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Taeyong wakes up slowly, leisurely, to the quiet hum of the air conditioning. The sun is too bright outside; he winces and shifts his eyes away from the window, rubbing them to wake himself up more. He picks up his phone and sees that it’s 12:30 in the afternoon, August 15th. A Saturday, he thinks to himself lazily. Nothing much to do then, he thinks while pushing himself up from the bed and searching for some clothes to put on. No school, no work, just a full, hot summer day to do with as he pleased.
Maybe he’ll go to the park.
The sun burns his arms and neck, and he leans back on the swings while tilting his head toward the sky. Coming outside really hadn’t been his smartest idea, but the lack of people made up for the blistering heat in a way. The chains of the swing next to him groan under the person who sits on them and he chances a glance at his new companion. A boy with curly golden brown hair, a square jaw, and a sloped nose. He’s cute as he pets the black cat in his arms, Taeyong thinks, wondering if he should talk to him.
“You know, I think I kinda hate summer,” the boy says out of the blue, continuing to stroke the cat. It purrs deeply, and Taeyong almost thinks the boy is talking to him. “The heat can make you imagine things.”
“You’re not wrong,” Taeyong says, using his hands to shade his eyes and look near the sun. “It’s always too hot.” The boy gives him a smile, and Taeyong feels himself smile back instinctively.
“I’m Taeil,” he says, sticking his hand out to shake Taeyong’s. He takes it.
“Taeyong.”
“Well, Taeyong, how about we find a better place to get to know each other?” Taeil stands up from the swing with the cat. “There’s a café not too far from here. We won’t have to deal with the heat.”
“Lead the way.” He gestures for Taeil to walk ahead of him, but as they start, the cat jumps out of Taeil’s arms and runs away.
“Hey!” Taeil shouts, surprised, and runs after it. Taeyong, unwilling to be left behind, runs after them both. The cat runs toward the park entrance, so they follow it, even as it runs onto the street.
The stoplight turns red.
Taeyong gasps, sharp and deep, just in time for the thick, unmistakable scent of blood to invade his nose. The shock of the sight brings tears to his eyes, but he can’t rip them away from Taeil’s mangled body on the street, his blood painting the white crosswalk and truck grille a vibrant red. The cat turns around – he’d almost forgotten about it – and laughs at him.
“It’s all real,” it mocks as Taeyong falls to his knees, ignoring the pain that shoots through them when they hit the sidewalk. He blacks out to the sound of the cicadas in the trees, chirping incessantly over the sound of his sobs.
He wakes up with a start, heart beating wildly and threatening to jump out of his chest altogether. The – what was it? A dream? A nightmare? A memory? – replays in his mind as he scrambles to find his phone. He’s in his bed, the same too-bright sunlight pouring through his curtained window. His phone says it’s August 15th, 12:30 in the afternoon. He blinks at the screen, unsure what to make of the date and time. That’s what it was in the dream, wasn’t it? He sets it down and searches for some clothes, a strange sense of déjà vu overcoming him.
Maybe he’ll go to the park.
He lays in the grass this time, part way in the shadow of a tree and the sun. His legs feel too warm, bordering on painfully hot in his skinny jeans, but he can’t be bothered to move. Until he notices a familiar face walking down the sidewalk just outside the park through his narrowed eyes. He sits up, surprised to see him in the same place as in the dream.
“Hey!” he calls out, a tinge of desperation in his tone. He needs to know if he’s imagining it or not. “What’s your name?”
The boy looks at him questioningly, eyebrows pinched together. “I’m Taeil. You already–.”
He gets cut off by the screams of the people walking down the street. Distracted, they both look up, and Taeyong eyes widen with fear. He doesn’t realize he’s already pushed himself up to run to Taeil, doesn’t realize he’s yelling, doesn’t realize Taeil can’t hear him. He only understands that there are tears on his cheeks, falling in a steady stream, and that his throat hurts. The steel pipes the people screamed about pierce Taeil cleanly, lodging in the ground and suspending his body in the air. A frozen image of his death to be imprinted in Taeyong’s mind. He thinks he sees a smile on Taeil’s lips.
It was a truck last time, he remembers hysterically, the sobs tearing his throat apart. He thinks he tastes blood, and his tongue stings. The cat – he remembers it too – sits down in front of him.
“It’s all real,” it purrs devilishly, almost seeming to smirk at him. Taeyong blacks out to the sound of cicadas overshadowing the people’s screams.
This time, he falls down the stairs.
This time, he falls onto the train tracks.
This time, he gets pushed off a bridge.
This time, this time, this time. It all ends the same way; Taeil dies and the cat, the ever-present cat, laughs at him. That it’s not a heat-induced hallucination. That it’s all real.
He wakes up, exhausted beyond belief. He doesn’t check his phone. It’s been the same day for tens of hundreds of cycles. He throws on the same clothes, leaves on the same bus, enters the same park, sits on the same swing. The sun beats down on him, the searing heat so repetitive that Taeyong thinks he’s almost used to it. Taeil comes and sits beside him, just as he has countless times before. The same cat is in his arms.
“You know, I think I kinda hate summer,” Taeyong says, not waiting for Taeil. He’s had enough of this endless summer day. Taeil raises an eyebrow.
“Oh? So do I.”
“Looks like that’s something we have in common.” Taeyong wonders if Taeil knows that this is the same conversation over and over.
“Let’s see if there’s more,” he smiles, standing up from the swing with the cat in his arms. “Do you want to go to this café I know of? It’s just across the street, and we won’t have to deal with this dreadful heat.” Taeyong stands up. He knows what comes next.
“Sure.”
The cat jumps out of Taeil’s arms.
They run after it together.
The light turns red.
Taeyong closes his eyes and waits for the impact.
He’s tired of the cycle. There can only be one ending. He silently apologizes to Taeil.
The screech of tires and the burning smell of rubber are the last things he registers before his body feels like it’s on fire. The ringing in his ears covers Taeil’s cries.
He hopes this is the end. He hopes he’ll black out for the last time. He hopes the cat isn’t laughing anymore.
On August 14th, a boy wakes up with sadness in his eyes. He doesn’t check his phone. He already knows. A black cat jumps on his bed, circling him and rubbing its head against his arms. The boy sighs and picks it up.
“It was useless,” he mumbles, staring out at the sun-bathed city. “I failed this time too.”
The ticking of the clock is drowned out by the cat’s purrs.