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In this life, it was… fuck, he hated this life.
He was a coward. Or maybe not. He tried to applaud himself with that too heavy of a ring, that God-forsaken velvet box of hurt. It hadn’t been on a whim—he already had nine lifetimes to think it over, and almost thought this would be the one. It would be a life where he wouldn’t spend it pining over this soul, this too bright of a laugh, this heart-sinking depth of her eyes. Over different bodies and minds he always wound up staring at them seconds too long. It was the one distinct part of her that pulls him back home, every single time.
In this life, maybe he should be grateful. It didn’t take too long before recognizing those eyes, stuck in that small alley together, realizing it was his childhood friend from the start. Too close, he thought. In his last life, he met her as two elderlies in a nursing home.
In his last life, she had died first.
And so he was bluffing, or so they said, in this life. He played along with a laugh. She was sitting across him, long hair tied up in a low ponytail, eyes lingering everywhere. She didn’t even touch the ring box. Dongryong scoffed, followed by Sunwoo, and he inevitably let out a stifled chuckle. Was it a joke? Did she ever know? Fuck me, he thought, seeing the break of a laugh from her lips, she never even stopped looking at the door.
He was a coward, he decided, as he sat behind the steering wheel of his Jeep in the pouring rain. This was too melodramatic. This wasn’t his fifth life, where he was a dying peasant from the Plague and she was the neighbor discovering him a little too late. There wasn’t any war, like his seventh life, where they were two platoonmates saving each other’s last breath. This was a normal, peaceful, too young of an age for heartbreak.
And yet he spat out a full heartfelt monologue that she didn’t even realize was true in its every word. He left the ring box on the table out of shame.
So when he left this life first, he didn’t know that she visited his grave, crying for closure. There was another ring on her finger. Her fiancee, his best friend who grew up with them, stood silently with wet eyes.
-
And so in the next life, he found her a little bit later. They spoke the same language, born in neighboring cities, met in the same big metropolitan of smoke and dust.
He was a small-time actor, she was a big name in the industry. This was supposed to be a big gig he landed through his agent, while she had never even acted before. Celebrity actresses are the worst, his agent said, sneering when she walked through the door. They knew each other by name, friend of a friend of a friend, but never shared a stage. Too different of a career. Different stages of success.
He saw her again just before they enter pre-reading. She was in front of the vending machine, coin inside the slot, but still haven’t chosen her drink. Startled herself when she realized he was behind her, and she said, “oh, sorry. I always take too long choosing these.”
Eleven lives, this time, and he still hadn’t forgotten what she liked best. He reached out a finger without hesitation, to her surprise, and clang fell the can of strawberry Milkis.
She took the cold can with wide eyes—amazed, or freaked, or both. “I was thinking of getting this or—”
“The cold milk?” he interjected, drinking in the amazement in her stare. Before she could scrunch her forehead in confusion, he continued, “I love those too.”
There was a laugh out of her, black hair styled shoulder-length, a look in her eyes that he knew all too well. With the can on her other hand she tucked a stray hair behind her ears.
“I know we’re gonna work together, and we probably kind of know each other by now, but I should still introduce myself,” she said in a mix of awkwardness and courtesy, “I’m Lee Hyeri.”
He nodded curtly, pressing the curve on the edges of his mouth.
“Ryu Junyeol,” he tried to keep his voice from breaking, as his heart is full of longing and relief, “it’s nice to meet you.”