Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

They’re driving on what is quite possibly the longest stretch of road Sangyeop has ever seen in his life. He swears they took the turn over an hour ago because he remembers this exact curve of black tarmac, and if there were any officers nearby, he would have been pulled over in a heartbeat. The GPS had long gone out of commission, and so all he has now is the setting sun, a half-crumpled map, and Gwangil’s incoherent singing to some English pop song from memory. Only two of those were of any use to him.

“You would think, that on your 46^th try, you would be able to sing it without messing up the refrain?” Gwangil rolls his eyes at Sangyeop’s comment and somehow starts singing even louder and purposefully off-key. He swears that if his hands didn’t have to be on the wheel, they would be wrapped around a certain person’s neck.

Sangyeop doesn’t know how many times he’s done this by now, but he’s always been doing it alone. He finds it less burdensome when only he bears the weight of watching clients pass, and at some point, you become desensitized to it. Another day, another quota. Unfortunately, the higher-ups at Mystic corp. had decided the solitude wasn’t doing him any favors and so Gwangil was introduced as his teammate. It’s not like he hates him per say, but Sangyeop can only take so much of the fumbling rookie and Olivia Rodrigo lyrics before he puts in his two-week notice. “I swear if you sing it again one more-“

“Isn’t that the turn we’re supposed to take?”

“Shit.” One quick screech of the tires and a few jostled briefcases later, they’re headed down a small forest road at a much milder speed. It’s a bit intimidating how the trees tower on either side of them, since the breadth of his experience with things this tall is exclusively Seoul’s downtown skyline. Here, Sangyeop feels like a different kind of small.

Fortunately, it’s not long before the thickness fades and a much too large estate comes into view. It’s one of the biggest homes he’s ever seen in his 27 years of life with mountains of weathered gray stone, sides that appear to be more ivy than walls, and the remnants of a long-forgotten fountain crumbled by the entrance. A place like this seems more apt for storybooks of rolling European countryside and not the outskirts of Gwangju.

The sheer volume of the estate blends into the forest and Sangyeop is convinced there’s a whole other part they can’t see, can’t wrap their heads around. On top of its looming size, there’s something a little eerie about the air that he just can’t place. On the drive here, they hadn’t seen a single sign of life, barring a lone rabbit that took its time crossing the road.

As they pull into the track length driveway, Gwangil rolls down the window and lets out a low whistle. “Damn, so this is how the Shins can afford to funnel so much into Mystic every year huh? I think I have a newfound appreciation for the bathrooms donated in their name. We have bidets.”

“They’re not our biggest donor for no reason. Now stop eyeing up the place and help me get the stuff out of the trunk.”

“Aye aye captain.”  

Before either of them can exit the car, a face appears in the window next to Sangyeop’s and he nearly curses in surprise. It’s an older man with salt and pepper hair and a smartly pressed navy suit jacket. His mouth, well framed with smile lines, is not smiling. In fact, he looks rather soulless as he motions them to roll down the window, to which Sangyeop quickly obliges.

“Misters Choi and Shin from Mystic I presume?”

Gwangil flashes a grin and pats the side of the door where their logo is embossed in royal blue. MYSTIC CORP., and then in smaller letters, WHERE DREAMS COME TO YOU. “What gave it away?”

The man gives them a thin smile. “You both can head up and see to the young master. We’ll have your equipment carried up shortly.”

Both of them look at the old man skeptically. This was some expensive equipment on their hands and neither of them ever let it out of their sights. Hell, Gwangil had even told him he’s had several nightmares in which they accidentally take a turn a little too hard and something becomes damaged beyond repair. He shudders at the thought.

“The Shins have a wealth of experience in dealing with the affairs of Mystic and all of its offerings. You will be leaving your things in good hands; it is more pressing that you see Master Yechan as soon as possible. He doesn’t…” The man drifts off in the middle of his sentence and his lips tug into a frown. There’s a pained expression in his eyes that Sangyeop finds all too familiar. “…he doesn’t have much time.”

Knowing that time is of the essence in their line of work, he begrudgingly motions Gwangil to leave the car. The older man gives them a slight nod and flags down another person in a suit jacket to escort them into the estate. This new person is younger, maybe closer to their age, but spares no introductions as he ushers them to the entrance. As they briskly walk through the halls, Sangyeop takes note of how rich and warm the interior is, and how a single item on any dresser would easily be worth a year’s salary to him. Gilded paintings plaster the walls and crystal lights spill from the ceilings, he even catches a glimpse of an exotic taxidermized animal as they round one corner and go into the next. Strangely enough, for how massive the place is, it’s dead silent. He’s afraid to even cough.

“So, who exactly is Shin Yechan? There wasn’t much to go off on the file we received, we know almost nothing about the guy.” Gwangil’s voice breaks the silence that Sangyeop had been carefully treading and he shoots a pointed look at the rookie, a warning. The other looks back at him and mouths a silent so what? They would have to have a long talk later about social etiquette it seems; you don’t exactly ask about a dying patient so bluntly like that. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“I must confess I don’t know much about Master Yechan. I was brought into the house long after the Shin parents left, and the young master was already bedridden by then. The last few months of my work here has been ensuring the estate does not fall into ruin. I suppose if anyone is to know the young master it would be his friend.”

“Friend?”

“I believe his name is Cho Wonsang, he has been in and out of the estate ever since Master Yechan fell ill. They appear to be very close. Oh, and the man you met earlier was the one who largely raised the young master, he is Wonsang’s father. Mr. Cho has been here far longer than any of us. It’s a shame what happened.” Gwangil raises his eyebrow at Sangyeop and he just shrugs. There was no mention of a friend, an illness, or an estate in any of Yechan’s file. It was all a very vague situation. “We are here.”

They stop in front of these huge wooden doors that could fit two basketball players stacked on top of each other. Sangyeop doesn’t know why any doors in the world needed to be this big, it’s not as if the average man was over 8 feet.

“I will be standing right outside in case you both need my assistance. Your belongings and equipment should be brought up shortly, I believe it was mentioned you would only be staying a night?”

Both Sangyeop and Gwangil give each other a look. “If we’re any good at our jobs, a night will be all we need.”

The man nods and steps aside. Sangyeop pulls the door handle and dearly hopes for this to be a simple case. But of course, with his luck, nothing will go as he wishes. 

Chapter Text

The first thing Sangyeop notices are the curtains which surround the room, which look extremely expensive and more importantly, ugly. They’re the muddiest blend of oranges and browns with a questionable pattern, and he has to wonder why rich people always had the worst tastes in interior design.

Secondly, he takes notice of the enormous bed in the center of the room and the still body within it, which is surrounded by an assortment of beeping machines and lines which snake every which way to connect to their currently unconscious client. Shin Yechan is just shy of 30, but Sangeyop can’t believe the man is a day over 22. He’s young, way too young to be dying like this, and the man feels a sense of pity wash over him. His photo in the file had done him no justice at all, and even without moving any closer, he can tell the other is rather attractive with his high cheekbones and sharp nose. Sangyeop also notes that Yechan’s hair is a distressingly similar color to the curtains, but somehow less egregious.

“Are you…the dream people?”

Looking away from the bed, Sangyeop notices another man standing at the edge of the room, and he doesn’t know how he missed him in the first place. The other easily towers over the both of them, and while this would have been normally intimidating, this man looks like he couldn’t hurt a fly. Of course, Sangyeop knows that looks could be deceiving.

“Yes, I suppose that’s what we do.”

“And you’re here to grant Yechan’s last wish?” He notices how the man stutters on the word last.

“We will try our hardest. I assume you’re Mr. Cho Wonsang? We were notified of your presence and of your relationship with our client. Are you two?...” Sangyeop trails his sentence to allow the other to fill in the blanks.

Wonsang pauses for a brief moment. “His friend, his best friend in fact.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he spies Gwangil swiftly writing in a small notebook, probably recording mundane observations and his first impressions of Wonsang. It was a useful habit they often referred back to, since Sangyeop was more of the type to commit things to memory. Speaking of mundanity, he sighs and prepares himself to give the same speech he’s given a countless number of times.

“Mr. Cho, I am-“

“Oh, please call me Wonsang. Mr. Cho makes me feel like my father.”

“Alright, Wonsang it is. Wonsang, we are Choi Sangyeop and Shin Gwangil from Mystic Corp, and we are here to grant Shin Yechan his final wish before he passes. While we cannot guarantee that this will always be accomplished, our success rate is extremely high. What we will do is go into Yechan’s memories and explore the course of his life. There, we will artificially make changes that will influence his decisions, and hopefully put him on a path toward achieving his final dream. Artificially of course since he’s…unresponsive at the moment.” At the last sentence, Sangyeop can’t help but glance over at the mass of humming life support machines. “Do you have any questions?”

“A lot actually.”

“Most people do. Unfortunately, if it’s about the process, we don’t know much either. All we do is strap ourselves into the machine and it whisks us away in his mind. Child’s play actually.”

Sangyeop elbows Gwangil in the ribs. “Please ignore my colleague, what we do is simpler than you would think, but it is not child’s play.”

Wonsang slowly nods and Sangyeop takes it as a sign to continue.

“Prior to this, we’ve mostly dealt with the elderly. This time, we are making a very special exception, being this is a personal request from the Shin family. Unfortunately, not much was presented to us in his file, and we wanted to wait until we were in person to ask for clarification. Would you happen to be able and willing to clarify his final wish to us?” He beckons to Gwangil, who leans over to Wonsang and shows him Yechan’s largely empty file, with only one short sentence written at the bottom.

I wish to go to the moon.

They wait for him to say something, anything, but Wonsang is silent. He just stares at the words for what seems like an eternity. Sangyeop notes his distant gaze but he’s not inclined to pry, this was something the pair didn’t need to know at the moment. It seemed like there was much more to the history between them than Wonsang let on, and while they weren’t privy to those matters, he knows they’ll come up in Yechan’s memories if they were important enough. Only when Gwangil clears his throat is the other man broken out of his reverie.

“Yeah, that’s his wish.”

The pair look at each other in slight confusion. “…Like…the actual moon? Not some place named “The Moon” or something? A bar? A nightclub? A retirement home?”

“The actual moon.”

Sure, they’ve dealt with a wide range of requests before. From clients wishing for one last word to their loved ones to extravagant trips around the world, Sangyeop and Gwangil were sure they’ve seen it all. Now, they’re at a loss for words, and all Sangyeop has running through his brain is how the actual hell are we going to get this man onto the moon?

“Well, we certainly have our work cut out for us, don’t we?” Sangyeop wishes he could follow up with a smart comeback to Gwangil, but his brain is still currently working the logistics of sending a man to the moon when neither of them have any experience in aerospace, aeronautics, or aero of any sort.

Wonsang smiles to lighten the mood, but it just comes off as an uncomfortable grimace. The resemblance to his father was uncanny. “So…do you just zap him or something?”

“Maybe if we were in the X-files we would, but unfortunately, we are subject to the limits of reality.”

“And our budgets.”

“And our budgets.” Sangyeop chuckles dryly as Gwangil begins setting up the equipment which had magically appeared at some point during their conversation. There isn’t much to it, the bulk of the work is done by these two oblong helmets that make them look like dystopian construction workers. He knows Gwangil rather prefers the comparison of “tasteful cave explorers”.

In all honesty, neither of them are quite sure of how the machines work, they just do as they’re told. Sangyeop is used to clocking in, reading the files for the day, and getting the job done before retiring home to make his evening soap opera reruns. On occasion, if he’s feeling adventurous, he entertains Gwangil’s offers to grab a drink. The files he reads day in and day out have become a blur to him, and he often struggles to remember he’s dealing with actual human lives. There’s a sort of numbness in his apathy, and at the end of the day, he knows it’s a job that keeps his lights on and his stomach full, but sometimes the gnawing feeling of guilt is unbearable. In the beginning, he remembers being so impassioned for every single case he was assigned. He remembers going the extra mile, but now, he flips through folders like how he sifts his morning junk mail. Sangyeop misses when he felt that fire in his life.

Soon enough, they’re ready for the first memory jump, and Sangyeop settles into a lofty armchair that Wonsang has so graciously provided them. Gwangil settles in next to him, and they both sit facing the client, who’s peaceful resting face raises more questions than answers. Who was this man? What happened to him? And most importantly, why the hell does he want to go to the moon? Sangyeop supposes all of these questions will be answered in due time.

“Ready for liftoff?”

“Just push the button Gwangil.”

A clicking noise is followed by what sounds like the whirr of a camera shutter. Sangyeop’s eyes flutter shut, his head falling back to rest against the chair, and the last thing he sees before slipping are the very, very ugly curtains.

Chapter Text

Shin Yechan, 28 years old

Sangyeop squints at their pixelated surroundings as the building blocks of Yechan’s memory fall into place. The first jump always takes you somewhere the client felt strongly connected to, a beacon if you will. He wonders who will discover his beacon when it’s time for him to go. They’re on a shore somewhere, and in the distance, he thinks he can make out the all-too-familiar curve of road they had been driving on this afternoon. Sangyeop guesses they’re not too far from the Shin estate judging by how clear the image is and guesses again that it must be a place Yechan frequented often.

Speaking of Yechan, he spies him sitting so close to the water that the waves barely tickle his feet, a solitary game of tag with no winner. What made the image so strange was their client was dressed in a very expensive looking tuxedo, fitted in all the right places, not a thread out of place. With the setting sun washing over his face, Yechan was the portrait of irrefutable beauty. Sangyeop feels something stir in his chest. It must be jealousy.

“Shin Yechan?”

Their client looks at the approaching pair and frowns. “Who are you two? This is a private beach.”

Sangyeop can hear Gwangil mutter under his breath, probably something akin to hating the rich, and he figures it would be better if he takes the reins from here.

“We’re from Mystic Corp. and we’re sorry to inform you of this, but in the real world, you’re currently…incapacitated.” He’s surprised when Yechan snorts and turns away from them to stare back at the lapping waves.

“Incapacitated is a nice way of putting it. I’m dead, aren’t I?”

“Not at the moment. But that can change at any-“ This time, Sangyeop’s elbow dig is a little too aggressive and Gwangil hunches over in pain, hissing “What the fuck was that for?”

“Please ignore my partner. You are still very much alive and we are here to make your last wish come true. Though usually, everyone we meet is in shock at this point. You seem to be taking it quite well, is it because your family was tied to the business?” Sangyeop regrets using the term business and winces at how transactional it sounded.

Yechan snorts again and Sangyeop notices how his nose scrunches when he does so. “Bingo. You could say I know the ins and outs as well, my first time seeing you lot in action was when my grandparents passed. Well, not you two specifically, you look a bit too young to be working at that time.”

Before he can get in another question, Gwangil pushes past him and points to an object lying on the sand next to Yechan. “Is that yours?”

It’s an oblong black case with a delicate violin and Sangyeop is surprised he didn’t notice it earlier, the instrument looked well-loved even from where he was standing. It strikes a sense of kinship with him and he remembers when he wished to be a musician. He also recalls abandoning the dream in favor of a stable career, his guitar collecting dust in the corner of his room which has now been taken over by client files and yesterday’s leftover Chinese takeout. Sangyeop envies Yechan sorely, but there was nothing about their client playing violin in his file. Then again, there wasn’t much of anything in the first place.

Yechan casts his eyes from the shore, to the violin, and back to the pair. The fond look toward the instrument does not go unnoticed. “Yeah.”

“Cool.” Gwangil’s reply is short, but Sangyeop knows the other is just as interested in Yechan as he is. It wasn’t every day that you saw a well-dressed man sitting on a beach with a violin.

“We also wanted to make sure your wish was correct; it’s been recorded that you wish to go to the moon?” A tiny part of Sangyeop hoped that this was still some massive misunderstanding. Maybe a simple trip to Disneyland would suffice.

Yechan purses his lips, but nods. “I think so.”

Gwangil raises an eyebrow and Sangyeop shoots a look at him, warning him from making any snide comments and his partner relents. He wishes Yechan could tell them a little more, but most often, clients are never able to explain why their desires were the way they were. Sangyeop found there was always some link forged between a wish and its owner no matter how irrational the request. Inexplicable as it may seem, he wonders how this violinist could be connected to something so otherworldly.

“So…are you guys going to explore my memories or what? Make my wish come true? Two genies in a single bottle?”

Sangyeop cracks a small smile. “Unfortunately, you don’t get three wishes, only the one.”

Yechan throws his head back in laughter, and he’s pretty, oh so pretty, and Sangyeop wishes he had a camera to capture this moment in time. The fucked-up part of his brain tells him this would make for a lovely photo at Yechan’s wake.

“You know, when I was younger, I was always worried about what others would see when they went through my life. But now, I don’t think I care much at all.”

“We’ll make sure to be gentle.” Sangyeop’s remark makes Yechan laugh yet again and the stirring in his chest returns, he hopes it’s not arrhythmia. A beeping noise from the device in Gwangil’s hand indicates they were ready to make the next jump. After spending a sufficient amount of time in each memory and learning as much as possible, the small box would be able to take them to another point until they reached Yechan’s earliest memory. It always varied, so it seemed they had accomplished whatever had to be done for this iteration of Yechan. “Thank you for welcoming us to your mind Shin Yechan. We have a lot of work to do.”

“Anytime.” The irony of his reply is not lost on the pair and they don’t know whether to smile or feel pity. Yechan’s confidence makes him seem like the center of the universe, a burning sun in the world of his memories. “Wait, before you go, can I know your names at least?”

Sangyeop knows it’s futile, since Yechan won’t remember them, won’t remember any of this in the end.

“I’m Shin Gwangil, and this miser over here is Choi Sangyeop.”

“Pleased to meet you Gwangil and Sangyeop.”

A whirring noise returns, and the box emits a low whine, their surroundings starting to pixelate again like a low-resolution movie. The shoreline crumbles into sand and the winding highway breaks apart into a million pieces, and this time, his last view is Yechan frozen in space, his lips pressed together to form the end of Sangyeop’s name.

Click

Chapter Text

Shin Yechan, 25 years old

They land somewhere that looks exactly like a recording studio. This version of Yechan is slightly younger, with black hair instead of the reddish brown Sangyeop had grown accustomed to and much less tired looking eyes. In fact, his eyes are anything but dull and if they weren’t on invisible mode, he swears he would need sunglasses to protect himself from Yechan’s glowing smile. The sweet sound pours from the speakers and Yechan is playing his violin with such gusto even Gwangil has to begrudgingly nod in admiration. It’s a modest little studio but one can easily tell there were no amateurs here. As the song ends, the producer swivels around in his chair and Sangyeop blinks in surprise. It was none other than Yechan’s childhood friend, Wonsang himself.

“Incredible as always huh? You have nothing to worry about for the upcoming concert, if anything, it’s the others who should be worried. Maybe they won’t be able to keep up with your pace.”

Yechan walks out of the recording room and swishes some water in his mouth, frowning when he hears the playback. “I don’t know, I think this section over here could use some work. It sounds strained, tinny almost.”

“If you think that’s strained, you should hear everyone else that comes through here. Give yourself some credit Yechani.”

“I told you not to call me that, we’re not kids anymore.”

“Ye-chan-i.” Wonsang’s teasing earns him a swift smack upside the head.

“Whatever, let’s just go home. I’ve had enough of seeing these walls for a lifetime.”

“You say that, and then we’ll be back in here all day again tomorrow.”

The pair continue bickering as they pack their belongings and Sangyeop and Gwangil watch them with interest. It was clear as day how close they were, no doubt about it. There was an ease to the conversation and every jab felt like some inside joke they had accidentally walked in on. If there was ever a time to use the term “best friends”, it would certainly be now.

“Damn, this just makes me feel bad for Wonsang back in the real world. Imagine losing someone you’re this close to, so early.” Gwangil’s voice is hushed and he gingerly steps around the scattered sheet music on the floor, moving out of the way for Wonsang and Yechan who continue walking while still arguing about tonight’s dinner. They both knew they were invisible, but one couldn’t help reacting to others even so. Sangyeop has lost count of the number of times Gwangil had reached out his hand for a high five with a random stranger, only to get embarrassed afterward. It was something you gradually got used to. “Don’t you think so?”

Sangyeop agrees, the two seemed to be attached to the hip and death taking Yechan would undoubtedly devastate the younger of the pair. But unlike him, Gwangil’s eyes had failed to notice something he had. Wonsang’s lingering gaze, his soft smile never leaving his face, and the faint blush of his cheeks whenever Yechan slung his arm around his neck. No one who was just friends with someone else looked like that. Sangyeop wonders how long Wonsang has been in love with Yechan. It’s likely that he still is.

“Sangyeop?”

He’s snapped out of his thoughts. “Yeah, a modern Shakespearian tragedy. Now if that beeping is any indication, I think we’re done with Romeo and Juliet here.”

“Already? That was fast.”

Even as they make the next jump, he finds it difficult to forget how happy Yechan looked playing his violin. Yechan was a little galaxy, brilliantly shining while seconds away from collapsing in on himself. And like a moth to a flame, Sangyeop knows the closer he gets to this star, the more likely it is that he’ll be blinded.

Click

~

Shin Yechan, 21 years old

This time, it’s some college party that makes Sangyeop feel extremely old, as the sight of students drunk off of cheap liquor is enough to bring back memories of his own. Yechan is standing at the center of it all, an eye of a hurricane with people flitting back and forth in his eddy. He’s clearly having the time of his life and it amazes them to watch him talk with person after person with no halt. There’s hugs, kisses on the cheek, and affectionate touches as Yechan moves around the room, and its only when he turns his head does Sangyeop notice how half of the man’s hair is dyed a bubblegum pink. On anyone else it would look ridiculous, but on Yechan, it looks as if the hairstyle was made for him. A modern-day Cruella Deville if you would.

“Handsome, rich, talented, and a social butterfly? God really has his favorites.”

“Gwangil, you’re an atheist.”

“It’s an expression jackass.” They stand in silence for a while longer before Gwangil sighs exasperatedly. “I can’t do this Sangyeop. We’re way too sober to be here.”

“Must I remind you we’re on a job? We’re not here to party for party’s sake, we’re here to-“

“Gather evidence, yada yada whatever. A single drink won’t kill me. Or him for that matter.” Gwangil deactivates invisible mode and they both effectively appear out of thin air. If not for everyone’s inebriated state, they definitely would have been reported for black magic on the spot. Unfortunately, the setting was bilateral and there was no way for one of them to be invisible and one visible. It was inconvenient at times and now Sangyeop just wanted to murder a Shin that wasn’t Yechan. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

Before Sangyeop can retort, Gwangil disappears into the crowd of people and he’s left alone. The room begins to feel suffocating, and he feels nauseous, and even worse, he’s lost sight of Yechan. He needed fresh air. Pushing past the innumerable sweaty bodies, Sangyeop wanders until he finally finds the exit and all but launches himself outside. Although it’s humid, the air has never felt sweeter as he takes a deep breath and steadies himself by lying down on the grass. Parties weren’t his thing; they were never his thing back in college. It came as a surprise to no one, but Sangyeop heavily preferred quiet kickbacks with his friends as opposed to the raging house parties Yechan seemed to be so familiar with. Gwangil had chastised him with wasting his college days, but Sangyeop imagines he wouldn’t have done anything differently if he were to go back. At least, he doesn’t think so.

Movement from an open window distracts him and Sangyeop looks up. On the balcony, a wobbly man leans with his back to the railing, beckoning someone to come out and join him. For a split second, Sangyeop is vaguely worried he’ll have to witness someone falling and breaking a leg, but another person emerges and steadies the man on his feet. They’re both laughing and standing extremely close to each other, and he watches bemused as they fumble with the drinks in their hands. Someone’s phone rings, but before the owner can answer it, the stumbling drunk pushes the phone aside and cups the other’s face in his hands. Then, the pair start kissing in between their giggles, and Sangyeop whips his head to avert his eyes.

Wait.

He turns around and looks a little closer, the unmistakable shock of half-pink and half-black hair being all he can see. A rustling distracts him and Sangyeop glances quickly at the source of the noise, not wanting to miss any other clues the balcony could give. His heart drops in his chest. Wonsang is standing underneath the balcony with a dimly lit cigarette in one hand and phone in another.

“Hey this is Yechan, I can’t answer your call right now, but leave a message after-“

The expression on his face is unreadable.

It makes Sangyeop’s breath hitch, and a million things begin running through his mind. Was this what the device had wanted them to see? Was he just at the wrong place at the wrong time, or the right one? He didn’t know, didn’t care.

Before he knows it, Sangyeop is up and he’s running, and the wet slap of his shoes on grass and his drumming heartbeat is almost enough to drown out the infernal beeping.

Click