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Chanyeol’s heart pounds in his ears, beating in time with the rhythm of his boots as he runs. White dusts his hair as he breaks through the tree line and stumbles out onto the road. The box in his hand is almost unbearable to hold, the velvet frozen stiff by cold winds, but still he runs. The tarmac jars against his ankle, and he bites back a curse, blinking hard when a pair of headlights turn the corner, blinding him with their brilliance. He flings his arm up into the air and waves, desperate.
The car slows to a stop, and a dark-haired male in the driver’s seat peers out at him. Chanyeol blinks twice, hardly daring to believe his eyes.
“Junmyeon hyung?” he calls, staggering up the driver’s side window. The window winds down and it really is Junmyeon, staring out at him as if he has gone mad. Perhaps he has, has been driven mad by the wild winds that blew him here, but Chanyeol could care less. He grasps the edge of the car window, hissing through his teeth when the cold bites him.
“Chanyeol?” Junmyeon is equally stunned to see him. He unlocks the door and gestures for Chanyeol to hop in. “Yeollie, what are you doing here?”
“Running home,” Chanyeol answers, aware of how mad the answer is. He is in a thin sweatshirt, worn grey sweatpants that likely should not be worn outside his home, and the temperature outside is cold enough to cause frost to dance over the edges of Junmyeon’s car window. When he shivers, Junmyeon winds up the windows and cranks up the heat. Soft strains of a guitar play through the speakers and Chanyeol cranes his neck to hear the singer.
“Is that Yixing hyung?” he asks, slumping back in the chair. The dampness of the snow is slowly creeping back in, the parts of his shirt that were frozen melting in the heat of the car. “I haven’t seen him in forever.”
“We haven’t seen you either,” Junmyeon comments, and Chanyeol can only answer with a blithe smile. “Where have you been? And why are you…” His questions trail off as he gestures at Chanyeol with his chin, clearly wondering how the hell Chanyeol had ended up at the side of the road with nothing but a ring box in hand in the middle of December.
Chanyeol sighs, running a hand through his hair. The tips of his hair are coated with frost, turning to water, and dripping into his eyes. He blinks and sighs again, wiping the droplets off his face. It is all going as he remembers, like a script in a movie that he has watched a thousand times. Junmyeon’s face crinkles as he turns the heat up even more, flicking on the signal to turn right even though there are no vehicles behind him. He drives down the street, houses beginning to appear alongside them.
“Is Yixing hyung home?” he asks instead, avoiding the question. “Can you drop me off before heading home?”
“He is,” Junmyeon answers. “And no, I have ice cream in the back, it’ll melt. I’ll stop by home and then drop you off. You should come in, meet Yixing. It’s been too long.”
“Ah, hyung, I’m in a hurry,” Chanyeol says, trying to keep the desperation from his tone. “Please, I’ll even send you money.”
“Yixing will kill me if I let the ice cream melt,” Junmyeon says reasonably. “It’ll take five minutes, Yeol.”
“How about you just drop me off here?” Chanyeol asks, spying a taxi stand by the street. He jerks his chin and Junmyeon rolls his eyes, shaking his head. He drives right on by the clock that lines the stand and Chanyeol’s heart stutters.
“Always so impatient, Chanyeol ah. I promise I’ll be quick. Here, just wait in the car-.”
Chanyeol grabs his arm and yanks him back before he can open the car door. Junmyeon yelps and is immediately silenced when Chanyeol clamps a hand over his mouth, shaking his head. His eyes flick the door and his face fills with terror and confusion. Chanyeol wraps both arms around him and holds him still when he tries to reach for the car door, his plea muffled into Chanyeol’s chest. As swiftly as he can, Chanyeol tries to move them both beneath seats, but Junmyeon struggles. His shoulder strikes against the steering wheel and the horn beeps.
Chanyeol curses under his breath when muffled yells come from inside the house, and Junmyeon struggles to get free even harder. He bites down hard, and Chanyeol yelps, dropping his hand. Before he can stop him, Junmyeon is out of the car and sprinting towards the house. Chanyeol’s heart lurches. He already knows what will happen.
Junmyeon screams the moment his eyes fall upon the body lying on the threshold of his front door, and in the next second, his cry is cut short. The bullet tears through his chest like it is made of paper, and he crumples.
Chanyeol bites back his own cry, sliding back into the car. He slams the car into reverse and drives. A bullet shatters the window behind him, and he ducks by reflex, but there is no need. The bullet never hits him.
He keeps on driving, fumbling for Junmyeon’s phone that he had left behind on the seat. With shaking hands, he dials 112.
The car runs out of fuel about two blocks after Hongdae station, and he climbs out, his legs shaky. He leaves the phone on the seat and ducks into an alley when he sees a couple striding towards him. If he hides, perhaps he can stop it. If they never meet him, perhaps what should happen would never happen.
No such luck. A hand grabs his shoulder, and he spins, breath catching in his throat.
“Chanyeol.”
Chanyeol blinks and shakes his head.
“You must have the wrong person,” he says, smiling in what he hopes looks like confusion.
“Yeol, did you hit your head or something? You know us. Baek, should we take him to the hospital?”
Chanyeol shakes his head frantically, stepping away when the man tries to reach for him again. The snow is beginning to fall again, and if he remembers right, he only has seconds left. He bolts, darting behind the end of the alleyway before either man can catch him, but he makes a mistake. Chanyeol looks back, at Baekhyun chasing him down in his leather jacket, Jongdae following close behind. His heart lurches when Baekhyun slips and he runs, heart cracking when he hears a sickening thud and Jongdae’s scream. He does not need to see to know that Baekhyun has fallen, his head cracking against a well-placed rock. Blood drips down his face, staining his pale skin, and Jongdae’s hands.
Chanyeol pulls a phone out of his pocket and dials 119. He tosses it to the ground after the call has ended and runs, the winds freezing the tears streaming down his face. As he rounds the corner, he stumbles straight into a bicycle and nearly knocks it to the ground, chains rattling. His hip protests when he catches it, winded from his run. Chanyeol turns the bike pedal several times, blinking tears out of his eyes.
There had never been a bike here before. He was always out of luck, out of time. But this one- it looks like the one he had been riding, the one Sehun had been riding when-. Chanyeol does not finish the thought. He climbs into the seat, his hands shaking when he rests them on the handlebars. His heart flutters in his ribcage, like a hummingbird beating its wings, and something like hope rises out of the ashes.
Snow drifts down from the sky, clinging to his hair, his lashes as he cycles out onto the empty road. Streetlamps paint the ground orange, their long bodies stretching shadows across snowdrifts. Chanyeol follows the road towards the town square, his breath catching in his throat when he comes upon the fountain, the water still running even at the late hour. The bike screeches when he brakes, pulling it to a stop beside the fountain. Someone calls his name, and he looks up.
“Chanyeol hyung.” Jongin sits on the wooden bench nearby, all wrapped up in a bright red parka. Chanyeol cannot stand the sight of the colour, nor Jongin himself, with his sad, knowing smile. This has never happened before. The fountain has always been empty. What changed?
But he goes anyway, his feet bringing him to the bench. The metal sends a chill biting through his thighs, and Chanyeol clings to the sensation, his eyes drawn to the tiny brown puppy huddled up inside Jongin’s coat.
“You can pet him,” Jongin says, his eyes fixed somewhere else. “His name is Hunnie.”
Chanyeol flinches, but the puppy is whining, wriggling in Jongin’s grip, and he cannot not pet it. Its fur is soft and springy under his fingers, and warm, and the feeling brings to mind a memory of Sehun rolling on hardwood floor, Toben jumping all over him. Vivi watches nearby, content to observe and not participate. The image burns Chanyeol’s eyes and he blinks, dashing a hand across his face.
“Why are you here?” he asks instead. “You’re never here.”
Jongin shrugs, Hunnie’s pink tongue darting out to lick his fingers. He cradles the puppy against his chest, his eyes drifting to the big metal park clock. Chanyeol hates that thing. He has seen it so many times that the sight of it turns his stomach.
“It’s almost time,” Jongin says softly, as snowflakes begin to fall faster and faster, the second hand of the clock ticking. Chanyeol grits his teeth, hoping, praying as the sound of a bicycle chain clicking rings through the empty air.
A flash of blonde catches his eye, and he turns, breath catching when Sehun comes into view. A purple ribbon trails from the bouquet he holds in one hand, and his smile is the brightest thing Chanyeol has seen all day. Chanyeol stands before Jongin can stop him, breaking into a run.
For a moment, he thinks things might be different.
A car horn blares and Chanyeol jumps, the scream bubbling out of his throat. The car seems to melt out of the shadows, careening off the road and towards Sehun. Sehun cycles on, seemingly oblivious as the car barely misses him, smashing into the stone fountain. He looks behind him, and Chanyeol’s heart trips.
It missed.
Sehun raises his head and then Chanyeol sees it. A tiny patch of ice shimmers beneath the bike wheels. The bicycle slips and Sehun cries out as he falls. Chanyeol’s scream pierces the air when Sehun’s head thuds against the edge of the stone fountain. It splits open, staining the grey with crimson. A bicycle has never felt so heavy when Chanyeol throws it off Sehun’s prone body, the tears already streaming down his face. He cradles Sehun’s head in his hand, reaching into his pocket but he already knows.
Footsteps echo behind him and a hand rests heavily on his shoulder. Jongin stares back at him when Chanyeol raises his head, his puppy whimpering in the lining of his coat. He has the bouquet in his hand, the flowers still perfect and whole. Chanyeol sobs when he takes them, sinking to his knees. Sehun’s blood soaks into his jeans, staining his hands as he clutches the bouquet to his chest.
“Your love will go on,” Jongin says, and Chanyeol wonders how he can be so calm, when he has seen, when he knows what happens every time. “Because of him, it will go on.”
Chanyeol thinks of the ring box in his pocket and wonders how Jongin can be so sure. He has seen it happen so many times he can no longer count them, and the pain cuts him still. He does not know how he can move on, knowing he can still rewind time.
“Hyung.” Jongin’s eyes are impossibly sad as he tugs Chanyeol away from Sehun’s limp form. There should be sirens, screaming as he fights to give Sehun one last chance. But there is none. Chanyeol is hollowed out, empty as Jongin helps him into a bench, the puppy snuffling around inside his coat peeking its head out. “You’ve seen what happens when you try to change the past.”
Chanyeol thinks back to all the deaths, the gunshots, the dreadful thud of Baekhyun’s head striking the stone at just the right angle, and a sob shudders out of him. He does not need Jongin to tell him what Sehun would want. He knows what Sehun would want.
“It’s time, hyung,” Jongin whispers, and Chanyeol knows he is right. “It’s time.”
Chanyeol trembles as he digs the brooch out of his pocket, the velvet box with the ring tumbling out in its wake. He lets Jongin unfold his fingers from around the hourglass shape, replacing it with the ring box.
“Do you think–,” he starts before Jongin can start the hourglass. “I will see him again?”
Jongin’s smile is warm, reassuring as the hourglass brooch in his hand begins to glow.
“In another lifetime, I’m sure you will.”