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Jisung
Jisung awakens and he knows that something is wrong.
───────
“The wallpaper’s ugly as sin,” bucket hat says, “puke-worthy even.”
“Well, sin,” sharp features guy says with a half laugh, half cough, “I can’t afford new wallpaper so stop complaining.”
Bucket hat drops a box and the thump resounds in the barren flat. “Okay, I won’t complain about the wallpaper specifically, but your flat is fair game. It’s so dreary, I think a cleansing-”
Sharp features guy whacks bucket hat.
───────
Jisung feels nervous even though he has figured out that no one can see him.
“This place is spooky,” accent dude says, “so quiet and watchful.”
“For god’s sake Felix, I thought you of all people will not find fault,” sharp features whines, “it’s not that bad.”
“The plumbing acts up,” Jisung says without even realising he’s speaking. He freezes. What?
Felix opens a takeout container, “it’s not a fault, hyung. It’s atmospheric.”
“Maybe I can start a new project,” sharp features says, “something weird just for a change of pace.”
“Would do you good,” Felix agrees and shoves a piece of kimbap into his mouth.
───────
Jisung doesn’t know what is happening except that he is at his flat and that there is someone else too.
He is not able to get further than that.
───────
Minho – sharp features – spends more time on his phone than he does unpacking. Jisung did that too, so he doesn’t make a fuss about the mess.
Then he realises that he is not corporeal.
───────
“Oh my god, you won’t believe what happened,” Minho says to someone, “a neighbour gave me an ominous warning about this place!”
Jisung creeps into the bedroom though he usually never ventures there because everyone needs privacy. He is fine with the living room.
“Yeah, she said that the dude who lived here previously did experiments or something,” Minho listens, “no! Felix, this is a flat, I am pretty sure a body would’ve been found by now.”
Jisung moves closer still, till he’s near Minho’s side.
“Yeah he left in the middle of the night,” Minho continues, “apparently a couple of cars just rolled up in the dead of the night and the dude packed up his possessions and left.”
He has nice shoulders, Jisung thinks, watching the curve of them flex as Minho gesticulates. He wonders if he can touch.
“Damn, I'm bursting with inspiration now,” Minho says, “maybe this project will pan out after all.”
───────
Three cats come to live with Minho.
“Don’t creep me out by staring too much at random spots, okay?” Minho says to the backs of his cats as they start exploring.
Jisung watches the fond smile on Minho’s face. Something inexplicable crawls down his spine.
“On the other hand please do let me know if there are rats.”
“There are cockroaches,” Jisung says, once again before realising that he’s speaking. “There are cockroaches,” he mumbles, unused to his own voice.
A cat that looks like an orange creamsicle yowls and smacks the remote off the coffee table.
“Oh shit, are you going to sulk because I made you stay in the carrier?” Minho bends to pick up the remote, “because if you do, you’re not getting any salmon.” He picks her up and goes to the kitchen.
───────
Maybe he is a ghost. But he doesn’t feel dead.
Do ghosts feel dead?
───────
One day, when Minho’s not here, Jisung stands in front of the cat tree and tries to get the cat’s attention. They don’t look at him.
He tries again half an hour later.
Then again.
And again.
Result: sometimes they look and sometimes they don’t.
When they do, they hiss at him.
───────
“I am not dreaming,” Jisung says out loud. He knows that he is speaking.
He can’t think of anything beyond that.
───────
“Old lady Choi asked me if I liked living here and I told her yes,” Minho tells Soonie. Soonie meows louder. “She asked if you guys see ghosts and I said no.”
Jisung hovers nearby and watches Minho measure out the food.
“But now I realise it’s because you guys only have your eyes on the food cabinet,” Minho laughs.
Jisung startles and nearly falls when he sees the full force of Minho’s smile.
“No ghosts for me,” Minho says, “only a spooky atmosphere.”
───────
Minho stares at the doorway. “What the fuck?” he grumbles.
He walks to it and inspects it. “Maybe I have floaters,” he says aloud, hand still on the wooden frame, “time for an eye check up.”
The cats don’t reply.
───────
“So what’s the full story?” bucket hat – Changbin – asks. “I only know that the previous tenant left.”
“I don’t think it was all that mysterious. He probably bailed out before paying the rent,” Minho sips his beer, “it’s just a story.”
“Yes,” Changbin says, exasperated, “the story is what I want.”
Jisung joins them but sits a few paces away. He is not a part of them.
Minho reaches for the chicken. “Strange, young dude rents the flat. People say he experimented with stuff but they don’t know what stuff,” he rolls his eyes and bits into the chicken.
Jisung watches.
“They say he kept talking about a new life, a new start without the work that goes into it,” Minho says through a mouthful of chicken. He swallows. “Kept talking about how this was a radical idea that would solve all problems one had in this life.”
“And then he left?” Changbin asks.
Jisung notices that his eyes are wide and that he’s still holding the chicken. It is about to fall.
“Nah. I mean, yeah he left but not immediately after these pronouncements,” Minho sips his beer again, a longer pull. “He brought friends along, had a good time – as far as one can in this economy – and then one day he left in the middle of the night.”
“Strange,” Changbin whispers and Minho raises a brow at him.
“Don’t tell me you think there’s something paranormal going on,” Minho takes another sip. His fingers are tight around the glass.
Changbin is lost in thought, but he rouses himself and takes a huge bite of his chicken. “Maybe he was pretending to be eccentric.”
Minho hums, satisfied.
───────
Jisung stares at the mirror. Coherence and sense is yanked out from him through his stomach.
He touches the mirror. It is unyielding in reflecting empty space.
───────
“I exist to you, but I don’t have a reflection,” Jisung tells the cats. They have not noticed him yet.
“I don’t know what hell is happening,” he says and something like pressure builds in his chest. He thinks he is going to cry, but the tears don’t come.
He watches the cats till Minho comes home.
───────
Minho starts photographing the flat. Jisung flees to Minho’s bedroom.
Minho comes to the bedroom and Jisung runs to the living room. Minho gasps and Jisung turns around to see. For a moment Jisung thinks Minho is staring at him and he feels that pulling sensation again. But then he realises that Minho is staring at the doorway of the bedroom.
He raises his camera and Jisung flees again.
───────
“What.”
“I mean I just thought you’ll like it,” Changbin says, shifting from foot to foot. He holds up a bag. “As a housewarming gift.”
Minho’s eyes are wide. “You mean to say that your house warming gift to me is a-” he pauses, “purification ritual?”
Changbin is bright red. “I know you don’t – believe but it’s just a small ritual. Because of all the shit people talk about your apartment, I thought it would be useful.”
“Do you really believe in this stuff?” Minho demands. His brows are still close to his hairline.
Changbin shrugs. “I’ll get you another gift too, if you want.”
───────
This is not my house, Jisung thinks, staring wide-eyed at the grey and cream walls of Minho’s bedroom. His walls have damp spots. There are no damp spots on the wall, only pretty, shiny things on new shelves.
There’s an exploding noise in his head. There is an exploding noise around him. He yells as something in the room seems to crush him, crush him and then –
───────
Jisung awakens and he finds that things are still the same.
He screams.
───────
His stomach won’t stop churning and he keeps dry heaving even though nothing comes out. He is cold, so cold and his mind is scrambled – he can’t think and everything is too much –
───────
“I know that you don’t believe in these things, but there was a lot of magical residue in here,” Changbin says.
Shivering, Jisung watches him as he packs up his stuff. He still can’t think.
“Maybe,” Minho says and pauses. His mouth opens and closes. “Maybe the previous tenant did – magical experiments?”
“Definitely,” Changbin looks grave, his mouth is a tight line, “the amount of magic,” he shakes his head.
“Can I continue with my project now?” Minho asks with a grin. It looks like a grimace.
Changbin nods.
───────
There are no cockroaches here, only rats. The plumbing works well.
Jisung doesn’t have a reflection. He is incorporeal. The cats see him sometimes. He can’t use anything.
He keeps losing time.
───────
Jisung walks around the flat the whole day. One room to the next to the next. Repeat.
It is so different, Jisung doesn’t know how he never noticed.
It doesn’t have his bookshelf or his lab or his pet lizard or his shelves or carpet or anything that was his. This flat doesn’t hum with his magic. It is silent and plain except for when the cats hiss.
When he is done with inspecting the flat, he studies Minho. Minho seems to be a photographer and he spends most of his time on his phone or playing video games. He never notices Jisung.
But he keeps staring at doorways.
───────
“Woah,” Felix says, squinting at the threshold of the kitchen.
Minho freezes. “Did you see?”
“I don’t know,” Felix touches his pulse, “I just-”
“From the corner of your eyes?” Minho grasps his hand eagerly.
Jisung looks at the threshold, too then turns and looks at it from the corner of his eyes. He doesn’t see anything.
The other two don’t see him.
───────
“I am going mad,” Minho whispers into the phone, “Changbin what the fuck.”
Jisung walks towards him and Minho’s eyes stay frozen on the doorway.
“I saw it again.” His voice is faint.
Jisung stares at his face, at the tremble in his lips and the width of his eyes. He’s sweating.
Jisung feels cold. He reaches out and touches Minho’s shoulder.
“Please,” Minho mutters and Jisung drops his hand.
“Minho,” he says.
“What should I do?”
“Can you see me?”
“Okay, okay. I’ll be there in half an hour,” Minho cuts the call and runs to his bedroom.
Jisung yells in fury.
───────
Minho is never at home and he doesn’t continue with his project.
Whenever he is at the flat – twice a day, to feed the cats – he keeps glancing all around him and never hears Jisung yelling and cursing and sobbing.
Jisung can feel his sense of self slip away and he doesn’t know what he is. He stares at his hands and thinks of Hyunjin. He stares at the undamaged walls and the cats and thinks of how Seungmin uses the same brand of cat food that Minho does.
Sometimes he feels like he’s watching a movie, like he is going about his day with no input from him. Sometimes, he feels like he doesn’t exist at all.
───────
“Changbin, Changbin,” Minho says and his voice is high with excitement. “I spoke to old lady Choi again and she gave me the previous tenants number.”
Jisung sits on the sofa and follows Minho’s footsteps with his eyes.
“I told her he left some stuff behind, but when he comes here I am going to hand his ass over to him for all the bullshit he did in this flat.”
Jisung wonders what Minho is talking about. He wonders if it is another ghost.
───────
The day the previous tenant arrives, Jisung paces alongside Minho. He has a feeling that the previous tenant is the answer and he wants to know what has happened to him.
When the bell rings, Jisung follows Minho to the door. The door opens and Jisung sees a small man with dark hair, an oval shaped face and full cheeks. The man talks and then enters the flat.
“I am Han Jisung,” the man says, “nice to meet you, Minho-ssi.”
It takes Jisung that long to comprehend that he is looking at Han Jisung. To comprehend that the previous tenant is Han Jisung.
To comprehend that he himself is, Han Jisung.
───────
Minho
It is probably shallow of him, but his anger and frustration just melts when he sees that Han Jisung is cute as fuck. He’s huddled in a coat that is three sizes too big for him and his eyes are wide. Plus, he blushes when Minho shakes his hand.
Fuck.
“Mrs. Choi told me that you had some of my stuff,” Jisung says, fiddling with his fingers. “But I am assuming it is something else.”
Minho snaps out of his trance and flushes when he realises he has been staring at Jisung. Great. Way to be a creep. “Sorry,” he clears his throat. “Um, yes.”
Jisung sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “I am sorry for all this trouble. I should’ve done a purification ritual before I left.”
Minho blinks and stares at Jisung. Jisung’s eyes flit to his before darting away. “My friend did a purification ritual already,” he says slowly, “that’s when the problem got worse.”
Minho can see the colour leeching off Jisung’s face. “What problem?” Jisung asks, swallowing hard.
“A flicker in the doorway,” Minho says, his eyes moving to the doorway without his permission. He tears his gaze away, stomach dropping even though there’s nothing there. “Like there’s something there.”
Jisung is so pale that Minho is worried. He reaches out a hand, but drops it. “Are you okay?” he asks.
“I need some water,” Jisung whispers.
───────
“You know the theory that every decision you make splits the timeline?” Jisung asks, his fingers trembling when he places them on the table.
“No,” Minho says, like he has been saying every time Changbin asks if he knew a particular aspect of magic. Magic . Good lord.
Jisung smiles, but it is fleeting. “It’s a theory,” he says, “that says that when you make a decision, you continue living in the world where you made it,” he rubs the back of his neck again, “and like, there’s another universe where you didn’t make that decision, or maybe you chose a third option,” he shrugs. “These are the parallel universes that are the closest to your existence.”
“Right,” Minho says. His head spins and there’s a cold prickle at the back of his neck. He grabs the edge of the table.
Jisung laughs, but it is forced. “So basically, I thought to myself, sometimes you’re forced to make decisions that you don’t want to, or maybe you always wonder what would’ve happened if you’d chosen something else, you know.”
“How will that help with creating a new life?” Minho asks.
Jisung tilts his head. “It won’t,” he says, “I called it regret management and vicarious living” he pauses, shrugs, “terms and conditions apply.”
Minho catches movement from the corner of his eyes. He jumps and whips around, but sees that it is only Dori trotting inside the kitchen. Fuck. His heart is hammering in his chest.
Jisung looks guiltier than before, his lips caught between his teeth. “On the day of the eclipse – 5th June – I tried it out.”
Minho had moved in a week later. Dori weaves around his feet. “What happened?” he asks even though Jisung is pushing himself deeper and deeper into his chair.
Jisung licks his reddened lips, looks away. “It was terrible. I had to move before the other witches found out.”
Silence. Minho can hear the refrigerator hum.
“But I was able to open the portal between dimensions before it went haywire. And there was - flickering at the doorways.”
Minho feels his breath clog in his throat. “What does it mean?” he points at the kitchen door.
“Something got out,” Jisung whispers and his voice is so low that it melts into the ambient noise of the room. He startles and his mouth drops open.
Minho looks at the doorway.
Something flickers in the doorway. It is like reality is glitching, shattering and merging together every second. It is human sized and Minho suddenly feels so heavy that he is surprised he hasn’t fallen. His breath wheezes through his teeth and the flicker vanishes.
───────
Jisung stays over.
Minho demands that he stays over and Jisung acquiesces with a tiny nod. He doesn’t speak at all and Jisung hovers uncertainty in the living room looking at the cats or flipping through a worn journal.
Minho stress cooks. He has a headache, but he is so twitchy that the thought of lying down is torture. He takes a couple of paracetamol and chops vegetables with a ferocity that his knives probably won’t bear. There’s been a literal ghost in his flat just because a college student wanted to dabble in ‘regret management.’
“I think it is me,” Jisung says behind him and Minho whirls around, clutching the knife to his chest.
“Don’t do that!” Minho barks and then deflates when Jisung deflates. “Sorry. I just-” he rubs a hand over his face, “I’m just jumpy.”
Jisung wraps his arms around himself. “I understand. I am sorry, too, for being such an idiot. I should behave like the novice that I am.”
He’s so tiny. Minho can’t be mad at him. He sighs. “It’s alright.”
Jisung steps closer. “I think it might be my parallel universe self,” he says, “or at least part of him.”
“He’s been trapped here for weeks?” Minho blanches, his heart dropping.
“No!” Jisung holds up a hand and shakes his head, “yes, I mean – he’s trapped but he’s probably not conscious because - he’s - trapped in our world without magic, you know. It’s just a bit of his essence without magic. If I went to” Jisung hesitates, “his universe without being magically anchored it would be nothing basically.”
“So, it’s his…soul?”
“No,” Jisung steps closer still. “There are four parts: the essence, the magic, the soul and the body. The essence is just a bit of who you are,” he frowns in thought, “the energy you produce by existing.”
Minho is more confused than ever and he jumps when Jisung claps his hand.
“See the sound I made because I clapped? The essence is that – the sound so to speak, of my existence. Without my body it is just leftover energy, but my body and soul still exist, they’ll produce new essence. Theoretically, they should.”
“So if he goes back?” Minho asks, staring at the door where… the Other Jisung stands.
“He’ll become whole.”
───────
Jisung is a prolific texter. He talks more over text than face to face, and Minho finds himself talking to Jisung for hours.
He’s smart, brilliant, funny. Minho is smitten and his cheeks hurt with how much he smiles.
Sometimes, he catches sight of those flickers and though his heart throbs, he’s not too worried. It’s like a shadow anyway, based on what Jisung described. A shadow that doesn’t belong in this world, yes, but still a shadow.
Minho offers a smile to the shadow too and wonders what Jisung from the parallel universe is doing.
───────
“When is the next eclipse?” Minho asks, a week of discussions later, sitting beside Jisung on the floor.
Jisung flips through a page in his journal. “August. Why?”
“What will we do till August?” Minho asks.
Jisung bites his lips. He grips the book between his fingers. “I don’t know. We’ll need to prepare for the ritual.”
“I see,” Minho says with a strange heat in his stomach, “I see.”
He decides to take a leap.
───────
Jisung
Jisung hides in the kitchen every time This World’s Jisung comes to visit. He comes over often.
It makes his skin crawl when This Jisung behaves the same as him. Same laugh, same voice, same jokes.
Minho stumbles into the kitchen, This Jisung holding on to him, his lips nipping at his shoulder. Minho moans, but valiantly opens the kitchen cabinet. “Jisungie, wait, let me feed the cats.”
“Yes, yes,” This Jisung says, his fingers brushing over Minho’s nipples. Minho gasps. “You feed them, but I am going to have my fun.”
Jisung should move away, but he can’t. He watches his fingers tease Minho’s nipples, his teeth suck marks on Minho’s neck, his laugh echoes in the room when Minho whines and drops the can.
“Fuck, fuck,” Minho chants as he pours out the food with shaky fingers. This Jisung’s hand is inside his sweatpants.
Jisung leaves when This Jisung drags Minho to the sofa and crawls on top of him. Jisung stares at the grey and cream walls in the bedroom and wonders what This Jisung will think if he knew that Jisung’s essence is anchored to magic.
───────
“I am kind of glad that you messed around so much,” Minho says, combing This Jisung’s hair with deft fingers, “or this wouldn’t have ever happened.”
“Yeah,” This Jisung smiles, pecking Minho’s cheek, “pays to break the rules, I guess.”
───────
Jisung burns and he burns. He can’t think as he howls with rage.
───────
This Jisung makes Minho laugh. This Jisung keeps talking about his magic and his progress. This Jisung is on the top of the world.
───────
Sometimes Jisung stands in the doorway of the living room and waits for the cats to notice him. He stands and listens to their yowling basking in the warmth of attention.
Eventually, they just sit near him and watch him.
───────
“I brought soup,” This Jisung announces, holding a bag up. “It’ll clear your sinuses in minutes.”
“I hope so,” Minho groans.
Jisung watches This Jisung heat the same soup that he makes for Seungmin and Hyunjin.
“I make it for my friends all the time,” this Jisung says, “they swear by it. Plus, I am willing to cuddle you even though you’re gross. You’ll be fine in no time.”
This Jisung is the little spoon. He doesn’t stop smiling when Minho cuddles closer to him and puts a leg over his hip.
Jisung shivers.
───────
“I’m kinda allergic to fur,” This Jisung mumbles, face beet red.
Minho’s mouth drops open. “What?”
“I’ve been taking anti-allergic tablets,” This Jisung says, “Mrs. Choi told me you have cats, so yeah.”
“I-” Minho’s eyes keep darting from the cat This Jisung is holding, and to his face.
“But, now I love them, so I am glad that anti-allergic pills exist,” This Jisung shrugs.
Minho’s eyes are shining and picks up Dori and places her on the floor. He cups This Jisung’s face and kisses him.
Jisung watches the cats swarm around them and he wants to cry.
───────
“Sometimes I feel like we were meant to meet,” This Jisung says. His ears are red.
Minho turns from the stove. “We just click, don’t we?”
This Jisung nods. “I’m glad I met you.”
Minho lowers the heat. He pulls This Jisung into a hug. “I am glad I met you too.”
───────
“Moon washed sand,” This Jisung reads out, “a sturdy brick, a handful of moss that grows in the shadows, and a steady source of light. Changbin creating another distracting source of magic?”
“Done, done, done,” Minho says, “and done.”
“Wish me luck,” Jisung says, mixing the sand and the moss.
Minho kisses him. The lights grow brighter.
Jisung memorises everything that This Jisung is doing. He burns it in his memory.
───────
Jisung awakens and he finds that he is in his bedroom.
He faints.
───────
“You kept pulling on your magic so much that we had to pull from the ley lines,” Hyunjin says. “It burned your core, Jisungie.”
Jisung closes his eyes.
“You wouldn’t have survived without it,” Seungmin says, voice low and warm, “you wouldn’t have been able to make this journey back.”
“Hurts,” Jisung mumbles.
“I know, sleep now.”
“It’ll take months to heal,” Jisung says, tears burning in his eyes.
“You’re alive, at least.” Seungmin kisses his forehead.
───────
In this world, Lee Minho is still a photographer but he lives miles away.
Jisung takes in his face, his hair, and his cats. He looks so different. His hair is a different colour. His cats are different. He has a boyfriend.
Jisung closes the tab.
───────
“When he opened the portal, you were drawn to it,” Seungmin says, weeks later. “You went to a liminal space, the graveyard, and collapsed there. We found you a day later,” his lips are bloodless. “You wouldn’t wake up because your essence was gone and so was your magic.”
“In his world there was a building where the graveyard here is,” Jisung says, stretching his leg, “but it makes sense why I only appeared in doorways there.”
“I wonder what would’ve happened if the liminality hadn’t carried over,” Hyunjin says and then slaps a hand over this mouth.
“Nothing good,” Jisung laughs.
───────
“So, since I am from the closest parallel universe to him, I can do magic,” Jisung says, hollow. “He didn’t even consider it. He thought he was the only special one who would do advanced, foolish magic as a Novice. And the magic from the ley lines probably made me more aware than I would’ve been otherwise.”
Hyunjin’s face is white as a sheet. “I am so sorry, Jisungie.”
He shakes his head. “It is good that I saw everything.” He pauses. “When is the next eclipse?”
“November, why?”
“Then that’s enough time,” Jisung smiles, “to settle some scores.”
Finish.