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The heat is still cloying at eight thirty when Win leaves the pool with Team. It lifts off the cement in waves and swathes their bare arms and legs with a thick layer of boggy moisture on top of the remnants of chlorine that their brisk joint shower didn’t remove.
Of course, none of that sways Win from slinging an arm across Team’s shoulders and walking extra close to him as they head for his motorcycle in the parking lot. Even Team’s grimace seems perfunctory at best. They’ve been a lot grosser and closer than this, and their tolerance for it has definitely ascended above (or descended below) a civilized norm.
Don’t think I don’t notice you leaning into me, Win thinks at Team. At this hour, the campus is dark and deserted, so Win thinks nothing of darting in and pressing a kiss against Team’s temple.
Team elbows his chest absently.
Ever since he was young, Win has kept lists in his mind of the next several tasks he needs to take care of. This organization of the immediate future has always helped him with school, with his brothers, with club activities, and most recently, with Team. He wouldn’t be able to balance everything he’s accepted responsibility for without a system, and right now, the four he’s focused on are: drive back to the dorm, have dinner, shower for real, and go to sleep. All with Team, of course.
Of course.
Over the past month, the amount of time they’ve spent together has elevated to a nearly constant state, and Win has grown nearly delirious from the bone-deep contentment of it all. He takes every opportunity he can get just to soak in the satisfaction of knowing that Team wants to be around him just as much as Win wants to be around Team.
He’s about to ask Team what he wants to eat for dinner when two people wink into existence a few meters in front of them, right next to Win’s motorcycle.
Win stops, his arm flexing around Team’s shoulders to bring him closer.
What the—
The two people who shouldn’t have been able to do what they just did are in neutral-colored clothes of a cut and style Win’s never seen before—and their faces look exactly like his and Team’s.
The guy who looks like Win doesn’t seem to have noticed Win or Team yet. He’s focused on the guy next to him who looks like Team. “I told you not to—give me that.” He swipes some small object from the hand of the Team lookalike, who makes a mild noise of protest.
“They must be close by.” The Team lookalike turns his head and locks eyes with Win, brightening immediately. He smacks the shoulder of the Win lookalike and says, “Look, there we are!” with triumph.
The Win lookalike makes a noise Win himself once made when his leg cramped up in the final stretch of a race. “They can see us!”
“Oh,” says the Team lookalike, grimacing. “I think you’re right. Oops.”
The Win lookalike shoots him a furious glance, and then, somehow, they’re gone.
Win’s brain moves in six directions at once to explain what he’s just seen, covering thoughts like someone drugged me at lunch and this is a dream and Pruk’s YouTuber friend is somehow behind this. He’s not at all paying attention to Team, not until Team yanks on his arm and says, “Come on!”
Win resists, still focused on the empty space in front of them and trying to make sense of the vanishing people who look like them part of this day.
“Hia, come on, they’re up there!”
Win, in a rare fit of confusion, follows Team without a word.
Team leads them at a sprint into the economics building (“I saw them on the roof!”) and then up five flights of stairs. Before Team can touch the door handle, though, Win whispers, “Wait.”
Team blinks at Win over his shoulder. “What? Quick, they’re gonna disappear again.”
The part of Win’s brain that handles survival is saying don’t pursue the weird thing—go home and forget it ever happened, but judging by Team’s expression, Team’s not leaving until he figures out what’s going on. And Win is not leaving without Team.
Groaning, Win drags his hands through his hair. “Fuck. Just be quiet. Don’t let them see us.”
Team nods, solemn, and opens the door at a glacial pace.
As Team said, their lookalikes are there on the roof, now at a cautious distance from the edge. Win pushes Team’s head down a bit so he can see over him and experiences a second shock because—they’re not just lookalikes. They might as well be clones. No one knows Win’s face better than Win, and Win spends even more of his time looking at Team’s. There’s no doubt in his mind, but there sure are questions.
“What the fuck,” Win whispers. A chill tunnels through his chest. “What the fuck, what the fuck.”
“Hia, shh.”
Win closes his mouth with a clack of teeth, but only because he can’t think of anything else to say.
What the fuck?
Outside, their doppelgängers are bickering at a normal speaking volume in what they clearly assume is the total privacy of a university building roof after sunset.
“Why did you take this?” Win’s doppelgänger demands. He holds up the small object he took from Team’s doppelgänger in the parking lot. Even from a distance, Win can see a few details that would suggest it’s a pocketwatch. Win’s doppelgänger’s grasp on it is tight, as if dropping it is unimaginable.
“I just told you,” Team’s doppelgänger says, “I want to prove that we make sense.” He makes a swipe for the object, but Win’s doppelgänger thrusts the hand he’s holding it in behind his back.
“We should get out of here,” Win whispers, eyes wide. At some point, he put both hands on Team’s shoulders, and now his fingers are starting to ache from the grip he has on them. “This is too weird.”
“Hia, shut up,” Team hisses. “I want to hear.”
Win’s doppelgänger seems to put something together, because his eyebrows lift and his mouth opens in silent outrage. “Wait—you’ve done this before, haven’t you?”
Team’s doppelgänger sighs like he’s putting up with someone unimaginably unreasonable. “It’s not a big deal,” he says. “No one saw me last time. I just messed up this time because we were arguing and I forgot to set the display thing. Look, can I have it back? I’ve still got a few more places I want to show you.” He puts his hand out and, eerily, makes the same face Team makes whenever he knows Win has an extra bag of Lay’s hidden somewhere in the room and doesn’t want to give it to him.
Win’s doppelgänger is, however, strangely resilient to it. “No,” he says. He holds the pocketwatch against the small of his back, his grip around it secure. “We’re going back to our own universe and you’re putting this back and we’re not talking about this anymore. Got it?”
Win’s own mouth has since fallen open. “Are they—from a parallel universe?” he whispers.
Team doesn’t answer this time, but his shoulders have locked up under Win’s hands.
The current of insouciant energy that’s been fueling Team’s doppelgänger up until now fades, his mouth turning down in crestfallen disappointment. “Hia,” he says, “please?” When Win’s doppelgänger doesn’t move or say anything more, Team’s doppelgänger reaches out to him and catches a fold of his long shirt, made from a material that bunches like silk between his fingers. “I know what you said, but I checked. I checked hundreds—”
“Hundreds?”
“Yes! Hundreds! It took a really long time!”
Win’s doppelgänger exhales a laugh and shakes his head. “You took this without permission and visited hundreds of other universes just to check if we—”
“Yes! Listen! Whatever! You saw what we’re like here, right? Down there? We’re all over each other!”
Win’s doppelgänger rolls his eyes. “That doesn’t prove anything. You don’t know what the cultural norms are like in this universe. You didn’t do any research before you came to ‘observe’ these universes, did you?”
Team’s doppelgänger opens his mouth, then closes it. His fist tightens on Win’s doppelgänger’s shirt.
Everything about this is peculiar, of course, but for Win, what’s somehow more peculiar is seeing any version of himself rejecting an open offer to be with Team. It feels very deeply wrong. Only half aware he’s doing it, Win rubs his thumbs over Team’s shoulders.
There’s nothing in this universe that would deter him from doing all he can to make Team happy, that’s for sure.
“You know what you saw,” Team’s doppelgänger says. “We’re like that in all of them! Believe me. Okay? I promise.” Their eyes are locked now, and Team’s doppelgänger is breathing in quick bursts. “We’re good together, hia, I promise. I can show you.” He holds his hand out for the pocketwatch without looking away from Win’s doppelgänger’s eyes. “We’ve already seen one. Let me show you some more, c’mon.”
Win has no idea what’s going on—is, in fact, still thoroughly freaked out by all of this—but seeing any version of Team looking so vulnerable and anxious puts a knife through his heart. Win thinks, Don’t you dare say no to that face, at this other version of himself.
Win’s doppelgänger sighs, drops his head back, and then they’re both gone.
Something in the air makes it feel permanent this time.
Just like it did in the parking lot the first time their doppelgängers disappeared, Win’s mind strains to make sense of what he just watched and heard. So, just like in the parking lot, he’s not paying attention to Team, not until Team stands up and his head crashes into Win’s jaw.
“Ow, fuck!”
“Hia, that was so weird.”
“You’re telling me?”
Team’s grin spreads wide, then he hops on his heels a little and says, “That was so cool and so weird! There are other versions of us! That multiverse thing is real!”
Win shudders. “Yeah, great.” He shoves the door to the roof closed just in case they come back. He’s not a fan of other versions of himself, if that’s what they’re like.
Team seems to follow the same line of thinking, his eyebrows drawing down into a frown as he smacks Win’s arm. “Why didn’t that you want to date that me?” he demands.
Win makes a sharp noise of indignant objection. “How the fuck am I supposed to know? You think I have any idea what that asshole was thinking?” He rubs his arm, stung by the implication that he’s anything like that guy. “I wouldn’t ever treat you like that,” he says quietly. “You know I wouldn’t, right?”
The annoyance slides off of Team’s face, replaced by something more complex and infinitely more fond. “Hia….”
“Hi, sorry.”
The voice startles both of them nearly into their next life, but it’s just Team’s doppelgänger. He’s leaning casually on the wall a few steps above the landing where they’re standing with Win’s doppelgänger sitting a step below him holding the pocketwatch and looking deeply unsettled by them.
Team’s doppelgänger grins with fondness at Win. “Thank you for that,” he says. “Sorry you saw us, and sorry about this.”
He points down at Win’s doppelgänger, who adjusts some dial on the pocketwatch.
•
Sunlight presses pale and sharp against Win’s eyelids as a breeze sails over his face.
“Hia,” Team sighs, tucking his face against Win’s neck, “curtains.”
Win opens his eyes, curious about the same thing, and tenses when he sees not his or Team’s ceiling above them, but a cloudless pink and turquoise sky, and the sun ascending over the edge of the roof beside them.
In a rush, Win remembers: he had the idea to bring Team up here after practice last night to stargaze and make out. They must’ve fallen asleep. Stupid idea, in retrospect. He should’ve taken Team directly back to the dorm. He remembers planning on it, but some romantic whims must be obeyed.
Besides, he’s never seen sunrise with Team before.
Wincing at the rough texture of the roof under his back, Win turns onto his side and props his head on his palm, watching Team sleep. Gripped in a deep swell of gratitude, Win traces the contour of Team’s cheek with two fingers and whispers, “Morning, baby.”
Team gives an ornery grunt and pushes his face against Win’s chest. “M’rnn,” he mumbles.
Win laughs and ruffles the back of Team’s hair.
First task of the day: bring Team home.