Work Text:
Present
It seems only fitting that the first time Jihoon sees him in this life, it is to witness his death.
Despite the commotion, there are hardly any people around them so Jihon manages to get to him first.
“Jihoon?” Two syllables out of Mingyu’s mouth and the world tilted. The hot feeling that pours over Jihoon’s chest almost makes the late summer rain chilly in comparison.
Mingyu is lying on the side of the street, limbs all spread out with Jihoon left frozen looming over him with an umbrella. Mingyu is still trying to cover his eyes from the rain but the face that looks at him with probably equal confusion is unmarked by time. So it isn’t much of a surprise that even though he was sent flying into the air by a now-gone motorcycle a mere minute ago, he is flexing his hand and shaking out the pain from his shoulder.
“I’m sorry, I thought that-” Mingyu begins, disappointment passes across his face before he hides behind a distant, polite expression.
“Mingyu,” Jihoon interrupts quietly, only now realizing he has yet to say a word. “Are you okay?” He holds out his hand to help him up, dragging him under the umbrella.
Mingyu’s eyes widened upon hearing his own name. He can’t look away from Jihoon for a second. There is a soft smile curving the corner of his mouth, his eyes are full of light that layers over the sadness. He looks better, healthier than when Jihoon saw him being pulled by the arms of death centuries ago.
“Yeah,” he says, rainwater still dripping down his face. “As good as new.”
Jihoon does not understand this air of almost cheerfulness Mingyu is wearing as he’s convinced he has completely lost it. Perhaps he’s hallucinating or seeing ghosts. For the nth time, once again, he doubts this is in fact reality, that he survived the night in his dark rented room.
It feels like his lungs shrank. He struggles to get enough air in while doing his best to keep his composure. But he must be visibly panicking now because Mingyu turns to him with a frown. “Jihoon?”
He wants to be anywhere else than on this street.
1858 spring
They’ve been walking in the dark for about 30 minutes before reaching the lake.
“I still think this is a very bad idea,” Jihoon complains for about the third time since they left his house. He tries to glance at Mingyu’s figure in front of him when he gets no response, despite needing to keep his eyes on the ground if he wants to make it back without having to explain any cuts or bruises to his mother.
“That is exactly why we’re doing it,” Mingyu says with a smile spreading across his face once they get out of the cover of the trees and reach the small shore.
“So you dragged me out just to spite me?” Jihoon says putting no weight into his tone.
“To make you have fun and not sit in the library all night.” Without a pause, Mingyu starts to take off his hanbok, quickly stripping down to the last layer.
“The water must be freezing,” Jihoon tries once more, speaking out into the lake to avoid looking at Mingyu, as he reluctantly disposes of his own clothes. But it’s like Mingyu doesn’t even hear him. He runs down the small dock grinning from ear to ear and jumps, splashing the black water all around him.
Jihoon struggles to hold back the bubbling laughter at the sight. His body sinks into the water and the shock is painful but Mingyu’s bright eyes and kisses are enough of a distraction.
1858 summer
The soft wind of the night does very little to ease the heaviness of the summer air. The damp cloth is starting to stick to his back as he is running uphill along the river. It’s not that far now, he can see the forest spreading out in front of him.
Jihoon doesn’t stop until he’s a bit further in, until the trees get a little denser. He looks around him, unsure of how to proceed but there is no time to waste. He begins to pray. He does not know to whom he’s speaking, to the gods almost forgotten in this world, to the spirits of the forest and all the others. He begs everyone and anyone to answer.
He would not be here if there was any other option. He is going against every warning about this forest beaten into his head as a kid. They may not even have a full day left.
“Answer me…” he pleads, bowing his head.
The silent air mocks him.
Please…
He opens his eyes not recalling closing them and he almost misses it. The mass of black air hovering just above the ground. Blink and there’s nothing but mossy tree trunks. Blink again and the black is growing.
Jihoon watches it, not daring to move a muscle. “Hello? Who are you?” he demands.
“Depends on what you believe in,” a deep voice echoes.
The shadow before him bleeds into the moonless night. He cannot make out any shape of it except for the center where the darkness is almost inhaling the word around them.
“Why are you hiding?” His voice bearing empty weight.
The answer comes with the shadows withdrawing into one place where the darkness is closest to him. In a heartbeat, the soft, blurry lines form a human figure. There, to his right, stands an exact mirror of himself.
“Would this be better?” Jihoon’s voice pours from the sight before him.
The words barely make it over the thumping heartbeat in his ears. He breathes in after what feels like minutes and it kicks back in all of the urgency dancing under his skin though he’s still unable to scrape any words from his throat.
“Now. Tell why I am here, Jihoon,” the shadow continues on, paying him no mind as he looks up into the crowns of the trees.
“I do not come asking for a gift, but for your help. My friend, he’s sick and he’s dying,“ he says rushing through the words. ”It is too soon for him, he needs more time.”
The shadow stops, Jihoon’s face stares back at him giving nothing away.
“Please. I will give you anything,” he tries again. It makes him feel so small.
“No infinite wealth, eternal love, or talent. You want to save someone else’s life. How sweet.” The shadow tips his head looking entertained.
“He deserves to live a long healthy life.”
“With you, I suppose,” he says, eyebrows raised.
“Okay, kill someone else then. You know, life for life kind of thing,” he explains way too casually.
“No,” Jihoon says instantly. His mouth goes dry upon the image of it. He knew there would be a price to pay, was prepared to pay with everything he had. But he did not expect to be asked something so cruel.
He refuses to give with something that is not his and time will change that. ”I cannot do that.”
Jihoon knows that was not the right thing to say when the shadow’s features harden, anger overlapping any previous emotion he was playing with a second ago.
“Well, it seems like your ‘anything’ is not worth much to me.” He takes a step closer. His own eyes piercing through him. “ Because the deals I make are paid with souls. ”
It does not come as a shock as much as it perhaps should. Because he knows. There is a heaviness to his heart, clock ticking in his ears and he knows. Rather him than someone else.
For decades to come, he will remember the weight of this moment.
“I am afraid you are too late if you came here to haggle,” the shadow goes on, voice stripped of the previous gravity. ”Return home and do not grieve for too long. I do not plan to come for you for a long time.”
“Give me time.” Here, he started painting his destiny with blood not knowing just yet the size of his work. ”Give us time. Please. Then you can have my soul.”
It takes him three steps to reach the spot Jihoon has been rooted to this entire time. His pause makes Jihoon worry it’s a lost cause.
“I will give you a year. Spent in perfect health, of course.”
…. a year?
“Mingyu is one step away from death. I will give you both health and time.” The shadow wears his face but there is nothing human about it at this moment. “This is my last offer.”
“Okay, yes.”
The shadow suddenly envelops him. It is everywhere. It is in his lungs, grazing against his skin, sharply crawling down his back. Constantly in motion, never moving.
Against his lips, it whispers something unintelligible. The world around him disappears.
Present
It is Mingyu who finally breaks.
He wasn’t ready to talk about it in the beginning. But it’s been brewing at the back of his mind. One day it just snaps inside of him. So, there on the shore, in the tranquillity of early Sunday with the sun burning on his neck, he asks Jihoon why death avoids him.
Jihoon studies the shapes of sunlight on their bed before he reaches inside of himself for the thread. He finds it freeing to say this part of the story, the words that were kept hidden under his tongue for so long it hurts. Jihoon tells him about that night, about what the terms of the deal ended up being and not that he begged for Mingyu’s life. It seems very irrelevant now.
What he leaves out is how he woke up the next morning and Mingyu vanished from his life, from the earth. How Mingyu’s mother spoke of her only child, her daughter, and was confused by all his questions. How Jihoon searched for Mingyu for months until he was convinced he went crazy.
Jihoon is not sure if he wants that part just yet.
He talks about the restlessness of the year that followed. About the dark room where he waited for his death, that was never collected and then he started running, learning how to breathe from the start.
Mingyu wishes there was something he could do to ease the pain in his eyes. He reaches for him to draw lines on the inside of his palm. He folds the corners of his bespoken soul and in return offers it on his tongue as he kisses Jihoon.
Mingyu tells him about how that very night just before daybreak. A stranger appeared in his doorway. Mingyu had been bedridden, feverish, letting the days fall out of order. But for that moment his foggy mind cleared and coughing eased. The stranger offered to give him anything he would ask for. Nothing was out of range. Mingyu, convinced he is already dead, agreed. Pain cheapening the price of his soul.
“How did we get stuck here?” Mingyu whispers into his neck, holding on to him
Jihoon doesn’t have an answer.
There is a slice of comfort in knowing they both got abandoned by death but it only feels like they are paying a different price with their misery.
1968
Jihoon doesn’t know how long he’s been alone in the cold kitchen before the pink and orange clouds of dawn reach his window. He’s sitting perfectly still, counting every breath against the timer in his head that resets every year on this day.
For decades, every year he tortured himself with the thought that this would be the day death finally remembers him. And every single time he watched midnight step into another day. The world moving on, disregarding his fears.
He feels something close to pathetic going through the same motions of this, year after year, but when he tries closing his eyes, his body takes him through the panic and pain again.
“Good morning,” Seokmin’s voice carries from the bedroom door.
“Morning,” Jihoon says in his direction trying to shake off the feeling of getting caught.
Seokmin walks past him to the counter, running his hands through his bedhead. He looks barely awake with his eyes half-shut, a small pillow crease on the left cheek.
“Why are you up so early?” Seokmin asks with slight surprise.
“I couldn’t sleep,” he admits. “Breakfast?”
Seokmin moves the dirty dishes from dinner into the sink. The same sink Jihoon washed his hands from blood just two days ago.
He thought it’d be an easy fight. The person threatening him with empty words seemed very on edge, his distracted eyes flying from Jihoon to the end of the alley. When Jihoon wasn’t expecting it, the idiot put a knife through him. Then ran.
The pain eased in minutes but the blood, the blood was all over him.
Seokmin is standing against the counter. It would take Jihoon no more than 5 steps to walk around the table to him but he can feel the distance of time between them. It’s been so long, so long since he last died. Distractions had him convinced he had a somewhat normal life. Now the band-aid has been ripped off.
“I can’t, I’m going to be late,” Seokmin continues, looking at the dirty glasses and deeming the cup in his hands clean enough to pour water into it.
“Are you feeling okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired,” Jihoon says, turning to the window. Not even the bee trying to get through the glass would be convinced by that.
Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Seokmin staring him down over the cup but neither of them says anything else.
He continues to sit in silence watching Seokmin move through the apartment with small uncertainty. Although this isn’t the first time he stayed overnight under the excuse of convenience, he still looks a little awkward searching for last night’s clothes.
It is futile to think of the life they could share together. That doesn’t mean it hurts any less. He daydreams of one more chance, sharing a comfortable silence with Seokmin in a time less haunted.
Jihoon knows he is being selfish for choosing to be lonely with someone. Seokmin wears his heart on his sleeve and he wants to warn him. That he can give him love in months but not years.
“Meet me at the station after work?” Seokmin asks, already getting his shoes.
“I’ll be there,” Jihoon offers him a reassuring smile before the door shuts.
And he’ll go to the station. And they will probably end up having dinner with Seokmin’s sister. Because he will not die tonight. Because he cheated death - or death cheated him, he doesn’t know, but it will not go on forever.
Present
There were nights when he dreaded the idea of another year, another decade. There were mornings when the dreams of dying made him run again. He’s grown tired of crawling through time, crawling through friends and lovers.
But now he wakes up to someone in his bed and doesn’t feel like a fraud. He can share space with Mingyu and not play someone else’s part.
“Were you just watching me sleep?” Mingyu whispers drowsily, barely one eye open.
“Yes.” Jihoon reaches to push a strand of hair out of the way.
“Don’t do that. It’s creepy,” he says with lightness in his voice and scrunched nose in pretend distaste.
“I can’t sleep with you next to me.” The honesty of his own words surprises him.
“Do I look that pretty while dead asleep?” Mingyu grins.
“Yes,” he confirms getting exactly the reaction he was going for. Mingyu’s smile blooms as he buries his face into the pillow. ”But being half asleep is even a better look on you.”
All of the people and years are clear in his eyes. Some more detailed than others but the years from his first life started to slip away so long ago. The voice of his father, the face of his mother faded. More a feeling than they are a memory.
No matter how much he wishes, Mingyu is not an exception. Though he doesn’t remember the kindness of his eyes, he knows the touch of his hands. His restless heart is finally at peace when he lies next to him like this but here he is re-learning the sharp edges of his features.
He wants to kiss him. It would be so easy. Both to lean in, let time collapse between their lips, and to keep pretending. But he must know, not because he needs the answer but because not knowing has been eating him alive.
“Why did you leave? After that night,” he explains softly. ”You disappeared.” He doesn’t mean for it to sound that way. Jihoon can feel him drawing away from him, even when Mingyu doesn’t move a muscle, halting any explanation.
“I didn’t.” His eyes one brick wall. ”I woke up on a boat heading out of Busan. It took me months to return home. When I arrived no one remembered me. No one. I was a stranger to people who I knew my whole life. It was like I never existed.”
He is an idiot. A fucking idiot.
Jihoon tries to hide how the words repeat in his head, haunting him until he cannot take it anymore and leaves.
1858 spring
Jihoon can hear footsteps approaching behind him but he chooses to ignore it and continues reading. Mingyu sits down next to him on the grass wordlessly. It is impressive how long it actually takes him to get annoyed by the lack of attention.
His focus gets broken at Mingyu kissing him on the cheek lightly.
“Why so late?” Jihoon sighs faking defeat.
Mingyu hesitates for a second between a lie to avoid the topic and the need to simply complain and having someone to listen. His father’s relentless pestering about marriage is driving him up the walls.
“I took a nap.” A lie it is then. “Also, mother told me to invite you to dinner,” he says as an afterthought. ”I think she likes you.”
“Of course she does,” Jihoon replies in a serious tone. ” I am a fucking delight to be around.” He can’t even finish it before he breaks into a smile.
Mingyu laughs and gives him one more kiss before scrambling to his feet.
“Come on. Let’s go.” Hands reaching down to Jihoon, pulling him up.
2015
Mingyu doesn’t know what possessed him to agree to this. High on his priority list was an early night, maybe even takeout dinner. That changed with Soonyoung practically dragging him away from his front door when he spotted him in the hallway. Mingyu whining about being too tired to drink did not stop him from bargaining until he turned to the staircase.
He’s sitting across from Soonyoung looking at his earnest eyes, trying his best to listen. He looks beautiful like this, talking loudly about his trip, about the concert he went to, about the cat he pet on his way to a bookstore. He fills up the space somehow knowing Mingyu would much rather just listen than speak.
Soonyoung’s been in love with him basically since they met but Mingyu is terrified of what it would do to him. He doesn’t want to leave. Unsure of who he is afraid to hurt more. Soonyoung deserves someone better.
It feels selfish to admit that he is strangely content with this life. For now, he likes it here. The mess of a home, just upstairs, kept alive by his footsteps only.
It is always hard to piece himself together after he leaves behind dreams in places he thought would last longer. And every time his brain convinces him he is meant to be lonesome. It helped that Soonyoung found him, shared his life with him, more than he will ever know. For that, Mingyu will love him even after he’s gone. He can only hope Soonyoung will leave some space for the memory of his love.
Present
He runs when the world around him is reduced to scattered remnants of death. Memories dipped in red and darkness boil over and so he tells himself there’s a whole world to see. He runs until he’s a memory with nothing to show for it.
So this time too, he does what he knows and doesn’t stop until Mingyu finds him seven time zones away from home.
The lights are on when he enters the house. It doesn’t take him long to find Mingyu taking over the entire surface area of his kitchen with groceries.
All that Jihoon can manage is enveloping him in a tight fucking hug, pulling him as close as possible by the waist, forehead pressed against his chest.
He hopes Mingyu can forgive him for this two-week temper tantrum of self-hatred. He’s been so patient with him.
“I never should have left. If I stayed you would have found me,” he confesses.
“I don’t blame you.”
Jihoon wants him to. Maybe he can see that on him.
Mingyu pulls back and takes his face into his hands. The tenderness of the touch feels almost cruel. “Jihoon, you don’t have to torture yourself like this. I…”
“Wait, no- there’s more. Back then,” Jihoon grabs his hands, almost as if without full focus he will not get the words out.“I knew we would break apart eventually. And I feared the future because you wouldn’t be by my side.”
I hoped one day you would look back at me as someone who had loved you more than they could bear.
I hoped you would remember me as someone who would have loved you so much more if only the timing had been right.
”I would have done anything to make the time stop. When we got the news about you falling sick, I realized not seeing you at all wou- I never knew such fear. And then it became true. You were gone. I don’t – I don’t know how many years I spent forgetting you but I’m afraid to think how many years I will spend trying to remember.”
“I fucked this up and I’m sure it will happen again. I don’t know how to not ruin things.”
“I don’t understand how you are not seeing this but I also thought I lost you. Whatever happened is nothing compared to living with such grief. If anyone should take the blame it is me.“ The words are pouring out of him. ”I didn’t even try to look for you. I mean, I looked for you in the village but once I could see what was happening I gave up . The fear of having you looking at me all glassy-eyed, not actually seeing me , just like everyone else. It stopped me from even trying and,” he sighs,” and you can hate me for it, I will deal with that. But I am not leaving again.”
“I’m not gonna let you leave.”
Suddenly the ticking of the clock feels fast. Jihoon knows there will never be enough time now. Be it days or centuries before his debt is collected, he knows he’d ask for a minute more.
Jihoon tugs on his hair gently to pull him down and Mingyu goes easily. He catches his lips in a kiss. For a moment they are just that. Soft lips, hands holding on tight, fingers threading through hair.
“How did we both manage to fuck up this bad?”
Mingyu can only give him a weak laugh in response.
Relief breaks inside Jihoon’s chest. They are both too used to losing things.