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It’s Friday.
Soobin wakes up to the sound of silence.
…which promptly turns into noises of white-hot, unbridled panic once he realizes that he slept through his alarm.
With his breath hitching and his mind still hazy from a dream that’s already escaping the edges of his memory, he finds himself coming to a nightmare.
“Fuck,” he sits up and brings a palm to his forehead, red blotch joining the furrow of his brows. “Shit, shit, shitshitshitshit.” Another round of curses escapes his lips, feet kicking off sheets that he was so comfortably wrapped in just a few seconds ago.
“No way. No fucking way.” He fumbles out of his white shirt and plaid boxers, all but slaps tap water on his face, drowns Odi’s food bowl with pellets, wrinkles his outfit from haste, dabs too much cologne on his polo, his top getting drenched when the spray bottle betrays him. With another for fuck’s sake and a roll of his eyes, he replaces it with an identical one, just as white, if not more blindingly so.
Heading down the hallway, Soobin chances a peek into the room next to his, and sees his cousin Beomgyu lying face-down on his bed, arm hanging from the edge.
Soobin scowls. The guy’s been nothing but a nuisance to their household since he moved in from Daegu last month. He had taken a leave of absence on his last year of high school, only to spend his free time getting wasted alone in his room every night, much to Soobin's detriment. Though he does try to cut Beomgyu some slack, considering his folks did just divorce; he’d try and commiserate too, if only Beomgyu weren’t as prickly as a cactus whenever he tried to approach him.
And Soobin would absolutely love to give the boy a piece of his mind regarding the little impromptu concert that had kept Soobin up last night, but right now he’s running late and needs to leave as soon as possible.
So he takes a moment to check how he looks in the mirror, another to grab his anorak from his bedroom door, and one more to dash out of his apartment to make it into the elevator just before the panels slide closed. Lucky.
…or not, because as he scrolls through the barrage of calls and messages—a good morning, sunshine text from Yeonjun momentarily lifting his mood—on his phone, the cabin stops, everything goes dark, and Soobin swears he feels his heart freeze inside his chest.
“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” he weakly protests, pushing emergency buttons as if it were of any use.
His phone rings, and he sucks back terror to answer the call from Taehyun.
“Hyung, where the hell are you? You’re opening the program, y’know. Have you forgotten about that?”
Of course Soobin hasn’t forgotten. He’s been thinking, preparing, agonizing, over this damn speech for nights on end.
And if it weren’t for Beomgyu’s drunken wannabe-rockstar escapades the night before, Taehyun wouldn’t even be asking Soobin that. Wouldn’t be considering it, because Soobin is never late.
Soobin heaves a long, loaded sigh. The day hasn’t even properly started, but Soobin is already done, finished, the words game over floating above his head. “Sorry, Tyun. My alarm didn’t go off, and the elevator broke down.” Excuses, excuses. So much for the principles of accountability and punctuality that the student council does its best to uphold, their leader being a glaring antithesis right now. “Look, can you just… stall for me until I get there?”
“I’ll try.”
Soobin knows that his vice president is reliable, that he’s true to his word, that he will try, so his heart thaws and starts pumping blood again, frantic but beating.
It takes ten minutes for the elevator to start working again, but it felt like an eternity for Soobin, palms clammy and hair sticking to his forehead when he finally reaches the ground floor. He takes a step out of the building, chilly February air smacking his face, and looks up to find snow falling—probably the heaviest it’s been all winter.
He wraps his anorak tighter around him, and takes a careful step on the icy concrete sidewalk. On his third, he loses his balance and slips, but immediately gets back up.
Another little setback, nothing much, he repeats in his head like a mantra, dusting snow off his pants.
Unfortunately his (bad) luck continues throughout the day, each misstep an embarrassing prick to his chest—from the bus he gets on offering him no free seat, to the unusual heavy snowfall causing traffic that delays him even further, Taehyun having to do his speech after he takes far too long, him blanking out when he tries to do the closing remarks instead, iced coffee spilling on his shirt on his way back to their table, and him getting pooped on by a bird as the proverbial cherry on top while dragging his sorry ass home.
To make matters worse, he lashed out at Yeonjun when the guy was only trying to help him change out of his coffee-stained clothes. The expression that his best friend made when Soobin slapped his hand away all but sent Soobin’s heart straight into the ground, buried under rubble and ruin from his own doing.
It’s as if the teenage mortification he’s done his best to avoid (for the most part) throughout his entire high school career has caught up to him, hitting him tenfold at the last minute. Here he is, experiencing growing pains like any other senior that's on the road to university.
Way to go, Mr. President, Soobin sardonically tells himself when he inputs the password to their apartment and enters the front door.
“I’m home,” he announces, and a visibly hungover Beomgyu greets him with a meek wave from where he’s seated on the kitchen island, a bowl of steaming sundaeguk in front of him.
“You look like shit,” Soobin comments.
“That looks like shit,” Beomgyu counters, pointing at the visible stains on Soobin’s dress shirt.
Soobin makes a face that spells touché. Even though he feels like taking out all of his frustration on Beomgyu today, he stops himself; he’s much too beaten down for it, anyway.
As soon as he’s in his room, he slides down to the floor, exhaustion and regret sucking the life out of his legs.
His phone pings, and his mood worsens when he sees the message.
How did your big presidential address go, sweetie? I bet it went perfect, as always. See you at the ceremony next week! - Mom & Dad
Soobin groans and locks his phone without replying.
Looking up from where he is, his gaze meets Odi’s cage, and he whines with intention. “Odi,” he draws out the last syllable of the hedgehog’s name. “Hyung had a horrible day today. Would you mind lending me an ear?”
Odi hisses from the play pouch he’s nestled himself in.
Soobin pouts, hoisting himself up to take careful strides toward his pet. “Please?"
This time, Odi stays quiet and crawls out of his pouch, snout adorably twitching as he faces Soobin. Soobin beams, taking Odi into his cupped hands to pet him affectionately. He gently rubs his quills, and Odi starts curling in on himself to lie on his back on Soobin's palm.
“I just wish I could reset this disaster of a day, do everything right, like always. Guess that’s impossible, though, huh?” Soobin wrinkles his nose, carrying Odi up to look straight into his little, beady eyes. He brings Odi down, cradles him close to his chest, allowing him to feel the warmth of his body, and he kneels down to place him in his playpen after. He crosses his legs on the floor, observing Odi scurry around as he recalls the events of the day with painful clarity.
...
Once Soobin finishes boring Odi to sleep (which is impressive, considering Odi's nocturnal), he decides to head to bed himself. After taking a shower—the long-sleeved white polo with its large, brown (mixed with white) stain, disposed of in the hamper—he crawls under the covers, safe and secure. Thankfully his cousin seems to be too hungover to make any noise tonight, allowing Soobin to fall asleep as soon as he hits the mattress, cocooning himself in his blankets, eyes and ears meeting darkness and silence.
There’s always tomorrow. Come tomorrow and he’ll feel better.
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It’s Saturday… or is it?
Soobin wakes up to the sound of silence.
…which promptly turns into noises of white-hot, unbridled panic once he hears his window slam open, strong winds and the copious amounts of icy white invading his bedroom. The commotion jolts Soobin out of what could possibly be the deepest he’s slept in years.
Snowstorm, Soobin quickly realizes. It’s a snowstorm!
Looking around, adrenaline already coursing through his veins, Soobin sees his room slowly being filled with snow, his books flying out of their shelves and his lamp crashing down from the sheer force of the storm. He immediately runs to Odi’s cage, his pet the first worry of his mind, but he’s dumbfounded to find Odi remaining on his wheel as if everything’s fine, tiny hedgehog feet rushing as he runs, as he spins and spins and spins.
Soobin wonders if he’s still dreaming when he looks closer, eyes wide at how Odi is moving at an incredible speed, his small and spiky figure almost melting into a ball of light, blurred and indiscernible. Soobin is surprised that the wheel’s bearing hasn’t given out yet with how fast Odi is going.
Shaking his head, he quickly concludes that it’s a trick of the eye, or of his half-asleep, hormone-muddled brain. That’s the only probable explanation for why his sweet, little Odi suddenly turned into Sonic the Hedgehog right before his eyes. He hurriedly grabs the plastic housing, towing it to somewhere safer. As soon as he does, however, Odi’s wheel stops spinning, and the wind stills.
A tingle runs across Soobin’s spine, and his vision fades to black.
…
Once Soobin regains consciousness, his first thought is to assess the damage of the snowstorm. He pulls himself up from the floor, but trailing his room he finds not a single item out of place—window closed, floor free of any remnants of snow, books, lamp, and everything else neat and tidy. Even Odi’s cage is back to where it was before Soobin moved it.
“What in the actual fuck,” he mutters under his breath, unable to comprehend what just happened.
Feeling like he’s just experienced what is, hands down, the most realistic dream of his life, he runs out of his room and toward Beomgyu’s door, knocking—almost pounding—on it. He’s not sure if this'll be much use, but he just needs some sort of confirmation that he’s not losing his mind.
His cousin answers, shoulder-length hair disheveled and the edges of his eyes red and glistening. Soobin recognizes that Beomgyu’s been crying.
“Oh,” Soobin blurts out, suddenly feeling much more tethered to reality now, sheepish at the sudden intrusion, “is this a bad time? I—”
“No,” Beomgyu says with a sniffle, “what is it?”
“Did you… did you feel the snowstorm just now?”
Beomgyu knits his eyebrows together. “Snowstorm?” He scratches his head, sighing after a stilted second. “Ah, I get ya. Look, Soobin, I’m really sorry for playing my instruments so loud that it felt like a snowstorm to you. It’s just that..." he bites his lip, tentative. "I’m going through something, and I needed to let it out. Probably pretty insensitive of me, huh? Considering I just moved in not long ago and you said you got this whole important speech to do this morning.”
“Huh?” Soobin interrupts. “That speech was yesterday, and yeah, it is pretty insensitive of you. I woke up late and missed the program, you know.” Frustration builds up in his bones again when he recalls yesterday, and he momentarily forgets about the entire thing with the snowstorm, flashes of anger taking its place in his brain.
“But didn’t you just tell me to tone it down last night? Or were you…” Beomgyu casts his gaze away. “Dammit, I knew I shouldn’t have drank too much, now I’m losing track of time,” he mumbles, clear enough for Soobin to hear.
And that’s all the explanation Soobin needs to hear to know that he can’t exactly rely on his cousin to provide him with accurate info regarding the mysterious snowstorm. So he asks him to forget about it and heads out to ask their neighbors from the other units. He’s only met with confused faces and annoyed glares.
Returning to his room, he plops down on the bed and concludes that he really must have dreamt the entire event up.
He grabs his phone from his nightstand, preparing to text Yeonjun about what just happened, when he feels the hair on the back of his neck stand as the device lights up.
Upcoming alarm, the notification on his lockscreen reads, 5:30 AM — pre-grad party opening address at 7. don’t be late. fighting!
“What?”
Just above the reminder lies the actual time and day of the week. Friday, 4:43 AM.
“What?” Soobin repeats, thumb frantic as it swipes to his calendar app, neck snapping to consult his wall clock. He even searches up ‘time and date in changwon right now’ to make sure that it isn’t just his device settings acting up on him.
The results match up with the info on his phone.
He drops his phone on the bed, carding through his hair and rubbing distressed circles over his lids in an attempt to calm himself down.
Either he’s going through some really intense form of deja vu, or he just had the most realistic nightmare last night involving the absolute worst day of his high school life.
There’s a third explanation, too, but that one may be a bit too outlandish for comfort and Soobin may be a bit too skeptical to even consider it.
After a few minutes of being terrified beyond (dis)belief, Soobin presses his lips together, smirking ever so slightly, puddles forming on his cheeks. “No, you know what?” he tells himself, hands on his knees. “I’m not even going to question this… for now. This is good. This is that second chance, a reset, just like what I wanted.” He stands up and starts pacing the room, not sure if he’s making any sense.
He stares back at his phone. Friday, 4:51 AM. He turns his attention to Odi’s cage. “Look at that, Odi-ya. I just beat my alarm, as usual. Today’s going to be another perfect day.
Without the pressure of time messing up his coordination, Soobin goes through the morning much better the second time around. He takes an actual bath, gives Odi just the right amount of food, and properly puts on the ironed white polo and black slacks he prepared the night (or technically two?) before. His hair is neatly combed back, forehead clear and dimples on full display, a satisfied hum rumbling in his chest when he assesses his reflection.
“Why, student council president, don’t you look sharp today? Best be on your way now; can’t keep your audience waiting,” he tries to huff out confidently, though he laughs at how ridiculous he ends up sounding. His phone pings, and he reads Yeonjun’s message of good morning, sunshine, a smile automatically forming on his face.
At the end of the hallway, Soobin hesitates using the elevator, knowing that it’s going to break down; though he recalls that it happens much later in the morning, it’s better to be safe than sorry. He takes the stairs, going down five flights to the apartment lobby.
“Wow, you’re already looking like a true Seoulite,” the receptionist chirps once Soobin passes by. He returns their compliment with a thankful bow.
The snow is still falling heavily, but Soobin doesn’t slip on the sidewalk this time.
On my way, he texts Taehyun while comfortably seated on the bus, and Taehyun replies, punctual, though I expected nothing less.
After a minute, he receives a different message.
Btw, Soob! Remember to throw me a smile from the stage when you give your speech, ‘kay? Yeonjun reminds him, to which he sends an of course in response.
So far, so good.
That is, until Soobin delivers the opening remarks and freezes in the middle of it, right at the part where he’s enumerating the various plans of the graduating class.
“Some of us will follow their dreams to the capital, others will forge their paths abroad—” remembering his promise to his best friend, he surveys the area; as soon as his field of vision locks on Yeonjun, however, he suddenly chokes, the next words stuck clinging to his throat. When he looks down to the printed copy of his speech on the podium, the text blurs, black merging into white. “I, uh, abroad…” he stutters out, a bead of sweat cascading down his temple despite the February chill. Yeonjun looks back at him, mouthing an encouraging you got this.
Nope. Soobin definitely does not 'got this.'
And instead of continuing with his address, Soobin just wonders. Wonders why the fuck this is happening to him, when he’s been rehearsing this for months now. Wonders what it is with seeing Yeonjun that made him blank out like this.
He also wonders if he could still get another retry. Maybe whatever cosmic entity or force that granted him this second chance would give him another one, seeing as how he isn’t exactly getting everything right this time around either.
Maybe.
Later that day when he arrives home—utterly disappointed at how he stood like a statue at the podium during his speech, and still somehow managing to get coffee spilled on his clothes—he ignores Beomgyu trying to cure his hangover in the kitchen and heads straight to his room.
After sharing his woes with Odi at the hedgehog’s play pen again, and taking a very, very cold shower, Soobin slips into his blue striped pajamas, which are a bit different from his usual nightwear, but hey, he’s feeling extra in need of warmth and comfort right now.
As he blinks, eyelids heavy chasing for sleep and repose, he absentmindedly mutters a small wish under his breath.
· · ─────── ·🦔· ─────── · ·
It’s Friday again (hopefully).
Soobin wakes up to the sound of Odi running on his wheel.
“Odi-ya,” he groans, scratching his chest in a half-asleep daze, “let hyung sleep and dream for a bit more. I had the most terrible day yesterday, and—”
His eyes widen when he feels his fingers rubbing at cotton, but not buttons. Hands tugging at sleeves, but not ones that go down to his wrists. Eyes looking down at colors and patterns, but not of blue and stripes.
“Holy shit!” he exclaims, balling fists into his white shirt. This isn’t what he changed into last night, which means…
He checks his phone and his assumptions are proven correct. Friday, 4:43 AM.
Soobins turns his head to Odi’s cage, a huge grin plastered to his face. “Look at that, Odi-ya. I just beat my alarm, as usual. Today’s going to be another perfect day.”
He goes through his morning routine with an almost mechanical sort of grace. Not a hair out of place, nor a pellet, nor a thought.
“You’re early,” Taehyun tells him as he enters the school gymnasium. “Well, I didn’t—”
“—expect any less? Of course you didn’t,” Soobin finishes the sentence for him. “I’m the paragon of punctuality, after all. I have a good grasp of my time, as you may know.”
Taehyun looks at him, eyes and smile wide. “That’s the spirit, hyung. Ready to knock ‘em dead?”
“I was ready yesterday,” Soobin tells him, a bit sly.
And it’s the same speech as yesterday, and the day before that. But now every word is practiced, every gesture on point, every beat perfectly placed, just like how he’s always done it in front of his mirror at home. He makes sure not to look at Yeonjun directly this time, though, scared of a repeat of last time, and of something else.
“...and it’s this fire in each and every one of us, burning with passion, that will take us to greater heights. Together, we march on to this brighter tomorrow. Thank you, and once again, congratulations, graduates. See you all at the ceremony next week!”
A round of applause fills the gymnasium, and Taehyun gives Soobin two thumbs up from the side of the stage.
“Great job, prez,” Jaemin pats Soobin’s back as he takes his seat beside him.
“Charismatic as always, Soobin,” Chaewon remarks with a purse of her lips, fishing out the carrot slices from her bowl and dropping them down on Kai’s plate.
Hyeju tuts. “You could just give them to me if you didn’t want them. Stop bothering poor Kai,” she tells Chaewon.
“Kai likes them,” Chaewon argues, to which Hyeju responds with a grumble, “uh-huh, but I like ‘em too… and you knew that.”
Taehyun appears after a few minutes, pulling a chair and sitting beside Soobin. “Great speech, hyung.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Soobin deadpans, a little worn from the nerves.
Taehyun notices his less-than-stellar reaction. “Woah, what? I’m serious; you knocked it out of the park with this one. Didn’t you see the look on Mr. Lee’s face? He’s as grouchy as a math teacher can get, but he cried, hyung. Actual tears. Down his cheeks. And you made him do that,” he pokes Soobin’s chest to emphasize his point. Soobin rubs at the area and smiles weakly.
“I personally enjoyed the part where you mentioned us one by one. Felt like a shoutout from a celebrity,” Seonwoo gushes, arm reaching to the middle of the table to get a piece of hotteok.
After a bite (more like a chomp) of japchae, Heejin chimes into the conversation. “I liked it when you talked about freezing time, and not wanting high school to end. That was really touching… and relatable,” she comments, waving her chopsticks in the air. She points them toward a disgruntled-looking Hyeju after devouring another mouthful of noodles. “Hey you, Hye, if you were given the chance to freeze time and do something forever with no limits, what would you do?”
Hyeju scrunches her face. “Dunno. Twenty-four hours in a day seems enough to me. I already get bored with that much, so what the hell am I supposed to do with infinite time?” She turns to Chaewon, gesturing to her plate, “do you want some injeolmi?”
“Oh, please. Just say that you would spend all that extra time with Chaewon,” Jaemin butts in, his smile so wide that it looks like his perfect teeth would jump out of his mouth any second now.
And Hyeju probably does want to do just that, with the way she’s casting sharp glares at him.
Jaemin continues regardless, a hand stroking his chin. “Well, I’d use that time to try all sorts of things—skydiving, paragliding, skateboarding, every extreme sport known to the world.”
“Aren’t you scared of heights?” Taehyun asks from across the table, shoving a piece of tteok into his mouth.
“Nope. I’m scared of dying.”
“Having infinite time doesn’t mean you’d be immune to dying,” Kai adds with a chuckle, his first contribution to the discussion. “And any injuries you get would probably be permanent, too,” he shrugs, “y’know, since time heals all wounds.”
The entire student council present at the table groans, though they make sure to follow with laughter after a split second, if only to appease Kai.
The conversation continues in the same vein, and Soobin just listens. Listens as Heejin proclaims that she’d use the time to find her soulmate, and as Jaemin tells her how ridiculous that sounds while laughing to her face, listens as Taehyun says that he’ll try discovering all the secrets of the universe, and as Hyeju reminds Chaewon to not talk with her mouth full when the latter tries to share her own answer.
“How about you, prez? What would you do?” Jaemin redirects the question to Soobin.
“Huh?”
“What would you do,” Jaemin waves his hand in circles, “if you had frozen, infinite time?”
Soobin pauses, not really thinking of a reply, but just considering the specifics (and the relevance) of the question. “I don’t know. I guess I’ll just keep doing what I always have.”
“Huh,” Jaemin says, sounding unimpressed. “Oh, hey, look who’s here. It’s the student council’s special honorary member,” he declares when Yeonjun approaches their table. He stands up and offers his chair to him so he could take his place next to Soobin.
“You liar.” Yeonjun whips his face toward Soobin as soon as he sits down, the accusation’s gravity betrayed by the playful look on his face.
“What?” Soobin furrows his brows, confused, though he already has an inkling of what Yeonjun’s talking about.
“You told me you’d smile at me from the stage, but you didn’t even look at me once,” Yeonjun pouts, chin in his hand. “Li—ar,” he emphasizes the word.
“Oooh, what is this? A lover’s quarrel?” Jaemin teases.
Soobin feels warmth creep up his cheeks. “It’s nothing like that,” he defends with a roll of his eyes, before turning back to Yeonjun. “Sorry, I was a bit nervous.”
“All the more reason for you to search for me in the crowd, don’t you think? Who else could make you feel at ease but your bestest buddy?” Yeonjun cocks his eyebrows at Soobin. He reaches to the middle of the table to grab a piece of kimbap, popping it into his mouth right after.
If only Yeonjun knew.
“Ah, Yeonjun, here’s a question for you,” Heejin starts. Looks like she isn’t satisfied with the answers she’s gathered prior to Yeonjun’s arrival yet. “What would you do if you had infinite time?”
Yeonjun swallows after a few more chews. “I would travel to every country on earth, and then some,” he says without hesitating, as if that’s the only possible answer. The only thing he’s ever wanted, he’ll ever want.
“I figured you’d say that,” Heejin gives an approving slap of the table. “Oh, speaking of, when are you leaving for the States again?”
It’s one of those topics that never fails to come up whenever Yeonjun is involved, about him deciding to take a gap year to explore North America. Soobin admits that he’s getting a little sick of discussing it, for reasons that aren’t entirely clear to him. He thinks he may just be a little envious that his best friend doesn’t need to immediately throw himself to the academic wolves at university, unlike him.
“Next week, the day after graduation. Soob here’s gonna see me off at the station.” He places a hand on Soobin’s shoulder, and Soobin could feel the warmth of his fingertips through the fabric of his shirt.
“It’s so exciting,” Kai chirps after a sip of juice. “Make sure to visit Hawaii for me! I’ve always wanted to go back there but I’ve never found the time.”
“I’ll be sure to enjoy all the beaches for you, Kai-ya,” Yeonjun answers. “I’ll take pretty pictures, too.”
Sitting there with the people he’s become the closest to in high school—as they talk and joke and enjoy each other’s company—Soobin feels that he’s finally gotten it right today; third time’s the charm, after all. He did everything perfectly: woke up on time and left the best, lasting impression on the school with his address. With how things went, he doesn’t really need another retry, and time will move again for him and for everyone else, as tomorrow comes, and so does the day after, so does next week, so does grad, and so does Yeonjun riding the train to the airport, the plane to another country, away from Changwon, from Soobin.
“I’m gonna refill our plates with more food from the buffet table,” he suddenly says, perhaps having heard enough of Yeonjun’s plans of sleighing across the great Alaskan plains.
Jaemin cheers, clapping. “That’s our president!” He enthusiastically points both hands toward Soobin's way.
“I’ll come with you,” Yeonjun stands up, and Soobin doesn’t say no, even if he doesn’t really feel like being with him right now. Yeonjun is nothing if not persistent, after all, and Soobin is easy to convince, especially when it comes to his best friend—doesn’t mean he’s agreed with everything Yeonjun suggests, though. Sometimes he wishes that he has.
Before they even reach the area that houses the buffet tables, however, a student zooms by, both hands full and unsteady trying to balance a good three or four beverages, and as (un)luck would have it, trips and spills everything on Soobin.
Good grief.
“I’m so, so, sorry,” the student says, grabbing a handful of paper napkins from the nearest table and frantically dabbing them on Soobin’s chest.
“I think we still have some extra shirts in our clubroom,” Yeonjun offers when it becomes clear that the napkins are not helping. Soobin registers this as the third time Yeonjun’s told him that, the two previous days having ended with him getting angry at him, probably because of how sour he becomes after flubbing his speech the first two times. Now that he’s in a better mood without that burden, the outcome might be different, more positive.
Soobin hesitates, and Yeonjun nudges his side to get him to move. “Come on, Mr. President, let’s go.” He grabs Soobin’s arm and all but drags him out of the gymnasium and through the empty hallways of their high school until they reach the dance club’s practice room.
“You still have the key? Aren’t you supposed to surrender it by now?”
“I was gonna give it back to Mr. Wang today, after the program. Why? Aren’t you thankful I still have it with me?” Yeonjun opens the door with a click of the lock, and switches the light on once they enter. He rummages through the drawers and picks out a black polo shirt.
“This’ll probably fit you. Not as fancy as the one you have on right now, but at least it isn’t tie-dyed with—” he brings his face close to Soobin’s chest, sniffing, “—iced espresso, five shots, no cream or sugar.”
Soobin chuckles to stifle the blush on his cheeks. He thinks that this version of the day might be better already, since the first two times went with him not even attempting a smile when Yeonjun made the same joke. “Sounds like Jaemin’s choice coffee.”
“Jaemin’s real pick is iced americano, eight shots, for your information—much worse.”
“Straight-up rat poison. No wonder the guy’s so energetic all the time. I can’t imagine what the crashes are like, though.”
“I could make one for you if you’d like, then you’d find out.”
“And what? Die of a heart attack? No, thanks.”
“Well,” Yeonjun says after a brief laugh, handing Soobin the black polo shirt, “better get changed now, before the caffeine seeps into your skin and does just that.”
When Soobin hesitates to unbutton his dress shirt, Yeonjun gives him a puzzled look.
“Nothing I haven’t seen before, right? Why? Do you want me to turn around and cover my eyes?”
“Uh—”
“Oh, Soob,” Yeonjun mutters. He pinches Soobin’s cheek before turning on his heels to roam the room.
After Soobin quickly puts on the shirt—which surprisingly fits well enough—he walks up next to Yeonjun.
Yeonjun heaves a wistful sigh, both hands in the pockets of his pants. “I’m gonna miss this place.”
He says it with the voice Soobin knows he reserves for specific conversations, like those small moments in the past when they were both seven and afraid of the monsters in the closet, both sixteen and anxious about entering high school, both nineteen and considering colleges, Yeonjun asking Soobin to join him in his ambitious journey around the world, Soobin refusing without even sparing him a thought, Yeonjun’s face falling right after.
Falling the same way it is now, sincere and vulnerable and aching.
“Yeah, I’m gonna miss it, too,” Soobin says as he looks around the quaint room, with its hardwood floor and covered mirrors, then at his best friend, taking note of every single detail of his profile—the curve of his forehead, the strands of his hair, the slope of his nose, the shape of his lips. He realizes, perhaps a bit belatedly now, that he only has but a week left until this figure in front of him, real and tangible and present, would be reduced to pixels on a screen, audio bytes of a call, how are you’s exchanged through a messaging app.
Soobin continues. “I’ll miss meeting you here after classes, and I’ll miss you lounging at the student council room…” he trails off, averting his gaze downward, “but you can always visit, you know, when you get back from America. We can visit together.”
“It’ll be different by then, though. I’ll be different.”
Will we be different, too? Soobin wants to ask but doesn’t.
“Since I’ll be the man who’s visited all fifty states… plus Canada!” Yeonjun turns his head to look at Soobin, and he has that expression that’s reserved for situations in dire need of cheering up. Situations like this. “Might even have a slight foreign accent once I get back here.”
Soobin rolls his eyes. “Shut up. But do you really think you can do it in under a year?”
“What are you talking about? Of course I can.” Yeonjun taps Soobin’s chest with the back of his hand. “It’s easy; I’ve already planned out my entire itinerary. I’ve told you all about my plans, haven’t I?”
Soobin nods. It would’ve been their plans, had Soobin only accepted his proposal. He tries not to dwell on that; it’s not like he can travel back in time and repeat that day instead of this one, after all. Maybe if he wishes hard enough, though…
Yeonjun clears his throat, bringing Soobin back to reality. “Anyway, we should probably get going now. There’s still the rest of the program to go through, and we can’t possibly miss Taehyunie’s closing remarks.” He quietly brings a hand to wrap around Soobin’s own. “It’s a big day for all of us.”
And Soobin nods again, because that’s all he can do at this moment, all he can muster in lieu of a thousand unsaid words.
--
It’s a satisfactory day, Soobin concludes once he gets home, briefly acknowledging his cousin whose head is slumped on the kitchen island on his way to his room.
“Hey there, Odi. Guess what? I think I’ve finally gotten everything right today.” Soobin remembers the iced coffee catastrophe. “Well, not everything…” He looks at his white button-down, immediately gets to work on removing the brown tinge using a stain remover, washing it by hand.
As he showers and slips into his usual shirt and boxers later that evening, he can’t help but feel a little hollow despite the day being great, relatively speaking. After deducing that it’s simply the crash after the high, that it’s just fatigue mixed with relief, he wraps his blankets tighter around his body, and tries to sleep.
It takes a while, his mind adamant on keeping him awake, on keeping him away from the (new) tomorrow that awaits. Now that he’s succeeded with the tasks he originally failed—sans one—he’s certain that he’ll wake up to a Saturday, then a Sunday, then…
His eyelids finally drop, allowing him to fall to sleep.
· · ─────── ·🦔· ─────── · ·
It’s not Friday anymore, right?
Soobin wakes up to the sound of Odi running on his wheel.
He grumbles, whatever words he’s supposed to say spilling out, muffled into his bedsheets.
Surmising that it’s much too early on a Saturday morning to get out of bed, Soobin tries to ignore the noises of squeaking plastic, covering his ears with one of his pillows, just drifting back to sleep.
His alarm rings a couple minutes later.
Soobin gasps, sitting up to check his phone.
Alarm, the notification on his lockscreen reads, 5:30 AM — pre-grad party opening address at 7. don’t be late. fighting! The options snooze and dismiss are just below it; he presses dismiss to turn the blaring sound off.
He runs his hands through his hair, his eyes just about jumping out of their sockets when he sees the word Friday on his lockscreen.
No fucking way.
It’s still Friday. The day reset… again.
Soobin wobbles out of bed, head and chest pounding with fear, confusion, disbelief. But why? Why the hell is it still Friday? He already blew everyone away with his speech at the pre-grad party. What else could he possibly need to do right?
He thinks back to the coffee spilling on his shirt. Was that it? That one, small, seemingly insignificant event? Does he need to avoid that, too, for the day to be considered perfect? He isn’t given enough time to think about it, though, as he receives a text from Yeonjun.
Good morning, sunshine.
Soobin is in a daze when he goes through the day (again), but he’s still focused enough to not trip on his own two feet.
He receives the same compliment from the receptionist at the lobby, gets on the same bus to school, and gives the same address during the opening of the pre-grad party.
Then there’s Jaemin’s question of “what would you do with infinite, frozen time?”, his answer of “I don’t know,” Yeonjun’s accusation of “li—ar.”
“Sorry, I was just nervous. I would’ve choked on my own spit if I had looked at you while speaking.”
Oops. That was different, at least. Brutally honest, too.
Yeonjun blinks at him once, twice, one too many times. “Aww, Soobin. I didn’t know you found me that distracting,” he says in that tenor that’s reserved for casual flirting, light teasing. Most times Soobin doesn’t mind it, and indulges in it, even, but right now he’s too high-strung and is on the verge of losing his damn mind, so he isn’t exactly in the mood to play along.
“Are you okay?” Yeonjun asks, concern etched in his question. He brings the back of his hand up to Soobin’s forehead. “You look a little pale, and you’re sweating. Are you getting chills?”
Soobin grabs Yeonjun’s wrist to bring his hand down. “I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me.” After a pause he feels his stomach lurch, his insides screaming to jump, traveling up to his throat and threatening to leave through his mouth. “I may need to go to the bathroom right now, though.”
He stands up, a little lightheaded, stumbling as he gets out of his chair. Yeonjun reaches out to catch him. “Woah, you are definitely not okay. Here, let me come with you—”
“I said I’m fine,” he raises his voice, and Yeonjun looks at him, his council members look at him, and Soobin wants nothing more than to vanish right then and there.
So he does the next best thing and runs, escaping to the restroom, hiding there and pacing the cream floor tiles.
He tries to turn on the faucet in the hopes that washing his face would wake him up from whatever he’s found himself in—premonition, nightmare, purgatory, who the fuck knows or cares at this point. When it doesn’t work and no water runs out, he resorts to tapping the faucet a few times, and by the fifth hit, the faucet shakes, and bursts with so much pressure that it sprays right onto Soobin’s clothes, drenching him in the process.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he mutters under his breath, just as Yeonjun enters the bathroom and witnesses this accident.
You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me, Soobin repeats in his head.
Mouth formed in an oh, Yeonjun suggests that they go to the clubroom. “We have extra shirts there.”
“I know,” Soobin sighs, sounding all kinds of defeated, “but I think I’ll just call it a day and head home now.”
“What? Even before the program ends?”
Soobin can’t go to the clubroom again, can’t subject himself to seeing Yeonjun’s face as it falls, can’t have himself searching for his best friend even when he’s right there with him.
“Yeah, tell the council I got sick or something.”
Yeonjun tries to reach for him, persuade him to stay, allow him to go with him, but Soobin doesn’t feel like giving into any of those whims (whose, exactly?) right now.
So he just leaves, out of the bathroom, and away from Yeonjun.
--
Having left pre-grad early, Soobin is left with nothing to do all day. Sitting awestruck on his bed, he weighs the options in his head: (a) he could try getting to the bottom of this, though he doesn’t know where he’d have to start; (b) he could try telling someone to get help and to maybe feel less alone, though he’s not sure who and how to do that; or (c) he could accept this anomaly as is and use it to his advantage, since the possibilities of what he could do with it are endless.
As he thinks of the other actions he could take, more and more questions begin plaguing his mind. Above all, he’s struck with the sinking realization that he might actually be stuck here, trapped in a never-ending loop of Fridays, doomed to a life of speeches, pre-grad parties, drenched dress shirts, and tense situations in clubrooms with his best friend.
He could feel the calm and collected image that he’s built over the years in his journey to become Choi Soobin, straight-A student, student council president, and SNU scholar; chip away, little by little, along with his sanity.
He needs to do something about this.
He needs to do research.
--
Soobin shuts his laptop after the credits roll for what is the fifth (or sixth?) film he’s watched that involves time loops and time travel. It’s close to midnight now, and Soobin wonders what’ll happen when the clock strikes twelve, if it’d be like the movies with him blacking out and waking up in his bed no matter what he does or where he goes.
Suffice to say, Soobin doesn’t get that many answers from watching, though he did take a lot of notes, just in case they come in handy later on. He was thoroughly entertained for ten or so straight hours, at least. He realizes that he rarely ever spends that much time on things outside of academics and (student) politics.
It doesn’t matter, anyway, considering time would just reset the following day. He can waste as many hours as he wants on movies and Netflix and plenty of other things. Maybe his little predicament isn’t so bad after all, since now he’s finally able to marathon all the shows on his watchlist.
He yawns, eyes worse for wear from staring at a screen all day. Out of curiosity he wills himself to stay awake, waiting as the clock on his phone goes from 23:58 to 23:59, and then—
· · ─────── ·🦔· ─────── · ·
It’s Friday again… and again.
Soobin wakes up to the sound of Odi running on his wheel.
Hearing the hauntingly familiar noise, Soobin checks his phone and is likewise greeted by the tauntingly familiar name of the day. Friday. He can almost cry.
It’s confirmed. Soobin is stuck in a time loop.
Now he knows that staying up to try and reach the next day doesn’t make any difference. That’s one thing the movies definitely got right.
Something else Soobin eventually finds out is that no matter how careful he is, he’ll always end up soaked, drenched, with some variation of liquid spilled on his clothes, whenever he attends the pre-grad party. It’s just one of those hard constants that he can never avoid. It’s 100% guaranteed to happen, whether he arrives in the same outfit or not, whether he does the speech well or not, whether he looks at Yeonjun from the stage or not; the universe seems adamant to push him toward the direction of the clubroom. He wonders if he should start searching for clues during that specific event, but he can’t really focus when Yeonjun’s expression looks the way it does when he says ‘I’m gonna miss this,’ every time.
After discovering that, he goes on to try several other things—some he does just to study the loop’s nature, some he does as an attempt to break the cycle, and some he just does for the hell of it.
He evidently spends a lot of time (or non-time?) on the third option.
Because look, he sacrificed a lot of ‘for-the-hell-of-it’ experiences being as serious as he was in high school, okay? And what better time to do them than now, when he’s got an endless supply of just that—time?
So that’s exactly what he does when he finds himself waking up to another Friday the next morning, and the next, and the next.
He calls in sick at the start of every day, asking Taehyun to fill in for him at pre-grad, reassuring Yeonjun through numerous calls that he’s doing okay, and trying his damn best not to give in when his best friend insists that he should go visit him to take care of his ‘poor Soobinie.’ Tries not to blush when Yeonjun says the nickname, tries not to acknowledge that he’s trying not to blush. Tries to act surprised when Yeonjun stays stubborn, ending up at Soobin’s doorstep undeterred, various supplies in tow—medicines and teas and ingredients for rice porridge.
On some (most) iterations of the day, Soobin just lets it happen. Lets Yeonjun march into their kitchen, with him declaring that oh, it’s his responsibility, especially when Soobin’s parents aren’t here to take care of him, and maybe Soobin’s cousin would appreciate some rice porridge, too. Lets Yeonjun take care of him, even if he isn’t really sick, sick, just sick of reliving the same day over and over again with no hope of escape in sight. Lets Yeonjun lie down next to him on the bed, like he’s always done since they were kids, like he won’t be able to do once he leaves.
On other (a few) iterations of the day, Soobin turns off his phone and flees his room before Yeonjun arrives at their apartment. He goes anywhere his feet and money would take him. He tours the entire city, taking in the blues and whites of the snow-covered pavements and parks, the smells of the rows upon rows of stalls at the seafood market, the lights of games and machines at the arcades, the sounds of birds and other animals at the nature reserves.
He could never get out of Changwon, however, public transportation halted for the day due to heavy snowfall. Great, he thinks. Not only is he stuck in the same day, but he’s trapped in the same city, just like the guy from the movie he watched a hundred Fridays ago. Trapped in this city, trapped in this country, never to leave, here to stay for eternity. Maybe Soobin is in hell.
He needs to do something about this.
He needs to tell someone.
--
The first person Soobin approaches isn’t Yeonjun, though he’s not exactly sure why. It’s not like Yeonjun wouldn’t believe him, considering he’s never doubted Soobin before, having built enough trust through countless promises and secrets shared just between the two of them. But there’s this nagging voice in the back of his mind that’s telling him that he shouldn’t tell his best friend just yet.
So he tells Taehyun instead.
It takes a couple of days to convince him, but once he does, Soobin is set.
Or so he thinks, because as he listens to the what could possibly be the tenth lecture (Soobin has long given up on keeping track) involving the theory of relativity, deep quantum physics, closed timelike curves, and other terms and formulae that won’t register and stick to Soobin’s brain no matter how many times Taehyun eagerly explains them to him, Soobin finds himself at a loss. It sucks, too, since even if he tries to record and jot down the information that Taehyun relays to him, it always disappears the next day.
He always did loathe his math subjects, and the only reason he was able to get good grades at them is through tutoring sessions and late study nights with Yeonjun by his side, cheering him on.
So, asking for Taehyun’s help: ddaeng.
Soobin tells Kai next.
It doesn’t take even a second to convince him, as gullible as he is, but it 's not much help either.
“Maybe you can use all that time to finally beat my rank at League. You’ve been slacking off, you know.”
“Kai, I have not played that game since grade school.”
“You just rage-quit because you weren’t any good at it.”
Soobin plays League—and only plays League—for twelve Fridays straight after that, mastering how to main a good four champions. “This’ll show Kai,” he mutters under his breath, eyes darting across the screen and hands quick on the mouse and keyboard. Soobin admits that he can get competitive... once in a while.
By the twentieth time he’s accused of smurfing in-game, however, he decides to stop. This isn’t what he set out to do; he needs to find a way out of this loop, for fuck's sake! (Plus he wouldn't even be able to advance his rank if the day just keeps resetting, so.)
So, Kai: ddaeng.
After the two closest to him in the student council don’t do much except use up a few of his infinite days and fry a lot of his brain cells, he proceeds to tell the other members.
“Maybe you need to find your soulmate and kiss ‘em before the clock strikes twelve!” Heejin: ddaeng.
“Soobin, this is perfect! We should try ice skating at the lake. I heard it completely froze overnight! Isn’t that awesome?” Jaemin: ddaeng.
“Have you used your time to try every item on your fave resto's menu?” Hyeju: ddae—wait.
After that suggestion, Soobin spends the next few days at his favorite cafes and bakeries, ordering all the pastries and sweet drinks he can stuff his cheeks with without any care in the world.
That sure was fun—thanks, Hyeju. Now, back to business.
“I don’t know. This certainly sounds like a prank. Did Hyeju rope you into this?” Chaewon: ddaeng.
“Hyung, are you… Dr. Strange?! Is that what you’re telling me? And what’s that? You want me to be your sidekick? Oh my, I’m so honored! I wonder what superhero name could work. Wait, let me think.” Seonwoo: ddaeng.
Ddaeng. Ddaeng. Ddaengddaengddaengddaeng.
· · ─────── ·🦔· ─────── · ·
It’s Friday, Friday, gotta get out of Friday.
Soobin wakes up to the sound of Odi running on his wheel.
…which promptly turns into the sound of bells repeatedly ringing ddaeng in his ears, so loud that Soobin is scared half to death that he would go deaf.
He takes a deep breath, giving himself time (hah!) to assess the situation. At this point he’s told everyone he could tell. Well not everyone; he hasn’t told Yeonjun.
Maybe today’s the day that he will.
Or not.
He suddenly remembers the first reset of the Friday, seemingly eons ago, when he had knocked on Beomgyu’s door and seen his eyes red from crying. The anger he had felt back then overcame whatever concern bubbled underneath, so he hadn’t paid the obvious hurt in his cousin’s face any mind. But now, with so many, many days having passed since then, his initial vexation has disappeared, and what’s left is an inexplicable urge to comfort a family member whom he knows is having a hard time.
After dismissing his alarm, Soobin kicks his blankets to the floor and heads out of his room to knock loudly on Beomgyu’s door.
When his cousin doesn’t answer—to absolutely no one’s surprise—Soobin lets himself in and resorts to shaking him awake.
“Hey, Beomgyu,” he nudges his shoulder experimentally. “Get up. Let’s go somewhere.”
Beomgyu just groans, covering his eyes with his arm. “Go away.”
Unluckily for him, Soobin is determined, but most of all, he’s tired.
“No, I will not go away. I’m not leaving your room until you wake up, and then you’re gonna get dressed, and we’re gonna go out, and you’re gonna get some fresh air, and we’re going to tell each other stuff. Cousin bonding time, remember? And there’s nothing you can do about it.”
“And just why would I do that? Who the fuck are you? My fuckin’ counselor?”
“Because you need it.” I need it too, Soobin adds mentally. “And you owe me for keeping me awake last night with your shoddy guitar playing.”
Beomgyu instantly sits up at that, just like Soobin knew he would. “Take that back,” he points a threatening albeit shaky finger at Soobin’s face. “My guitar playing is not shoddy. I was just drunk.” He groans, bringing his hand to pinch at his nose. “I could show you what I’m really made of, but I’m not in my best shape today.”
“You weren’t exactly in your best shape yesterday, either. Or the days before that, to be honest, which is why we’re going to take a walk. Now. So hurry up and dress warmly; there’s a lot of snow today.”
Beomgyu sighs. “Where are we going, anyway?”
Soobin pauses for a moment. At this point he's already gone to every nook and cranny of the city, so he just lets someone else choose for him this time. “Anywhere you want.”
Beomgyu’s eyebrows shoot up, he protests with a pout, but in the end relents.
--
“Don’t you have an important speech today? You were blabbering all about it last night, like a broken record.” Beomgyu clears his throat when Soobin gives him a brief, sharp glare. “Sorry about that, by the way.”
“It’s fine,” Soobin says, throwing a few coins inside a blind busker’s guitar case. The man smiles in his direction, nodding as he continues crooning out a song Soobin doesn’t know the name of, but has already heard when he passed by this very same place some days ago.
Beomgyu decided that he wanted to go to Changdong Art Village, where people regularly set up their quaint places in front of the facades of stores and under the bulbs of streetlamps, with only their instruments, voices, and thick coats to accompany them as they share their music and expose their hearts to whoever’s willing to watch and listen.
Continuing through Sangsang-gil, Soobin observes how the snow, slow and light, falls to the ground, covering all the colorful squares with the names of people inscribed on the road, buried under white ice, where they would remain hidden and suffocated until Soobin figures a way out of this loop.
“Hey, Soobin,” Beomgyu says after staying silent for a while, warm breath visible under his chin. He looks up to the sky, and Soobin can see him holding back tears. “Thanks for this. And sorry I'm kind of an asshole. The thing with my folks… it’s just, it’s just pretty tough stuff.”
And in that moment, Soobin wishes he had done this sooner. Wishes that he hadn’t been so busy and caught up in his own goals that he hadn't noticed how much his cousin was hurting, hands wrapped around glass bottles a bit too frequently, fingertips pressed down fretboards a bit too harshly, everything happening all just a door away from him. That’s one thing the time loop’s brought him that he could be thankful for, at least—the ability to notice, to really notice, even the most miniscule of things.
“No problem, Beomgyu. Any time.”
Soobin doesn't tell Beomgyu about the time loop, not sure if doing so would be of any help to either of them.
So there’s only one person left to talk to, and Soobin would be lying if he said he wasn’t terrified of the things he might end up noticing once he does.
· · ─────── ·🦔· ─────── · ·
It’s Friday, and Friday is forever.
Soobin wakes up to the sound of Odi running on his wheel.
And he might only be imagining it, but he swears that the hammering in his chest is strong and loud enough to break his rib cage, ridiculous enough for the fist-sized organ to grow legs, jump out of his chest and scurry on to wherever—to whoever.
What if he’s not imagining it at all, though? What if this thing has always been here, and it’s only now that he’s actually noticed it, after innumerable Fridays of keeping it tucked away?
The possibility and its implications frightens him. Frightens him more than the morning he woke up late and missed the pre-grad speech of a lifetime, more than the day the results of the CSAT came out, more than the time Yeonjun asked him to drop everything and come with him to America.
Yeonjun.
Soobin takes a meaningful breath, thumb already pressed to turn his alarm off.
It’s final. Today is the day he tells Yeonjun about the loop.
--
“Hey, can we hang out after the program ends?” Soobin asks, voice echoing in the clubroom. He just got changed out of his umpteenth drenched shirt (it was cola this Friday).
Yeonjun is a little taken aback, brows raised in curiosity. Soobin thinks it’s cute how his forehead wrinkles when he’s even the slightest bit surprised. “Of course, Soob, what did you have in mind?”
“I was thinking you could…” Soobin bites his tongue. Is he sure about this? Never mind, he’s had all fucking day—lots of them, in fact—to think about it. “...you could stay over at our place later tonight?”
“Didn’t you say you just wanted to hit the hay as soon as you got home?”
“That was a different day,” Soobin says, “I changed my mind.”
“Soobinie changing his mind. That’s a little unusual." Yeonjun shrugs, grinning. "You know I’m always game for a fun sleepover, though.”
“Cool,” is all Soobin responds with, hoping that his faux composure doesn’t betray him.
Yeonjun knows him better than that, though. Yeonjun sees through those walls. He doesn’t really climb over them, really, and instead takes his time, grazing sensitive fingers over their notches, finding cracks as thin as fine string.
And it’s this talent—honed throughout all the years they've known each other—that urges Yeonjun to grab Soobin by the arms as soon as they get to his room later that day, face examining him closely.
“There’s something bothering you and you want to tell me about it, but you’re scared,” Yeonjun says.
“I, uh—”
Yeonjun knows the way around those walls best.
Yeonjun slides his hands down, wrapping his arms around Soobin’s middle, pulling him into a hug, hands pressed firmly to his back. “It’s okay, take your time,” he mutters into the crook of Soobin’s neck—whispers into the gaps between stones, knocks against hollows, removes the bricks one by one until he’s completely made his way inside.
“You didn’t give me much time to think when you asked me to ditch the country with you last year,” Soobin confesses, the words tumbling from his lips without much thought. His arms are wrapped around Yeonjun in a tight embrace, resolved to not let go for a while.
Soobin feels the hitched breath Yeonjun releases before speaking. “Why? Did you change your mind about it?”
“Maybe…”
…not, because the truth is, Soobin hasn’t changed his mind—no, not really. He still wants to head straight to university in Seoul when high school ends, still wants to get that diploma in psychology as soon as possible, still wants to teach and start taking a master’s program right after he graduates. Those have always been his plans, and he doesn’t see them changing any time soon, or ever, in fact.
But more than not being able to change his mind, Soobin is scared, terribly so. He’s scared of Yeonjun going away, and really, who could blame him? Who isn’t scared of losing their best friend?
Which is why it’s difficult to follow that neat outline of his life when the want to remain with Yeonjun is equally as unyielding and strong, if only a little (a lot) messy.
Alas, it’s impossible to have it both ways.
...so instead of Soobin leaving, it’s Yeonjun who stays.
It’s Yeonjun who stays—stays in Changwon, attending the pre-grad party; stays around the student council’s table, joking with the members over food; and stays in the clubroom, helping Soobin change out of his bleeding dress shirt. Stays and stays and stays, all throughout the endless Fridays.
Fuck, Soobin thinks, and Yeonjun pulls them away from the hug, leading the two of them to the bed—there they lie on their backs, staring at the ceiling, beige paint chipping away at the surface.
“I’m stuck in a time loop. I’ve been reliving the same day over and over again, for who knows how long now,” Soobin says with no warning after a stretched silence. He feels a weight vanish from his shoulders, and he braces himself for what could very well be another heavy load to replace it.
Yeonjun doesn’t flinch, simply sliding his hand across the sheets to slot into Soobin’s, fingers locking in place. It sends a light, airy feeling toward Soobin's way.
Soobin wishes that they could stay like this forever, that the day would never end.
Soobin should be careful what he wishes for. Soobin shouldn't be selfish.
But he allows himself to indulge in this, if only for one or two more (Fri)days.
“How many times have you told me this?” Yeonjun asks. He doesn’t doubt Soobin at all, and believes him right away, just like Soobin knew he would.
“This is the first.”
“Really, the first, huh?”
“Yes.”
Soobin thinks he should offer Yeonjun his honesty, at the very least. He can’t have Yeonjun thinking he’s a li—ar anymore, especially not after today, even if after today never comes.
“Why only now, though?”
“I was scared.”
“How scared? Monsters-under-the-bed scared, college-entrance-exams scared, first-crush scared, or…”
“Scared, scared, like it’s the most terrifying thing I’ve ever experienced scared."
Yeonjun nods, understanding. “Are you still scared now?”
“Maybe,” Soobin’s voice is shaky, and Yeonjun’s hand is steady, unmoving, interlaced with his.
Yeonjun hums. “So I probably won’t remember this tomorrow when the day repeats, would I?”
“Probably. Most likely. Yes. Sorry.”
Yeonjun chuckles, a low yet lovely sound that Soobin wishes he could store in a bottle and keep inside a magic chest, unaffected by the passage and cycles of time.
After the laughter, Yeonjun squeezes Soobin's hand tight. “Promise me you’ll tell me again, if the day resets. Even if I forget... make me remember.”
Soobin hesitates before asking, “how could I possibly make you remember?”
Yeonjun shifts to his side, his free hand carding through Soobin’s hair, thumb tracing circles over Soobin’s cheek, lashes fluttering to dart all over Soobin’s face. Soobin can see him swallowing, licking his lips before curling them into a soft smile.
“Just tell me, tell me about today, and maybe hug me again like you did a while ago. I’m sure that whichever version of me exists on that day, he’ll remember it, as long as you do it like that again, like you’ll never let me go.”
“I might need to do that, though—let you go, I mean. I can’t have you here with me for long… since you've been dreaming about traveling the world since we were kids. I could never keep you away from that.”
Yeonjun looks down, a little sad. “That may be true.” He takes a deep breath. “But even if you do let go, I’ll never truly leave, y’know? As long as you give me something to hold on to, I’ll always come back home.”
Soobin nods, because he understands, and that’s all he needs to say in lieu of a thousand unsaid words.
As they lay there on the bed that they’ve laid on countless times before, face to face with their breaths close enough to mingle together, Soobin notices.
He notices himself. He notices the smaller things, inspects the microscopic—tiny red cells that run through his veins, pump in and out of his heart, seep deep into the folds of his brain in the form of thoughts and desires: of Yeonjun next to him like this, of Yeonjun holding his hand, of Yeonjun pressed to his chest, of Yeonjun pulling away from his touch before diving back in right after.
That’s when it dawns on him, and it seems so glaringly obvious now that he almost can’t believe that it’s taken him more than a decade (and an infinite amount of Fridays) to realize it.
He’s in love with his best friend.
He’s in love with Yeonjun, which is why he wants him to stay, which is why they’re trapped in this time loop in the first place, and which is why he needs to break them out of it as soon as he can.
“And Soob?”
“Y-yeah?”
“Promise me that you’ll find me in the crowd during your speech, and that you'll smile at me once you do.”
“Okay. I promise,” and this time he means it.
As the two of them drift off to sleep, Soobin wonders, if only for a second, what it would be like to do something else with his eyes shut, something with Yeonjun, something other than dreaming.
· · ─────── ·🦔· ─────── · ·
It’s Friday, he’s in love.
Soobin wakes up to the sound of Odi running on his wheel.
…and to the absence of Yeonjun beside him. He’s not surprised or disappointed, though, since he still has unfinished business to attend to. Still has a few promises to fulfill, a few revelations to announce.
“Good morning, Odi,” he says as he cleans out the hedgehog’s cage and refills his food bowl. “Woke up before my alarm today, like always. I just hope today’s a good day.”
And Odi just stares up at him with his black, beady eyes, his quills relaxed and flat. Soobin imagines his pet smiling, wishing him good luck.
“Why, Soobin, don’t you look sharp today? Best be on your way now; can’t keep your best friend waiting,” Soobin huffs out in front of the mirror after getting ready, then repeats, slightly modified: “can’t keep the love of your life waiting,” he mumbles out, low and soft even though no one is around to hear it. He clears his throat, a distinct warmth crawling from his chest all the way up to the tip of his head.
It’s fine, he’s just trying the new label out. And it’s only the first day, but it already feels at home on his tongue. God, he feels like a lovesick teenager… which he is, in a way, he supposes.
Before exiting their apartment, Soobin enters Beomgyu’s room and gently nudges him awake.
“What the hell d’you want?” Beomgyu grumbles, to which Soobin only gives him a tight hug in response.
“Let’s talk later when I come back, okay? We can take a walk and I’ll listen to whatever you have to say.”
When he pulls away, Beomgyu has his eyebrows knit together, thoroughly confused.
“Then you can show me how much of a god you are with your Fender.”
That’s when Beomgyu finally opens his eyes wide, wakefulness apparent on his face. “Sure, Soobin, that’d be… cool.”
“See you later,” Soobin winks and turns tail.
He takes the stairs to the main lobby, but not before calling the apartment’s maintenance man and telling him to check the elevator, since it’s been having some problems lately.
When the receptionist comments, “wow, you’re already looking like a true Seoulite,” Soobin pauses, turns on his heels and shrugs, saying, “maybe, but no matter what happens my heart’ll always belong to Changwon—seafood markets, late afternoon buskers, unusual weather patterns, and all. You know what I mean.”
The receptionist straightens their back, beams and gives him a knowing look. “You can say that again. This city will always be home, and don’t you forget that.”
Soobin doesn’t avoid the slippery frost on the sidewalk as much as he actually dances around its surface, as graceful as snowflakes swaying in the air, anorak tight and warm around his body.
Btw, Soob! Remember to throw me a smile from the stage when you give your speech, ‘kay? Yeonjun reminds Soobin thru text, to which he sends an of course in response. Make sure to give me an even bigger smile back, he adds after.
“You’re early,” Taehyun tells him as he enters the school gymnasium. “Well, I didn’t expect anything less.”
“It’s only because I’ve got you," he cocks his head toward the student council's table, "and those guys to keep reminding me of who I am. Thanks, Tyun. I’m looking forward to your closing speech later.”
Taehyun startles, but regains composure not a moment after. “Likewise, hyung. Now get up there and blow them away.”
“Some of us will follow their dreams to the capital, others will forge their paths abroad—” remembering his promise to his best-friend-slash-love-of-his-life, he surveys the area; as soon as his field of vision locks on Yeonjun, his lips quiver, but only momentarily before they naturally form into an endearing smile.
He doesn’t remember the exact words that come next in the piece he originally prepared, but he doesn’t have any trouble filling the blanks in, impromptu-style. “—but no matter where life takes us, no matter how many days or months or years pass, we’ll always have our alma mater to return to—the experiences and memories we made here the light that carries our ships home; the people we met, the relationships we built in and out of classrooms, the anchors that we hold on to.”
Soobin doesn’t move his gaze away from Yeonjun when he says that, not even for a moment, and he takes in how his best friend's cheekbones ride up and his eyes transform into crescents as he smiles back.
Great job, prez,” Jaemin pats Soobin’s back as he takes his seat beside him.
“Charismatic as always, Soobin,” Chaewon remarks with a purse of her lips, fishing out the carrot slices from her bowl.
“You know Hyeju likes carrots, right, Chae?” Soobin remarks before Chaewon could move her chopsticks toward Kai’s direction.
Hyeju looks at him, her small, triangle-shaped mouth agape. She turns to Chaewon.
“Of course I do.” Chaewon blinks once, twice, before smiling and placing her carrot slices on Hyeju’s plate. “There you go, Hye.”
Soobin takes note of the slight blush on Hyeju’s cheeks.
Taehyun appears after a few minutes, pulling a chair and sitting beside Soobin. “Good speech, hyung.”
“Thanks,” Soobin beams. After a beat he adds out of curiosity, “what did you like best about it, Tyun?”
“Oh, me? Well, let’s see.” Taehyun hums and answers after a few moments. “When you relayed those stories about the faculty, I noticed that they really appreciated that. I mean, did you see the look on Mr. Lee’s face? He’s as grouchy as a math teacher can get, but he cried when you recalled the time he helped tutor all those kids for trig.”
“It’s because he’s actually a softie underneath that terror teacher exterior,” Heejin explains while mixing her japchae. “Could have never made it out of Grade 11 alive without him.”
And Soobin briefly laughs, moreso because he’s amused at the slight differences in the conversations of today and the ‘todays’ before this one.
Heejin continues talking after her first portion of food. “Personally I really liked it when you talked about freezing time, and not wanting high school to end. That was really touching… and relatable.” She points her chopsticks toward a smitten-looking Hyeju who's busy placing pieces of hotteok on Chaewon’s plate. Noticing this, Heejin turns her attention to Jaemin instead. “‘Bout you, Jaemin? Would you want to freeze time, and what would you do with infinite amounts of it?”
For what is hopefully the last time, Soobin listens to his fellow council members give the same answers. Catches himself offering a different answer, no longer an ‘I don’t know.’
“I think I’d use it to just sit back, and observe, y’know? Maybe spend some time with all the people I love, taking in every moment with purpose.”
“Woah.” For the first time in forever, Jaemin sounds impressed at Soobin’s answer. “Who knew that our student council president could get sentimental like that, huh? And here I thought you’d answer with something boring, like reading all the textbooks in the world.”
“That would’ve been my second pick,” Soobin says, to which Jaemin’s smile immediately falls, though it promptly comes back at the sight of Yeonjun approaching their table. “Oh, hey, look who’s here. It’s the student council’s special honorary member."
“Saw you smiling at me back there. I’m glad you kept your word,” Yeonjun coos, smile an almost permanent fixture on his face.
That is but one of two promises Soobins needs to fulfill today. He wonders how he’d go about with the other one.
“Ah, Yeonjun, here’s a question for you,” Heejin starts (again, but only Soobin is aware of that). “What would you do if you had infinite time?”
Yeonjun swallows after a few more chews. “I would travel to every country on earth, and then some,” he says without hesitating, and surprisingly, Soobin doesn’t feel a pang in his chest when he says it. Instead he just feels a sense of pride, of admiration, of adoration at how sure and steadfast and unchanging Yeonjun is throughout the different Fridays.
“I figured you’d say that,” Heejin gives an approving slap of the table. “Oh, speaking of, when are you leaving for the States again?”
“Next week, the day after graduation. Soob here’s gonna see me off at the station.” He places a hand on Soobin’s shoulder, and Soobin could feel the warmth of his fingertips through the fabric of his shirt. He brings his own hand up to place on Yeonjun’s, and his best friend looks at him appreciatively.
“It’s so exciting,” Kai chirps after a sip of juice. “Make sure to visit Hawaii for me! I’ve always wanted to go back there but I’ve never found the time.”
“I’ll be sure to enjoy all the beaches for you, Kai-ya,” Yeonjun answers. “I’ll take pretty pictures, too.”
“Are you gonna send me photos, too?” Soobin asks Yeonjun.
“Of course, which places are you most interested to see?”
“Any, as long as you’re in them.”
Soobin internally screams at what he said, not used to being the first one to initiate the flirting, but still. It just felt natural to say that, and to actually mean it with all his heart.
“Wah,” Jaemin exclaims, “look at Yeonjun blushing. So this is what they mean when they talk about the hunter becoming the hunted, huh? Never thought I’d see the day,” he jokes, bobbing his head up and down with a not bad expression on his face. “You’re surprising me with all this new info about you... a week before high school ends? Respect, prez.”
“That was smooth, Soob. Make sure you’re prepared for all the cute selfies I’m going to send you, though. You asked for them, so no complaining if I end up spamming you,” Yeonjun finally replies after a few more moments of laughter with the rest of the table. He pokes one of Soobin’s cheeks, finger digging into the soft dent of dimples.
As the day continues, stories and food exchanged between friends and schoolmates, Soobin starts looking around. He knows that sooner or later some clumsy senior would spill their beverage on his shirt, and he’d have to go to the clubroom with Yeonjun to change into a new one.
What he didn’t expect, however, was that Yeonjun would be the clumsy senior that ends up bumping the glass of cherry punch on the table, sending it tumbling down and splashing its contents on Soobin’s shirt. Soobin definitely didn’t expect that Yeonjun would be the one muttering apologies to him as he tries to dab paper napkins on Soobin’s chest, a sincere blush covering his cheeks. He didn’t expect it, because it’s never happened before—not during any of the Fridays before.
Which means this Friday is special. He has a good feeling that this really might be the last.
“We have extra shirts in the clubroom. Come with me.”
--
“This’ll probably fit you. Not as fancy as the one you have on right now, but at least it isn’t tie-dyed with cherry punch. You look like you just walked out of a murder scene… sorry about that.” Yeonjun laughs, his nose wrinkling, and Soobin thinks that it’s the most adorable thing in the world.
“It’s no big,” Soobin says while unbuttoning his dress shirt in front of Yeonjun, his embarrassment dwindling close to zero from having this happen so many times already. He has no problem exposing his heart, raw and open for Yeonjun to take if he so pleases. Soobin hopes he does.
Yeonjun averts his gaze, but Soobin’s already caught him staring. Walking around the room, Yeonjun heaves a wistful sigh, both hands in the pockets of his pants. “I’m gonna miss this place.”
Soobin walks up next to him, bumping the back of his hand on Yeonjun’s own hand-filled pocket. “I’m going to miss you,” he says, taking in the details of Yeonjun’s profile.
Yeonjun blinks, once, twice, before turning his head to stare right back into Soobin’s eyes. He glances downward, and seeing Soobin’s hand reaching out, he takes his own out of his pocket and gingerly locks a finger around Soobin’s pinky.
“We still have a week, you know.”
“We’ve had more than that, actually.”
“Huh? What do you—”
And before Yeonjun could even finish that question, Soobin pulls him in, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and hugging him tight, burying himself into the crook of Yeonjun’s neck, holding onto him like he means it. Holding onto him like he’ll never let go, just like he promised the Yeonjun of yesterday, the Yeonjun of today.
“I’m stuck in a time loop,” Soobin says, chin tucked over Yeonjun’s shoulder. “I’ve been reliving the same day over and over again, for who knows how long now.”
Yeonjun doesn’t flinch, and simply returns the hug, hands steady as they stroke Soobin’s back.
“How many times have you told me this?”
“This is the second.”
“What did I say the first time?”
“Well, you made me promise to tell you again today. To make you remember.”
Yeonjun pulls away to communicate with his gaze instead, and Soobin sees it. Sees the glint in Yeonjun’s eyes, a sign of recognition, albeit small and distant. He does remember, Soobin thinks, like he said he will. Even if his memory fails him, his soul recalls, his body knows.
“Thank you for keeping your promise.”
“You also told me to give you something to hold on to, so that you’d never truly leave even if you do go away.”
There’s a beat.
“So what am I going to hold on to, Soobin?”
There’s another beat, one that comes from Soobin’s chest, loud as he lovingly cups Yeonjun’s cheek, quick as he carefully closes his eyes, strong as he leans forward to meet Yeonjun’s lips.
And in that moment, Soobin feels like he’s kissing countless versions of Yeonjun altogether at once, the warmth and longing of a thousand days colliding into a spark in his chest, electric and buzzing underneath his skin.
“That’s the first time you’ve kissed me, isn’t it?” Yeonjun asks when they both pull away to breathe.
“Huh? Well, yeah…”
“I knew it.”
“Wait,” Soobin tilts his head, slightly confused at the implications of what his best friend just said. “What’s that supposed to mean? Are you saying that I don’t know how to kiss?”
“No, silly.” Yeonjun laughs, scrunching his face again, and Soobin wants nothing more than to litter his adorable nose, his forehead, his cheeks, his jaw, his everything with kisses. But for now, Soobin just lets Yeonjun explain himself. He’ll have plenty of time for kisses later on.
“I mean, it just felt like the first time. I think it would’ve felt different if it wasn’t, since I’d remember, right?”
“Oh, okay,” Soobin says, nodding. “Yeah, sure.”
“Well,” Yeonjun raises both eyebrows, biting his lower lip, “don’t tell me you’re going to let that one be our last? C’mere.” He playfully tugs at Soobin’s collar, pulling him in close.
“Oh, okay,” Soobin repeats, this time smiling into the kiss.
· · ─────── ·🦔· ─────── · ·
Thank God It's (Not) Friday.
Soobin wakes up to the sound of Odi running on his wheel.
Oh, no. Not that familiar noise again. It can’t be. It’s not possible. No way. No fu—
He hears the shuffling of bedsheets next to him, then feels an arm wrap around his waist, a leg drape over his legs.
He looks down, tucking his chin to see Yeonjun adorably rubbing his cheek against the cotton fabric of Soobin’s white shirt. Yeonjun must have noticed Soobin waking up, because he looks up at him, eyes half-lidded and lips curled into a sweet smile.
“Good morning, sunshine,” Yeonjun whispers, voice warm and husky in the morning. “Your pajamas are really comfy, y’know… but your cuddles are even better,” he says as he wraps his limbs tighter around Soobin.
Yeonjun is wearing the blue striped pajamas he had borrowed from Soobin last night, and he’s still here next to Soobin on his bed, which means…
“I did it,” Soobin chuckles out, hand running through his hair, “I finally did it.”
“Hmm?” Yeonjun says, probably still a little too asleep to understand what Soobin means.
“What day is it?” Soobin asks, hungry for confirmation.
“Let’s see… it was Friday yesterday, so—”
Yeonjun sits up, fully awake now. “It’s Saturday."
Soobin follows suit, beaming. “Yeah! Saturday! It's Saturday today, which means it was Friday yesterday, which means…” his smile falls a bit, and Yeonjun instantly notices.
“I know, I know,” Yeonjun coos, thumbing soothing circles over Soobin’s hand.
“You’re leaving next week.”
Yeonjun tuts, pouting. “Hey, don’t say that. Remember what we talked about? What you promised? Never truly leaving, as long as you give me something to hold on to.”
“You’ll be away for a year.”
Yeonjun shifts his position, scooting closer to Soobin so that their knees touch. He wraps his fingers around Soobin’s nape, bumping their foreheads together.
“Which only means that you better give me a lot to hold on to, Soob. Something that’ll last me an entire year.”
Soobin smiles and looks into Yeonjun’s eyes, where he sees the Yeonjun of today. Of yesterday, of the yesteryears, and of the tomorrows yet to come, all rolled into one.
“You’re right,” Soobin plants a soft peck on Yeonjun’s nose. “In fact, I’ll make them last you a whole lifetime.”