag at him for, not bad enough to attract a magnitude-9 earthquake.
It must also seem natural after they have dinner at the nearby Thai restaurant -- customary Tuesday menu, because Kihyun loves their green curry -- and are making their way to the cafe for a post-meal coffee, when Jooheon lets his swinging arm tangle with Kihyun’s.
He hooks his arm gently and sneakily slides his hand down, wrapping his fingers around Kihyun’s hand. The older boy whips his head to the side to stare at Jooheon, who appears to be very insistent on staring at his own feet.
Kihyun just chortles, and lets go of his hand momentarily, only to come back with their fingers interlocked, the boy’s skin warm and soft to the touch.
He thinks he finally finds his place in the world, Jooheon’s gaze reassuring and comforting. Hyungwon hadn’t expected it to take 20 years to happen, but he’s glad he does.
He returns to Hoseok’s apartment in 2047 and invites him to a drink, something he almost never does, because alcohol lowers his inhibitions, and his limbs are heavier when he’s intoxicated, lesser chance to run.
Hoseok indulges him, cracking open a bottle of wine, and they clink glasses, Hyungwon giddy with delight as he rambles on about Kihyun having found his sense of belonging.
Hoseok knows they’re in a celebratory mood and doesn’t tell Hyungwon that Kihyun’s happily ever after is probably far from completed. He doesn’t need a wet blanket right now.
What he needs is happiness, and then some sleep, followed by a massive hangover.
Hoseok smiles. Maybe this time he’ll finally be able to have brunch with the man.
*****
“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Kihyun asks for the fifth time, and Jooheon nods, growing slightly annoyed.
“Yes, yes, yes. Gosh, hyung, you’re like a mother hen.”
The older boy pouts, pulling his hand away from where it was on top of Jooheon’s hand on the gear stick. “I’m just concerned. You know I wouldn’t want to leave if not for that presentation.”
Jooheon sighs, and reaches out to grab at Kihyun’s wrist, placing his palm on his own thigh. “I know. I’m just… I’ll be fine. I promise.”
They’ve just been on a short camping trip just on the outskirts of Seoul, bordering rural areas and appreciating the stars for their worth. It was fun; Jooheon would set up the tents while Kihyun, who boasts of his temporary training as a scout, sets up a campfire and pulls out meat from the cooler bag they’ve prepared.
The trip lasts for three whole days before Kihyun has to return to uni for a presentation. Jooheon was going to drive a little further out, where a couple of his friends had rented a cabin, and he was going to stay with them for a bit.
They exchange long kisses in the car before Jooheon has to shoo him off and remind him that he’s going to see him in four days’ time. Kihyun insists that it’s way too long to be apart, and Jooheon rolls his eyes, but moves in for another kiss anyway.
He sees Kihyun in his side mirror as he drives off, waving at him in his oversized jacket, a large grin on his face, and Jooheon feels his heart fill up with warmth.
He smiles, hoping Kihyun will see it from where he is.
*****
The funeral is painful, and Kihyun is nowhere to be found. Hyungwon pales, fearing the worst, and finds himself climbing the stairs to the rooftop, his hands trembling on the railings.
There is a gust of wind in Kihyun’s hair, ruffling and messing with it, but the boy doesn’t spare the effort to tidy it. He stands so precariously close to the edge, and when Hyungwon moves closer, he kneels, clutching at his chest.
A deafening sob escapes his thin lips, his eyes screwed tightly shut as he crumples his shirt in his grip, ear-splitting cries bubbling from his chest with every breath he affords to take.
Hyungwon doesn’t know how to approach him, if he should even approach him, but when he goes closer and sees the tears rolling down his cheeks, his heart breaks.
He squats to stare at eye level, and the words leave his mouth.
“Hey boy, you okay?”
Just like how the young boy had offered consolation to an unknown uncle, Hyungwon returns the favour, and reaches an arm to wipe his tears away with his thumb.
The boy doesn’t shy away, surprisingly, something in his brokenness failing to sense danger, and his heart properly smashes to pieces when Kihyun mourns for the love of his life.
“It’s okay,” Hyungwon says, even though he knows it’s not okay, even if Kihyun’s shot at happiness had been snatched from him so cruelly. He knows all that, but he doesn’t know what else to say.
Hyungwon witnesses the last of the light in Kihyun’s eyes go out, flashing, flickering, flickering, and then -- nothing.
*****
2047. Hyungwon realises that Kihyun no longer exists in this world, in this world, in this time. He doesn’t know where he is. It’s like he’s fallen off the grid, his parents worried and heartbroken at the disappearance of their son, but he was nowhere to be found, possibly not wanting to ever be found.
Hyungwon knows what that’s like, the years following his father’s death had been hell on earth.
Every land he walked on reminded him of the times he should have been kinder to him, all their memories, the good and the bad, coming back to him in sudden flashes.
The last time Hyungwon had seen the boy, he hadn’t shaved for weeks, and found himself in a spiral of crippling depression.
The search continues, Hoseok trying to talk him out of intervening, but he’s grown too emotionally invested now to give up.
If Kihyun had died somewhere, then he wants to at least see proof.
He looks for him in all the wrong places at the wrong times, the number of amalgamations of his appearances in either timeline making it close to impossible to catch.
But Hyungwon thinks he’d have higher hopes of looking into the past, and he finds himself returning to where Kihyun had lost Jooheon, in the outskirts of Seoul, information he’d just received from one of his associates.
*****
Hyungwon exhales shakily. Kihyun looks good. Better than what he’d looked like 2 years ago, dishevelled and unkempt.
The light is still out, and Kihyun leans on his arm resting on the counter, closing his eyes as the scenes of Jooheon’s car flipping in the air replay in his head.
Palm on his chest, he thumps at it harshly, as if willing it to stop hurting.
Hyungwon stares at the watch in his hands and his eyes flicker back to Kihyun, gaze wavering. He knows it’s a mistake, knows how it’s going to end, but it doesn’t feel right not even giving him a chance.
Hyungwon knows what choice he’d make. He knows him like a brother now, like a sibling, like a person in his actual life, and he’s more than aware of the bits in his personality that will make his decisions for him.
He knocks on the glass door of the window and slides the device through, before turning around and leaving.
*****
2015. Kihyun finds himself stranded in the middle of the road when he was still in the shop a moment ago, his insides churning.
A strong sense of deja vu hits him, and then a car zooms past, barely scraping him. He looks back at the watch, which now reads ‘2015’, and then at the car. He recognises it. Jooheon’s car. The one that flips in his dreams, the one in which he’d found a bloody Jooheon without a single breath in him.
He takes chase, but Kihyun is only human even with the sheer amount of adrenaline pumping in him, and it flips again before his eyes, just like in his memory, and he cries out as he presses down on the dial again.
“No, no, no.” He whispers, chasing after the car pathetically, never catching it in time before Jooheon drives off, always standing on the outside as the car races past him.
His whispers echo into cries, and he’s running out of breath, but Kihyun is aware that this is his only chance at changing anything.
He tries to at least catch a glimpse of Jooheon’s face before it happens, but in the split second he gets to see him, he only finds an expression of shock and pure fear, and the image sticks, imprints itself on the back of his lids, and he cries.
He doesn’t want that to be his last memory of Jooheon. He’d had rather it be those mushy kisses in the car, in the smile he’d flashed him as he waved at his car cruising away.
He can’t unsee it, and the only way for it to not be the one lasting memory of his boyfriend, is to make sure he doesn’t die.
He runs, and runs, and runs.
*****
“You. You’re that guy.” Kihyun says matter-of-factly, Jooheon’s car squashed in the distance, and Kihyun has tears running down his face, his hands on his knees as he tries so hard to breathe.
Hyungwon hadn’t expected him to remember him.
“You were the one who came to the rooftop during the funeral, weren’t you?” Kihyun asks, swallowing his saliva as Hyungwon evades his gaze. “You’re also the guy who gave me this.”
He holds up the device, light catching on its face, and Kihyun is so beautiful, so young, so kind. Hyungwon wants to disappear in this moment, doesn’t want to hear the inevitable request, doesn’t want to have to make a choice.
“You can change it, can’t you? Save him?” He points at the car, his hands shaking as he does, his eyes blurry from tears. A flicker of hope shines in his eyes, and Hyungwon almost breaks down at the prospect of seeing it again.
He nods, curt, and then Kihyun is clinging onto him, not letting go. “Please. Save him. I beg you, please. I don’t -- I can’t do it. I keep trying but I can’t. Please, just, save him. Please.”
Hyungwon looks at the smashed car and is tempted to tell Kihyun all about what he’d done for him through the adventure he called life, how he’s looked over him like a protector, like a guardian angel he had never wanted to become.
Kihyun is bawling, snot and tears mixed in one, and Hyungwon thinks he sees four year-old Kihyun again, in the playground and fallen off the swing with a scab on his knee.
But Hyungwon knows the pain you experience as you grow up intensifies, and this wound Jooheon left is hardly something that could be patched back up with a band-aid.
He purses his lips together and tells Kihyun what it encompasses. But of course, Hyungwon already knows what choice he’d make.
*****
It’s either both of their demise, a future Hyungwon already has privy to, or just one of theirs.
Hyungwon thinks if he’d involved himself more personally in Kihyun’s life, like how Hoseok does with Hyunwoo’s, they’d still end up where they are today.
He would have never been able to say no to the boy with the sparkle in his eyes.
*****
Jooheon is stronger, Hyungwon can tell almost immediately. He has the emotional resilience to stand up after a setback, remain calmer than everyone else during times of shock and overwhelming grief.
He’ll never know, however, that his lover had sacrificed his life for him, and that all the time he’s spending right now, breathing, smiling, feeling miserable, is on borrowed time. Kihyun’s time.
Jooheon, no matter how strong he is, needs time to mourn. And he finds himself hugging Kihyun’s pillows to sleep, taking in his scent, tears leaking from his eyes as the pain cripples him from time to time.
For a good month, he finds himself incapable of doing anything else except for mourn, despondent and sorrowful, taking consolations as they come, accepting hugs as they’re offered.
Hyungwon is so angry. Jooheon doesn’t have the right to mope. Every second of his that he’s using right now is rightfully Kihyun’s.
And his time had been up, because Jooheon’s taken his place, and he hates him. But maybe part of him hates himself more. Why did he have to give him a choice? He could have just let him live his woeful life, but at least he’d be alive. At least until the last he’d heard of him.
Jooheon’s not allowed to feel horrible, to spend his waking moments in pain and misery, because every moment he spends wallowing is every moment of Kihyun’s breath he’s wasted.
*****
November comes and is almost at an end, and Hyungwon remembers what it had been like on this very day in 1998, his second encounter with the child who brought what he can only define now as meaning to his life.
The last person he’d expected to see -- Jooheon -- is in the Baskin Robbins near Kihyun’s old house, his eyes curving into crescents as he thanks the cashier, pushing the door open to the pavement.
He stills for a moment, eyes slightly downcast.
He holds a cup that has a scoop of Puss in Boots, and there’s a melancholic smile on his lips. “Hey Kihyun hyung.” Jooheon is saying, barely a whisper, but Hyungwon lip reads.
“I got you your favourite.” He stares at the ice cream in his hands, and then up to the skies, to the heavens, to a realm beyond his comprehension, but wishing that he’d find Kihyun there someday, waiting for him.
“I miss you so much. Do you miss me too?” He almost chokes on his words when he says this, but he regains himself quickly, and clears his throat a little too loudly than necessary. He breaks into an exulting smile, before he whispers, “Happy birthday, my love.”
Hyungwon knows just how much he dislikes Jooheon, but when he catches him staring at a snowflake falling on his nose, he finds a flicker of something familiar in his eyes, the shadow of the boy he’d ever had the honour of meeting.
The boy with the bright smile, the boy with the jet black hair, the boy with light dancing in his eyes.