Work Text:
It’s dark and soundless save for his ragged breathing, but Jisung knows someone is following him. Or something. He stumbles in his haste to get away, and his hands catch on soft earth. For a horrible moment, he thinks something is going to drag him back. A pause, and he gets to his feet and pushes on.
He keeps replaying what they heard outside the cave, what separated him from his friends. He called for them earlier, but keeps quiet now. He doesn’t need to encourage whoever’s watching him to finally pounce. It must be a game to them, watching Jisung go around in circles, trying to find the right path.
Then he sees it, a glimmer of light up ahead. He blinks, but it stays. For a moment, his heart lifts, along with his pace. His old converses slap against the ground louder, and with the sound, the bad feeling grows. Again, that voice. It gets closer and closer, and Jisung races towards the light.
Forgetting his resolution, he calls out for Donghyuck, Chenle, anyone. His strides get wilder, his voice less coherent, but hands grab him, pulling at his shirt. He doesn’t protest. All he cares is that they’re dragging him away from the thing that follows.
He lets them, and they run until Jisung can see again, his breath coming in heaving gasps.
He’s outside.
Stepping into his hometown feels like unearthing a time capsule. What Jaemin remembers outnumber the things he doesn’t, and they all point to the summer of ‘86. The first are the missing persons posters someone has stapled over. Jisung stares at him looking so much younger than he should be, and Jaemin tears his eyes away.
The next are the birds his editor made him back come back to Diamond Springs for. Back when he was a kid, they freaked him out. They fell dead in clusters, stuck in drains and gutters. He’s no closer to an explanation for them now, but he takes some photos anyway.
The starkest reminder is the grief that lies heavy over this relic of a town. It showed in the lines of Jisung’s mother’s face when he visited her his first day back, and the roadside memorial outside her home. It was painful listening to her reminisce, but it was the least he could do when he failed so hard as a friend.
No one else blames him for it. This place chose its scapegoat long ago, and funnily enough, he’s the one person Jaemin can stomach seeing. Donghyuck’s house hasn’t changed; he hasn’t bothered to paint over the scars of the suspicion cast over him. There’s another dead bird on the porch when Jaemin rings the doorbell, and he wishes he hadn't come.
That feeling fades when he sees Donghyuck, whose hair now curls past his neck, the lines of his body more solid now. Jaemin doesn’t know if hugging him is appropriate after everything, so he keeps his arms at his sides.
“I knew you’d come,” Donghyuck says, and his certainty is disturbing.
“I’m here for an article,” Jaemin explains, nudging the dead bird with his boot. “It’s exactly like that summer.”
“Things have a way of coming back around. Like you. The others didn’t think you’d be here.”
Today marks five years since Jisung disappeared. “I figured I’ve been running away long enough.” Jaemin retorts.
Donghyuck hums. “I’m supposed to meet them now. You wanna come?”
Jaemin frowns. They’ve made it a ritual to get together on his anniversary, but Jaemin’s only managed to live with himself for this long by avoiding it.
“You really think that’s a good idea?”
Donghyuck’s eyes spark with his old daring. “Didn’t you just say you don’t wanna run away?”
“Touché,” Jaemin surrenders. “But when things go wrong, it’s on you.”
Donghyuck twirls his car keys around a finger. His voice is overly-casual when he responds. “Wouldn't be the first time.”
Jaemin winces, but Donghyuck is already heading towards his car before he can apologize, so he follows without argument.
Wouldn’t be the first time for that either.
Jaemin is a live wire ready to spark when they pull up at the edge of the forest that surrounds Diamond Springs. His old friends are there, bathed in the muted pink of late evening. Jaemin takes a mental picture, wanting to capture how they look before they see him, and the illusion shatters.
“Ready?” Donghyuck asks, and it sounds like a challenge.
Before, he would have taken his hand. Now, he just exits the car.
Everyone looks different in a way that’s familiar. Looking at Renjun hurts, and he doesn’t know if it’s his beauty or the look in his eyes. Jeno and Mark stand bearing the weight of five long years stuck in this place. Between them is their youngest, anger painting a storm on his face, growing darker when he spots Jaemin.
Chenle strikes first.
“Finally decided to show up?” he asks, arms crossed over his chest.
The words are out before Jaemin can stop them. “Want me to leave, then?”
He knows it’s unfair; they were all close but Chenle and Jisung were two halves of a whole. Chenle has a right to be mad, but he can’t choke back the bitterness. It’s not his fault for coping the only way he knows how.
“That’s all you’re good for, so why not?” Chenle growls. Jeno lays a hand on his arm that goes ignored. Mark stares skywards, like that’s going to help.
“Listen,” Jaemin says, “I’m not the only one who tried to get away, so stop acting as if I threw him into that cave. You can either let me be a part of this, or let me grieve in my own way, but don’t hold both against me.”
Chenle’s jaw works, but he doesn’t respond. He turns his back on Jaemin, staring into the mouth of the cave that yawns ahead. It’s been cordoned off with rope, but the blackness seems to hide something. Jaemin shakes his head. This place always gets to him.
Beside him, Donghyuck whispers, “Good speech.”
Jaemin rolls his eyes. He takes his place beside him on a flat rock. There’s a cooler in someone’s car, and Renjun passes him a can of beer that feels like a peace offering. Jaemin takes it with murmured thanks, and he wants to say more, but the words get lost in the years between them.
He’s with his closest friends in the world, and he has nothing left to say to them.
Everything here is as they left it; the old couch with moss growing over the cushions, and remnants of beer cans peeking through the grass. If he shuts his eyes, he sees Jisung tagging along while they acted like they were too good for the world. He clutches his beer so hard it fizzes over.
“I shouldn’t have come,” he murmurs.
Jeno, who sits across, watches him worriedly. “You okay?”
“I thought I was past it, but coming back here, it feels like it was our fault for not taking better care of him.”
“I know what you mean,” Renjun adds softly.
Mark sighs. “The police combed through this place and the mines a bunch of times. What else could we have done?”
“Searched harder,” Chenle snaps. “There must be something that we all missed. A person doesn’t just disappear into thin air—,”
“As we keep saying,” Donghyuck adds ruefully.
“—and we should have done more.”
Jaemin shakes his head.
“I shouldn’t have come,” he says again, and Donghyuck must see his rising anxiety because he scoots closer. Before he says something more distressing, Donghyuck takes his hand, locking their thumbs in a way that makes him feel eighteen again.
“Come on,” he says, voice low. “I’ll take you on a drive.”
“I thought I wasn't running away,” Jaemin murmurs, focusing on Donghyuck’s face so he can stop thinking about the absence of another.
Donghyuck grins. “Don’t worry, we’ll come back in time,” he responds for the benefit of the others. Jaemin lets himself be led to his car once more, but this time he’s significantly more grateful.
“So,” Donghyuck asks, starting up the engine. “Where to?”
It’s easier to breathe when they back out of the forest trail, driving away from the old cave system. Donghyuck behind the wheel is an achingly intimate sight, so Jaemin stares at the trees they pass. They used to bike along this path, and Jaemin feels the ghosts of their past following the car.
“Why here?” Donghyuck asks when they reach Patterson Lake, the water just as still and deep green as Jaemin remembers. It’s been a while so it isn’t surprising that he doesn’t remember, but he feels hurt nonetheless.
“Water calms me down,” he lies. The last person he should be around is Donghyuck, considering where they left things off before Jaemin skipped town, but he can’t control his vices. He indulges in another, and lights a cigarette.
“You shouldn’t let them get to you,” Donghyuck says after he’s had a few drags, perched on the hood of his car. It groans under their weight when Jaemin joins him.
“How do you do it?” Jaemin asks, to draw attention away from himself. “Deal with what people say about you?”
Donghyuck shrugs. Jaemin has struggled to block his memories of that night, what they heard, and how Donghyuck was the last person to see Jisung before he lost him in the cave. There was nothing to suggest foul play, but the police and the townspeople held their suspicions close. Jaemin never believed them, but he wishes he had half the resilience that Donghyuck does.
“I just play up to their expectations,” Donghyuck responds after some thought. “It’s useless to try and defy them.”
Jaemin takes him in, the dyed hair, painted fingernails and tattoos that curl under his shirt. Donghyuck took what happened that night and made it his armour, payback for a town that refused to let him forget it.
“Besides,” he continues, his smile lacking humour, “their blame has nothing on my own.”
“It’s not your fault,” Jaemin says hastily. “We should have stayed away from that place, but who could have known? It was just…”
“Bad judgment?” Donghyuck prompts.
Jaemin sighs. “Yeah. A stupid decision, but that’s hardly a crime, right?”
“Hardly.”
Donghyuck smiles, and Jaemin is suddenly aware of how his teeth glint in the darkness of dusk. Coming back here must age him backwards because all he can think of is that he remembers how it was to kiss him, and it makes him feel both shitty and euphoric. Mostly the latter. Of course, Donghyuck being Donghyuck, he wets his lips, and Jaemin is gone.
“Can I…?” he trails off, blaming this place and the memories that cling to it.
“Didn’t think you’d ask,” Donghyuck breathes, and Jaemin needs no further invitation.
Their lips meet, and it’s a confusing merging of old and new. When they kissed here all those years ago, Jaemin was raw and pulling apart at the seams. Donghyuck was the only thing holding him together, his one certainty in the world. Now, he’s less sure, but kissing him isn’t an escape anymore, and that makes him caress Donghyuck’s cheek, fingers tugging through his hair, going to rest at the back of his head.
Donghyuck tastes like the cherry candy they used to buy as kids. It was Jisung’s favourite. The thought doesn’t consume him with sadness like it should have, but guilt sours the taste when Donghyuck brushes his thumb against his bare waist.
“Maybe we should get back,” Jaemin says into their kiss. Donghyuck just hums, moving past his lips to his neck, leaving soft, breathy kisses that make him want to stay so bad, but he can’t bear the thought of fucking things up again.
“Hyuck,” he calls, both hands on his face to pull him to eye-level. His dazed expression warms the pit of his stomach. “It’s almost time.”
“Five minutes,” Donghyuck murmurs. “Five more minutes, and then we go.”
Jaemin is powerless to resist.
Donghyuck is restless on the ride back. Jaemin chalks it up to the kiss, but it’s difficult to watch him fidget, constantly checking the rearview or drumming on something. He hasn’t felt this insecure in a while, and it throws him off balance.
He asks him if he’s good, and Donghyuck hides his surprise behind a smile.
“‘Course. It’s just...today, you know?”
“You’re not upset about what happened?” Jaemin ventures cautiously.
Donghyuck laughs, but it’s not unkind. “That’s the last thing I am, Jaem. Don’t worry.”
Jaemin raises an eyebrow at the nickname, but doesn’t question it. The drive back is quiet, and when they reach the forest, it’s as if others can see through to the truth of what happened between them. Jaemin tries not to acknowledge the stares. There’s little conversation as they settle, and the clock nears the time they last saw Jisung.
He expected their informal memorial to feel uncomfortable because he’s never been a part of it before, but it’s more casual than he thought. They take turns “talking” to Jisung. Most of it is random things about how they’ve been doing, and he can tell it takes a conscious effort not to delve into darker topics.
When it’s Donghyuck’s turn, he simply says, “Hope we see you soon.”
It’s Jaemin next, and he tries to gather his thoughts into something that isn’t pathetic. Before he can begin, he thinks he hears someone speak. At first he’s sure it’s Chenle, but he looks as shaken as Jaemin feels.
“Was I the only one who heard that?” he asks quietly.
Renjun shakes his head. “It sounded like—,”
There it is again. This time, Jaemin shivers. He’ll never forget that sound, the cry for help they heard five years ago. It’s faint, but definitely not the wind.
“This is not happening,” Jeno says, shaking his head. “We searched everywhere. There was no one in there.”
“Well, there’s someone in there now,” Jaemin retorts, feeling strangely calm.
“You know what happened the last time we tried this.” That’s Mark.
Jaemin does. They went inside, and one of them didn’t make it out. Donghyuck vocalizes his thoughts before he can.
“I think that’s why we need to try again. For Jisung, at least.”
“I’m coming too,” Chenle says, and Jaemin doesn’t know why the hell he has a bat in his car, but he’s glad for it.
Renjun’s expression is stricken. “I can’t do this again. I just...can’t.”
Jaemin doesn’t blame him; he’s in no place to judge. Jeno joins Renjun, rubbing down his arm to make him feel better.
“I’ll stay with you.”
“We’ll go get help,” Mark adds, already getting into his car. The fear only begins to settle in when they’re off in the distance.
“Ready?” Donghyuck asks, an echo of earlier.
Jaemin nods. They go inside.
They aren’t far in when they reach a fork in the path.
Wordlessly, Jaemin passes Chenle one of the flashlights they found in Donghyuck’s car. There’s no trying to stop him, so he hands him some notepaper to leave himself a trail. Chenle locks eyes with him in a moment of understanding, and then he’s away, footsteps echoing.
Donghyuck keeps muttering under his breath, and Jaemin realises he’s counting their steps. He stills suddenly, and Jaemin almost runs into him. He hears a scuffle that turns into discordant thuds that raise the hair on his neck.
He grabs Donghyuck to pull him away, but he drags them toward the sound. Jaemin swallows back his protests and runs, because he can recognize the voice now, and his heart threatens to give.
“Donghyuck-hyung, Chenle, help!”
It can’t be, but it is. The realisation makes him run faster, torchlight making crazy patterns on the walls. When he sees who is moving towards them, Jaemin almost cries out. Donghyuck reaches him first, and words fail Jaemin, so he just grabs his other arm, and pulls.
There are tears in his eyes when they emerge outside, a pile of limbs on damp earth. Jaemin shines his torch, and a sob escapes him at Jisung’s wide eyes and parted lips. He doesn’t look a day over sixteen. Jisung’s eyes move from him to Donghyuck.
“You came back for me,” he says, his voice thick with something.
Donghyuck’s smile is a little wobbly. “Always,” he says.
Jaemin’s head spins. “How—,” he asks, unable to finish his question.
“I’ll explain, I swear,” Donghyuck promises.
Jaemin sinks to the ground, exhausted.
“You better.”
The first thing they do is get in Donghyuck’s car, and drive off. Jaemin can’t think of how to begin explaining this to the others when he can barely wrap his own head around it.
“We lose you, Jisung,” Donghyuck states. “Always, in every universe.”
Universe. Jaemin balks. If Donghyuck is to be believed, he’s not from here. The cave is a bridge that opens every five years, and Donghyuck has been waiting for his chance to find Jisung again.
“I don’t understand,” Jisung says, fear making a home in his face. “Why me?”
“We don’t know.”
There’s that we again. Jaemin wishes Donghyuck would stop the car. That everything would just stop, because if he’s telling the truth, it gives way to a question that won’t stop plaguing him.
He glances at Donghyuck out of the corner of his eye. It makes sense, the gaps in his memory that Jaemin attributed to five years of minimal contact. Stupidly, he goes back to the kiss by the lake, and his head hurts worse. He speaks carefully, and reality sinks in with each word.
“You came here five years ago to get Jisung back?”
Donghyuck’s hands are white on the wheel. “Yes.”
“And then you chose to stay here?”
“I did.”
Jaemin glances in the rearview, into Jisung’s eyes, which flicker with the same emotion that broils in his gut.
“Then what happened to the Donghyuck I knew?”
fin