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"How did you die?"
The voice is monotonous, but it startles Jimin nonetheless. That in itself is also surprising. He would have never thought one could still get scared in the afterlife. Afterlife? Is this what this is?
Jimin doesn't know, but he does know he's dead indeed.
Jeongguk, for his part, keeps staring at this stranger, about to walk away when met with no response nor interest, but as it is, there is nowhere else to go. Nothing else to do.
It's only the two of them in this great shapeless space.
Jimin realizes belatedly too, he’s been looking straight through this person for a while – a pretty young man who seemingly came out of thin air. He bows his head curtly. "Hello. Sorry. I don't know how I died actually. I can’t seem to remember. Sorry, are we...?" Dead for sure? What an odd thing to ask and even odder to not be shocked about. It's like –
Jimin knows he's dead and he's fine with it. It’s just that he’s utterly lost and confused.
Jeongguk sees his own struggles reflected in this stranger’s blank gaze. Neither of them know anything, do they? He sighs and desolately buries his hands into the pockets of his shorts. “I can’t seem to remember anything either. I…This is gonna sound insane, but I can’t even remember my own name. Or age. Or parents, or town, or a friend and pet, or anything. I don’t even remember buying this damn two-piece I’m wearing.”
Slowly, Jimin’s eyes trail down the guy’s body, taking in the said two-piece with vague recognition. “That’s the tie dye Louis Vuitton two-piece,” his mind supplies from god knows where. “And it’s fucking expensive. Are you rich? Is that it? Are you one of those hot shot actors? CEO’s son? You a CEO yourself? I mean – were, I guess. ” Complete word vomit; brain is practically leaking through his ears at this point.
Jeongguk blinks at him, for different reasons though. “Why can I remember a luxury brand name, but not my own?”
Jimin looks around in contemplation. Now that he mentioned it, he can’t remember his own name either, nor age, or parents, or town, or a friend and pet, or anything. “Perhaps it has something to do with identity. Our existence being completely erased. Is that a thing?”
“How should I know. I never died before.”
“Or maybe you did. Do you believe in reincarnation?”
Jeongguk huffs hair out of his eyes. “I’d know if I remembered.”
Jimin turns to fully face him. “Is there something you do remember? Like… more brand names. Or celebrity names. Maybe cities. We should remember cities right? You’re Korean.”
Jeongguk’s eyes slowly widen. It is dreadful how he did not know that until now. “You are… also Korean.”
“I am?”
“You are.”
Jimin makes a frustrated noise. “This is insane. How can we not remember what we are. Wait. Shit. I don’t – I have no idea what I look like,” he gasps, horrified as he slaps hands over his cheeks. “What do I look like?”
Just as shocked upon realization, Jeongguk mirrors him, hands feeling all over his face. “Holy fuck. I don’t remember either. What do I look like? Am I ugly? Be honest,” he pleads so miserably that Jimin has to briefly drop his own panic just to stare at this guy incredulously.
“You are fine,” Jimin blurts, meaning to sound more mocking and less appreciative, but it’s the truth really. He clears his throat awkwardly. “I mean, you’re not ugly. You’re… um, tall and fit. Pretty face that doesn’t go at all with what you have going on below the chin. You were probably a gym rat. Oh –“ Jimin tilts his head when he notices his hand. “And you have tattoos.”
Jaw slacked, but relieved nevertheless, Jeongguk’s eyes shoot down to his hand. It’s covered in tattoos indeed and he quickly folds up the sleeve of his apparently expensive jacket to see how far they go. “Shit.”
Jimin’s eyes follow the expanse of skin with a dry mouth. So maybe that’s one thing he knows about himself. He really likes tattoos. And fit boys. Oh, maybe he’s gay. “It keeps going on,” he states the obvious once Jeongguk runs out of fabric to fold.
“Yeah,” he exhales in disbelief. “These are neat. I just wish I knew what they meant.” He recognizes the tiger standing for his country, but that’s about it. The rest are lyrics, random objects, pretty flowers, and a dog. Huh. Maybe he had a dog.
“You know, those might be hints. Like here,” Jimin says tentatively, stepping just a bit closer so he can point at different tattoos. “There’s a pen and a musical note. Maybe you were an artist, perhaps a writer or musician or both. Those are waves, so you clearly have some connection to the sea or ocean. The clock – time, freedom, fear of dying, obviously bit you right in the ass. There’s a bull, so maybe, I don’t know, you were a fucking asshole.”
Jeongguk scoffs, pulling back his arm. “How does that make me an asshole?”
Jimin harmlessly shrugs. “It’s easy: gym, muscles, probably testosterone filled insta, bull that comes with some macho alpha vibes, therefore – asshole.”
Jeongguk stares at him blankly. “You’re very judgmental, you know that? But thanks for noticing the alpha vibes, I guess.”
“And you’re gross. Anyway, you also have a tiger lily, so it could be your birth flower.”
Something sparks behind Jeongguk’s eyes when he looks at the flower tattoo again. “September, huh?”
“Could be. Now do me.”
Jeongguk whips to him. “What?”
“Do me. As in, tell me what I look like.”
“Oh. Right. Well, hmm… ” Jeongguk takes his time to really analyze his features, because it’s hard to put into words what this guy looks like without breaking into poetry or something equally embarrassing.
“Well?” His face falls. “Am I really that… unpleasant? You don’t have to lie, it’s okay –“
Jeongguk laughs, a bit hysterical. “No, no. Sorry. It’s the opposite actually. You’re beautiful. You have really angelic features, but somehow you’re also sharp cut. Intimidating almost. I’ve never seen anyone like you before.”
Jimin blinks at a loss. He can’t believe he can still blush in the afterlife. “Wow. Thank you. Though in all honesty, I’m probably the only person you know right now.”
“That’s…. true. Still stands though.”
Jimin smiles politely. It’s weird. Everything is plain weird, especially near flirting with a dead stranger. What an odd afterlife.
“Oh, you also have a tattoo.” Jeongguk points to Jimin’s wrist, and when Jimin’s eyes inadvertently look down, that’s when he also notices what he’s wearing: a white sheer shirt and white pants. Well, that’s definitely an afterlife attire if he ever imagined one.
“It’s thirteen,” Jimin says dumbly.
“Your lucky number maybe?” Jeongguk snickers. “That’s very edgy of you.”
Jimin puffs his cheeks. “Shut up. I’m sure it was very important.”
Jeongguk puts his hands up. “Hey, I don’t judge. Unlike you,” he mumbles under his breath. “I probably know more than anyone else you can get tattooed any shit you want, meaningful or not.”
“Yeah,” Jimin trails off, frowning thoughtfully at the number as he rubs a thumb over it. “I just – it’s just. It does feel important. It sucks how I don’t remember. Fuck. Everything sucks. Why did we die?”
The statement is heavier than everything they’ve exchanged so far and it’s for the first time both of them are truly hit with the reality of things. They’re dead. They most likely had family and friends that are now mourning them.
Jeongguk feels heavy with the weight of it, but he finds it in himself to approach Jimin and rub an amicable hand down his shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. Or, it’s clearly not, but there’s nothing we can do about it now. If we died, I’m sure it was with good reason.”
Jimin snivels dryly. “That’s a really shitty thing to say. Not comforting at all. There’s never a good reason to die.”
Jeongguk would have probably barked something equally teasing back, but he can see this guy is really affected by it – and he’s right too – and Jeongguk has never been the one to be insensitive (he finds that now). Besides, he’s the same. He’s just better at hiding it. “I know. What I meant to say is that everything happens for a reason. Nothing in life is fair.”
Jimin nods, dismissing a helpless subject, eyes lost in the nothingness around them. “I just wonder how come we’re here together. It’s just the two of us. Do you think we knew each other before? Or maybe we died at the same time. Come to think of it, for how long have you been waiting before I came? You were already here when I… arrived. Right?”
Jeongguk takes a step back, resuming a friendly distance. “I’ve been here alone for a while actually, but you’re the first person I see too.”
“What’s a while? An hour, a day, a year?”
Jeongguk shakes his head with a twinge of uncertainty. “No? Definitely not a year. Just enough to get bored.”
Jimin scrutinizes him from head to toe. “Why do I feel like that’s five minutes tops for you. Probably the type to walk up the walls at red lights. Too much energy to sit still even when eating. Am I right? I am, aren’t I.”
Jeongguk wrinkles his nose. “And you’re probably the type to sleep all day and be late to everything.”
Jimin opens his mouth, vexed, but he soon finds it doesn’t bother him as much as it should. There is a very vague air of familiarity about that statement. Either way, he doesn’t address that. “You’re rude,” he remarks instead. “I’ve no idea how old I am, but you look young and I don’t feel young, so acknowledge me properly.”
Jeongguk scoffs. “Now that’s one way to set ground rules with no proof. You look young too, so bite me.”
Jimin glances at his own hands – the only visible part of him – and sees that indeed he has the smooth skin of a young person. He pinpoints Jeongguk with another scrutinizing glare. “Well you look early or mid-twenties. Maybe even a student. I don’t feel like a student.”
“You are not,” Jeongguk grits pridefully. “But you don’t look close to thirty either. Accept that we’re maybe the same age and go.”
Jimin’s eyebrows shoot up before promptly groaning. “Oh, fuck me. You’re a Gen Z. This is truly hell.”
Jeongguk is immediately defensive. “What’s wrong with being Gen Z?!”
Jimin rubs a hand down his face. “Memes,” he laments.
“Fuck you, Millennial.”
“Yah, now you really do have to address me properly –“
“Says who? There’s no one else here!”
“It’s basic respect, brat –“
“No, but seriously. Do honorifics even matter once we’re dead?”
Jimin clamps his lips shut. He truly doesn’t give a shit either. Not right now at any rate. “Fine. Where are we anyway? Because if my afterlife is one irrelevant chunk of infinite time and space of nothingness alongside you, then I’m pretty sure we’re looking at Satan’s love nest.”
“Love nest,” Jeongguk snorts. “No, but yeah –“
“Eloquent.”
“Fuck you. I don’t know more than you do.”
Of course he wouldn’t. Why was Jimin hoping for anything period. As he turns on his heel absorbing everything on sight, Jimin confirms to himself that he can’t pinpoint anything even remotely earthly familiar. If he were to describe this place they’re in, Jimin could only label it as infinite and colorless. That’s right. There is no color around them. No particular smell. They’re standing on something solid and that’s it. Nothing Jimin could define. But never mind that. Where are the stars? Jimin always wanted the whole cosmos at his feet when he died, because it was only fair. He called it the Universe’s Retribution for Killing Me.
But no. There’s nothing shiny in sight. Not if you don’t count this guy’s big eyes.
Jimin supposes he could settle for those tiny galaxies.
“We’re clearly dead,” Jimin concludes intelligently. “Are you religious? What do you believe in? I know you don’t remember anything, but maybe if we talk about it, we can juggle our memory. Think this might be purgatory?”
Jeongguk’s face is carefully blank. “If I’m spending my eternity with you, then it might just be.”
Take that back. Jimin will claw out those galaxies one by one. “Good one.”
“Thanks,” Jeongguk says, but quickly breaks the bratty façade and actually surprises Jimin when he apologizes. “Sorry. That was rude. I was only joking. I’m sure you’re very nice.”
“Clearly not that nice if the universe cancelled me.”
“Hey, this is not cancelling. This is upgrading. Universe called and it wants its angels back and all that jazz.”
Jimin tilts his head. “Did you just mix like two beliefs and one pick-up line, all the while including yourself?”
Jeongguk nods somberly. “I must have been a young prodigy or something.”
Jimin snorts and resumes his useless reckoning. “Yeah, some golden boy.”
Suddenly, Jeongguk makes a noise. A bit like he’s choking, a bit like he’s not breathing, and Jimin twists to him almost afraid he’ll die because he doesn’t know any fancy Heimlich maneuvers, but then he remembers the guy’s already dead and instantly relaxes. He settles on patting him on the back. “You good there, buddy?”
Jeongguk fist-pumps his own chest a few times and then shakes his head as if to clear out all mumbled jumbled thoughts. “Yeah. Sorry. Don’t know where that came from. Anyway, you suck, I suck, we’re dead. What now?”
What now is the million bucks question.
“Let’s just walk,” Jimin proposes. “It’s better than standing around doing nothing.”
Jeongguk doesn’t argue. “Lead the way.”
So that’s what they do.
For a while, they just walk.
Neither of them talk anymore and it’s comfortable silence if only because there is nothing to talk about to begin with. Gradually, they both find themselves sinking into a disheartening dejection the more it becomes clear they actually are facing an unknown stretch of nothing ahead of them. The scenery doesn’t change, nothing does.
Jimin thought they were joking when they said this is the eternity of suffering, but he drowns in misery with every passing minute of nothing happening. He feels it in his companion’s growing silence too.
Are they doomed like this for real? Because death was supposed to be way grander than just walking around with a stranger that’s not even completely terrible.
When it gets too much and Jimin feels like he’s going to suffocate on the non-air around them, he nudges the guy’s shoulder with his own, aiming to be playful, but ending up being entirely stiff. The other doesn’t comment on it either. “Do you want to play 20 questions? Maybe we can trigger our memories into remembering who we were.”
Jeongguk is grateful for the distraction. “Sure. You go first.”
“Lazy ass,” Jimin mumbles under his breath. “Alright. What’s your favorite food?”
Jeongguk smacks his lips a few times as if summoning ghost memories of his taste buds. “I feel like… everything?”
“Helpful. Your turn.”
“What did you do for a living?”
Jimin halts all movements in disbelief. “Are you serious? Are you just going to jump to big questions like that? Might as well ask me who I was.”
Jeongguk stops too, trying to not laugh in his face. “It was a worth a try.” And then, he takes a few seconds to give him an obvious once-over. “But you look fit too, so maybe you were really active. Maybe you were the alpha gym rat for all we know.”
“Not possible,” Jimin mutters, fighting off another blush.
Jeongguk points at him victoriously. “Hey, that’s progress! Not knowing something for sure.”
Jimin sighs. “Hell, I’m telling you.” He starts walking again. “Okay, let’s talk about the waves on your arm. What do big bodies of water ignite inside of you?”
“Oh, poetic, I like it.” But Jeongguk does make an effort to concentrate on that particular feeling. It’s with a pleasant shock that he finds it’s not that hard to talk about it. “The salty smell of sea,” he reveals to both his afterlife partner and himself. “Seagulls. Annoying flying rats, but comforting in their stupid croaking.”
Jimin slows down, something soothing tugging at his heart. He places a hand over it. It’s still now, but his chest is full. “Childhood,” he exhales out in one stunned breath. He looks at Jeongguk. “Childhood,” he repeats, louder, hope filling him up. “The beach. Waves crashing. Cold water over my feet. Annoying seagulls stealing my food.”
Jeongguk’s features soften. “Sunset. Sunrise. My mom shouting at me to not swim too far.”
Jimin feels like tearing up. “Bonfires.”
“A clear sky full of stars.”
Jimin desperately searches for more. “Ice cream. The ice cream vendor – I remember – ice cream.” That’s it, nothing more. He’s deflating again, but Jeongguk doesn’t give up.
“Wind. Harsh wind. Biting cold, but never going home.”
Jimin’s mind draws a blank, but he tries. He tries so hard. He searches Jeongguk’s eyes, buries himself into those deep ends like he has all the answers, and –
It would seem like he does.
Jimin reaches a hand out, but doesn’t touch him. He just hovers. “Warmth.” He swallows with difficulty. “I remember warmth.”
And that’s it.
The film breaks.
Jeongguk is just as regretful, but he doesn’t allow them to dwell on it. “Come on. Let’s keep moving.” He waits for Jimin to start following him and then they desolately fall back into step.
Jimin draws in a shuddery inhale, centering himself. “Okay. It’s your turn.”
Jeongguk doesn’t think for too long. “Your tattoo – thirteen – it makes me think of black cats and Halloween. What do you think about horror movies?”
Jimin smiles despite his state. What an endearing question. “I… “ He licks his lips in contemplation, allowing an unexpected wave of unknown fond memories wash over him. “I don’t have any thoughts on horror movies in particular, but I feel like I loved Halloween. Something about it… something about the costumes, the fanfare, the parties, the –“
“Nightmare before Christmas,” Jeongguk blurts out before his mind can even catch up. “Oh! Nightmare before Christmas!” he echoes in excited realization. “I think I liked that a lot. Did you as well?”
Jimin rubs over his chest, eyes blissfully lost in memories he doesn’t have, lips smiling for no reason. “I don’t remember.”
It doesn’t dwindle down Jeongguk’s happiness. “That’s okay. Hit me.”
“Music. What do you feel when you think about music?”
“Comfort,” Jeongguk answers promptly. “But I think that’s most of us. What do you think about dancing?”
“Freedom,” Jimin replies just as quickly. “But I also think that’s most of us.”
They fall into despondent silence once again.
“Uh… family,” Jimin settles on. “Do you feel like you had any siblings?”
Jeongguk snorts on autopilot. “No, but I feel like I was always annoyed.”
“So you did.”
“Did you?”
Jimin feels a surge of protectiveness flood his chest. He smiles in relief, but also in grief. “I think I might have been a big brother.”
Jeongguk feels for him. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not.”
“It has to be at some point. Pets, enlighten me. You have a dog tattooed on you. What do you think their name was?”
Jeongguk hasn’t got the slightest idea. “I don’t know, but I feel like I’m the type to name it something idiotic. Like Ramen.”
Loud laughter erupts out of nowhere from deep within Jimin.
“What’s so funny?” Jeongguk asks with an uncontrollable smile of his own. It’s just the mere sight of this dude’s eyes crinkling up in ridiculously endearing ways.
Jimin waves him off, looking like he’s down right straining himself to not fall over from laughter. “I don’t know. Fuck, I don’t know why I’m laughing so hard. It’s not even that funny, but something – something about – “
“Ramen?” Jeongguk supplies questionably knowingly.
“Yeah. Yeah, I don’t know why,” Jimin says defeatedly, wiping at invisible tears. “Must be that one lame joke.”
“Let’s have ramen?” Jeongguk also chuckles. “Yeah. Maybe it was some inside joke for you.”
“Maybe. Okay, go.”
Jeongguk is silent for a few moments. He knows what he wants to ask, but he figures it’s maybe too straight-forward and private. It shouldn’t matter though. They’re both here, alone and dead together. He clears his throat and looks somewhere else. “You don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to.”
“Okay.”
“Right. It’s a private question, so I don’t want to overstep, but… do you remember having a lover?”
And oh.
Immediate sadness clogs up Jimin’s throat, but fortunately, he finds it interesting rather than alarming, so he clings onto the feeling with urgency.
“I feel so incredibly sad,” Jimin confesses in a rush before the emotions can fade away.
“So there was someone,” Jeongguk comments patiently. “Heartbreak? Breaking up? Cheating? Family?”
Jimin diligently goes through all of those scenarios. Heartbreak? Yes. Breaking up? Vague, but no. Cheating? Definitely not. Family? No answer. “I suffer,” he confirms. “I suffered. There was a lot – a lot of pain. Unimaginable pain. Tears. I remember –“ Jimin swallows and it hurts. Shit, his head is dizzy too. His core – it’s like he figuratively came alive with the vivid feeling of it all. This might be – this is – it has to be. It’s the closest he got so far to feeling like his true self. “My eyes were sore,” he starts rambling. “I remember screaming until my throat was raw.”
“Damn,” Jeongguk says quietly.
“I remember screaming. Just a lot of screaming. I remember my chest caving in. I remember my heart being torn apart. It hurt. Everything hurt so badly. I remember arms around me. I remember clawing at them. Fleeing. Needing to run. I remember –“ Jimin’s eyes fill with tears and he welcomes them; welcomes the feeling of loss. “I remember dying.”
Jeongguk stops completely, facing Jimin carefully and cautiously. That’s a big deal, but Jeongguk doesn’t want to make it a big deal. “You… you remember how you died?”
However, Jimin resolutely shakes his head. “I don’t. But I remember my soul dying right before my body did. It was… “ An unexpected sob escapes him. “It was so horrendous.”
Jeongguk’s eyes dull. He doesn’t make a move to touch him, though every fiber of his intangible being urges him to. But he has an idea of what this might be and it’s not an easy thing. It’s fragile and they’re already dead, so that’s saying something. “Hey… I don’t want to overwhelm you, but maybe… Just maybe – don’t get me wrong – but maybe you… committed?” he whispers, afraid of his own assumptions. Afraid for him.
“Suicide?” Jimin prompts with not as much difficulty. “No,” he denies firmly. “I don’t think it was suicide.”
“Okay,” Jeongguk says under his breath. “That’s good.”
Suffocating demanding silence falls over them, but Jeongguk doesn’t know what else to say and Jimin is not in a good headspace any longer.
Still, Jeongguk tries. “It means that you lost your lover. That is the only certain thing. I think.”
Jimin is no less distraught, but the need to cry has somehow passed. He is just numb now, feeling empty as death should finally feel like. “Tell me,” he says instead. “If you don’t mind, tell me about your lover as well. If you had any.”
Jeongguk, once again, is surprised how answers come so easily to him when prompted. They keep walking and walking. “When I think of a lover, euphoria comes to mind. Just complete utter happiness, being complete and feeling fulfilled, loving and being loved.” He pauses. “I’m sorry.”
Jimin shakes his head weakly. “Nothing to be sorry for. I’m happy for you.” But then, reality comes crashing in again. “I’m sorry as well. They must be missing you so much.”
Jeongguk feels the first prickle behind his eyes. They’re stinging, tears waiting their turn to be shed. His heart, just like Jimin mentioned, feels like it’s being torn apart. “They must be. If they loved me as much as I loved them, they must be in a lot of pain. Fuck,” he says at last, miserable and put to the ground. “We really did go on to just fucking die. Why? Why do you think that is? We’re both clearly young. We’re both –“ And fuck, he’s crying. Life really isn’t one bit fair.
Jimin stops and reaches for his sleeve, wordlessly pulling him into him.
Jeongguk goes with no restrain, grateful for someone being there even in this damn afterlife. He’s coaxed into a strong chest, head cradled into a cold neck.
Jimin hugs him close, threading his fingers through the other’s hair in what he hopes is a comforting caress. “It sucks. God, does it truly suck. So we can cry, you know? I think we’ve earned all the right in this world to just bawl our eyes out.”
Jeongguk laughs wetly against his neck, but he wraps his arms even tighter around that slight waist. Because yeah, there is no room for shame or second thoughts here, and this person strangely feels more soothing than it should.
But neither of them think about it too hard. Jimin needs to cry, and Jeongguk is crying too, and who would have thought that breathing would come so harshly when you’re already dead?
So they can only stand there. In the middle of nothing, at the beginning of their deaths. Two strangers wrapped up in each other, sharing sorrows and the only affection they know as of now.
Jeongguk sniffles and rubs his forehead against the shoulder under him. “Thanks. I’m – It’s good to have you here. At least.”
Jimin sympathetically agrees. “Better not nothing. Are you feeling a bit better?”
Jeongguk straightens up, gathering his bearings. He wipes at his face – irrationally afraid he ruined his makeup like he ever remembered wearing any – and schools his expression into something brave. “No. I feel like shit and so do you. But I think this is our existence from now and on.”
Jimin doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t even smile at the irony of it all. He just nods and – surprising the both of them – impulsively takes Jeongguk’s hand between his and starts walking again on this interminable road. “Anyway. It’s your turn.”
Jeongguk goes along with it – with Jimin resuming their silly game and with Jimin holding on to his fingers for dear life – and laughs. He just laughs, because sometimes, all you can do is laugh. Even when the sadness will never go away.
“Favorite animal.”
“I feel like… felines. Yours is obvious. I’ll go. Favorite sauce.”
“Garlic is everyone’s go-to. Favorite artist.”
“I like mellow music.”
“Me too. I think. Alright, day or night?”
“Night.”
“Hey! Same. Dusk or dawn?”
“What are you? Stephenie Meyer? Sunset.”
“I like vampires sue me. Hey wait –“
Jimin points to him in unison. “New info!”
“New info just dropped,” Jeongguk hollers just as excited, and if he puts on a show just to make his companion laugh, then Jimin is just as grateful for it. “Okay. Favorite game.”
That’s a difficult one. Jimin really needs to think about that one. “Cars come to mind. Swords too. I feel like maybe – yeah, that’s it. I liked reading more.”
“What did you like reading?”
“It was my turn, but I’ll let it pass. I feel like… anything good.”
“Helpful,” Jeongguk parrots, squeezing Jimin’s fingers playfully. “But fair. I’ll go for two questions as well.”
“Oh no. I’m scared.”
“Don’t be. It can’t get worse than this.”
The thought of it both terrifies and soothes Jimin. “Do your worst then.”
And Jeongguk didn’t have any intentions to, but the teasing goads him on. “Favorite position in bed and how do you feel about swallowing? If you were asexual, I apologize.”
Jimin is promptly flung into another fit of full bodied laughter, complete with swats at Jeongguk’s shoulder and indignant noises. “Yah! That’s private!”
Jeongguk casually shrugs. “Nothing is private anymore. We’re both dead. Also, sex, whether you were into it or not, is a big part of our existential lives, so this is a good question.”
Jimin is still giggling until he’s almost out of breath. “No, no, okay. Fair. I think that’s a good question too, but it’s hard – it’s just hard right now to be that specific.”
Jeongguk swings their hands around like they’re not doing anything more than taking a stroll through a park. The image of it sends zaps down his spine too, but he ignores it completely. “Share what you can. I won’t mind.”
“Pervert,” Jimin points out airily, but he makes an effort to prod at his most intimate corners. “I like… intimacy.”
Jeongguk hums in understanding, coaxing him to go on.
“I see… a dark bedroom. Askew sheets. That warm body all over again. I feel… lips down my neck, sweet nothings whispered into my ear, my name, panting and whimpered out – I see – I see hands touching my waist, fingers pressing into my hip bones. Kisses on my lips again. So many kisses. So many ‘I love you’s.” Jimin’s cheeks heat up with warmth, but there is also a pleasant tingling behind his lower abdomen. “My body remembers being thoroughly loved. Always feeling full too, just like you said. I think we were really in love. The true kind. I think I loved him even when we did nothing. Even when we were just watching something on the TV. Even when –“ Jimin chases away a nightmare. “Even when he wasn’t there at all. I just loved him a lot. And yes, swallowing doesn’t sound repulsive.”
Jeongguk doesn’t know why it feels like he’s experiencing death all over again. He stops, pulls on Jimin’s hand to stop as well.
“Sorry. Was it too much?”
Jeongguk shakes his head slowly. “No, it’s just… everything that you just said – but you mentioned a ‘he’.”
It lingers between them as Jimin’s eyes slowly round. “He,” he words out carefully, like the term is precious to him. “He,” he reinforces. “I know it’s a he.”
Jeongguk is happy for him, if only, except, deep down, there is acrid disappointment rearing its ugly head, thoroughly uncalled for. “You know it’s a he. Congrats!”
Jimin immediately feels guilty. “But that’s good! It means we can truly remember if we think hard enough about it. Go on then. Think about your partner too.”
And Jeongguk is fully on board with that. He rummages through his blank mind thoroughly and what he comes up with is this: “I remember wanting to be responsible for their happiness. I remember wanting to give them everything in this world – the moon in the sky.”
“You were very romantic.”
“They used to say the same thing! But I was just – devoted. God, was I devoted for life.” A bittersweet smile settles on Jeongguk’s lips. “I truly wanted to give them everything. Myself, my heart, my life, the world. I think –“ He frowns suddenly, an amalgam of feelings crashing over him.
“You think what?”
Jeongguk blinks rapidly, like he can’t catch his breath. He looks Jimin straight in the eye. “I think I wanted to make them fully mine. But something – something just stopped.”
The sadness that Jimin felt comes back full force. “But what happened?”
Jeongguk is still staring at him. “Everything… just stopped.”
He shouldn’t, but Jimin does understand that.
Against all nature, somehow, Jimin completely understands what he means by that. He feels like sobbing his lungs out all over again.
It’s not something to be ignored or get glossed over.
No.
They can’t keep on playing this game any longer.
Jimin’s instincts have never failed him, so, still holding Jeongguk’s hand, he steps into his space, cupping his cheek with no restraint even when it doesn’t make much sense. But this man in front of him does.
“Tell me,” Jimin demands. “Tell me what your lover looked like. What they felt like.”
Like stars aligning, Jeongguk finds solace in Jimin’s palm. “They looked soft. They felt like home. They smelled like comfort. They were beautiful.” Tremors tinge his exhale. “They were the most beautiful person on that wretched earth. And I loved him so.”
Jimin’s eyes glint with tears. “Him.”
Jeongguk’s heart drops like led. His bones feel frail, his skin feels heavy. “He,” he confesses to Jimin. “It was a he, too.”
At this point, they still don’t know anything.
Their memories are still fog in the background, but everything they feel right now is purely driven by their souls.
And that is real when nothing else is.
Jimin says it first. “I think we knew each other.”
“In our past lives.”
Jimin nods, more scared than he’s ever been. “We were close.”
“I think we came from the same place too.”
Jimin nods again. “We knew each other for a long time.”
“Since we were kids.”
“Maybe. Maybe earlier, maybe later, but I know you. I always knew you.”
Jeongguk can’t stand it any longer either. He takes Jimin’s face between his palms and brings their foreheads together, his soul reaching for his, tangibly, visibly. “You were always there. Hyung. That’s it – hyung. You were always my hyung.”
“I took care of you,” Jimin voices outloud what his heart dictates. “You were my dongsaeng. I dotted on you. I hugged you so many times. I bought food for you.”
“Busan,” Jeongguk exhales in one breathless epiphany.
“Busan,” Jimin echoes just as overwhelmed. “The beach –“
“The shore –“
“The seagulls –“
“The waves. The ice cream. You were there.”
“I was there,” Jeongguk gasps, pain singeing behind his ribs when it all comes flooding back.
“You were there,” Jimin trails off, upset, “until you weren’t anymore. Seoul,” he paints a picture out of thin air, but Jeongguk remembers now.
“Seoul. Art. Music. I wanted – wanted to – fuck, I don’t know what I wanted to do, but I nearly lost you.”
“But you didn’t. I came after you. Dancing –“
“Dancing,” Jeongguk heaves out, eyes tightly scrunched together as he inhales Jimin’s scent. There is nothing there any longer, but his presence is enough. “You were a dancer. A damn good one. Everyone wanted you. But I wanted you more.”
“And you had me,” Jimin promises fiercely, aligning their bodies together, chest to chest, dead heart to dead heart. “You always had me,” he says in a lower voice, fingers brushing under his eyes. “We made it work.”
“We made it work,” Jeongguk confirms with relieved anguish. “We made it work so well. I loved you too much. I felt guilty every day of my life –“
Jimin shushes him. “We were back together. We made it work. We loved each other. Until –“
“Until –“
Jimin’s eyes snap open. An invisible knife slashes his chest open. “Until the happiest day of our lives happened.”
Jeongguk sobs. It all comes rushing back. He knows this person. He knows him better than he knows his own self. It’s his person and he could never comprehend how he could forget him even in death. “We proposed to each other on our anniversary,” he rasps out through tears. “We were supposed to get married.”
“Supposed to.” And that’s the final straw for Jimin. He can’t keep at bay his tears any longer. The ache in his throat comes back, the soreness of his red eyes too. “Your plane,” he wails. “It crashed. Your plane crashed on your back to Busan. Just before –“
Jeongguk tastes his own tears. “Just before our wedding. You were wearing all white. You sent me a picture. Just like you are right now.”
The grief swallows them both. Jimin buckles against Jeongguk, and so does Jeongguk. They hold on to each other, lips reaching for any skin they can find – Jeongguk’s against Jimin’s forehead, and Jimin’s against his neck.
“And I still don’t – I don’t remember your name.”
Jeongguk closes his eyes, more tears spilling. “I don’t remember your name either. But it’s okay. Names are not important right now.”
And how could they be, when Jimin remembers this heart, this body, this mind. This person in his arms – he belongs to him as much as Jimin is meant to be his, and if death was their end, then Jimin –
Jimin is not glad.
But he knows for sure he could have never lived a life without him anyway.
Belatedly, the answer to that unsaid question comes as well.
This is how Jimin died:
He remembers crying and screaming, he remembers clawing at someone’s arms – his father’s – to get away, to flee, to run, to get to his lover even when his lover was long dead.
Jimin remembers tears at the corners of his mouth as he geared up his car and sped off like a blind madman to the Busan St. Mary’s hospital.
Finally, Jimin remembers screeching tires, a collision, and metal impaling him. Iron mingling with salty tears. His white shirt – his wedding shirt – soaking with dark red blood.
Most of all, Jimin remembers how he wasn’t afraid.
No.
Jimin only felt relief. He never even tried to save himself.
Jimin welcomed death.
And he is glad, that his fiancée will never know that.
“I have missed you,” Jimin says at last, lips right above Jeongguk’s. “You’ve been gone from me for far too long. I’m so happy we’re here.”
The same calm hysteria engulfs Jeongguk. “I missed you. I missed you since forever. Will you stay with me now?”
Jimin feels like he’s slowly submerging underwater, deadly but equally peaceful. “I’ll stay with you forever. We can be together now, my love.”
Jeongguk nods and meets Jimin halfway when he kisses him.
I do.
It sings in their heads; it bounces around the non-existent walls around them.
I do. I do. I do.
It feels like their sentence, but neither have any care of it.
Not until a great light flares up from up above, slicing through thin air and blinding them completely.
They pull back from their embrace, panicked they will be broken apart once more.
But unfortunately, it’s exactly what ends up happening.
Both Jimin and Jeongguk feel invisible forces yanking at their bodies, pulling them away in opposite directions no matter how hard they try to keep holding on to each other.
They start crying again, wailing and begging to stay together, but nothing works.
The light is far more overpowering than two poor souls.
Right before Jimin gets sucked in by a celestial force, he looks at his lover one last time and his soul calls out to him.
“Jeongguk –“
And Jeongguk’s, as always, is a mirror of his.
“I love you – Please remember – Jimin –“
And then, they’re both gone.
Zapped into non-existence.
The Universe rewinds and takes it course again.
“Excuse me?”
The kid in front of him looks nervous. “Yes?”
Jimin nibbles on his bottom lip. “Sorry. I’m here for the new group. For BigHit. I’m Park Jimin.” He hovers uncertainty, also anxious out of his mind as he tries to gauge this person’s age. “Is this the right place? …Hyung?”
Jeongguk doesn’t know why his heart skips several beats as he listens to this stranger fumble over words, but he finds himself relaxing in his presence for unknown reasons. “It’s the right place. You can sit with me.” He almost gives in to the urge to let this person think they’re younger than him, but Jeongguk has always been too polite for his own good. “I’m Jeon Jeongguk,” he offers as the person takes a spot next to him. “You’re really short, but I still think you’re older than me. I’m fourteen.”
Jimin’s former polite façade vanishes in an instant. “Yah, are you serious. I’m your hyung, then. You better address me as such.”
Jeongguk swears he is not normally this rude, but this guy is just asking for it. Everything between them just seems to have a natural flow. “I would, if you were taller.”
“I’m seriously going to hit you.”
“I’ll tell on you.”
“Yeah, ‘cause you’re just a kid.”
“So what? You’re no better than me. From now and on, we’re in the same boat.”
And that’s true. Anyway, Jimin is way too antsy to be bickering with some preteen. That, and something else caught his attention. He leans back against the wall, playing up a cool air as he crosses his arms and looks up ahead. “So. You’re from Busan too, huh?”
Jeongguk’s eyes widen before quickly looking away. “So what? You’re from there too?”
“Yeah.”
“Cool.”
“Cool.”
Yet Jimin feels like he should be the mature one in this situation. “Home is far away right now.”
“It is.”
“Do you miss it?”
Jeongguk glances at him with a vulnerable glower. “I do.”
Jimin sighs. It can’t be helped. “Miss my family,” he offers as truce, because this kid sure as hell needs it. “Miss the sea too. Even those awful flying rats. Seagulls,” he expands.
And something in Jeongguk’s soul comes alight. It’s comfort. It’s familiarity as he turns towards the stranger. “Yeah. Also, the ice cream. There was this one –“
“Vendor,” Jimin fills in knowingly. “Really has you missing your lost childhood, doesn’t it?”
Jeongguk is so indescribably sad, but he finds refuge in this stranger as he moves closer to him against the wall. “If we make it, I’ll treat you to ice-cream,” he braves on quietly.
Jimin peers at him, surprised. “Yeah? You’ll treat hyung? Don’t worry about it. Let’s just worry about making it.”
“We will,” Jeongguk says with confidence he doesn’t recognize, but he knows it’s true. “We’ll make it, hyung. You’ll see. This time, we will make it.”
Jimin doesn’t understand the meaning of that, but somehow, he finds it true. So he can only nod in solidarity and rest his head back, willing his heartbeat to calm down and welcome the tumultuous waters that will follow.
Because here they are, two strangers standing fearfully at the beginning of an unknown road.
Real life starts as of now.