Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

If you were to ask someone what they would do when in their least favorite place, most of the time, they wouldn’t say sit down and stare into the distance. Normal people may even become nervous or begin to pace back and forth. But Jisoo’s never been considered normal before, so why should he be now?

That isn’t completely true, though. Jisoo was normal when he was born, and he was normal before he turned eighteen, which is something, at least. Some people are never given the chance to be normal, and he should be grateful.

But isn’t he the same as them, two sides of the same coin? Only his defect was a secret, and its emergence came about with Jisoo’s first memory. Nonetheless, it had always been there, dormant and lurking around each corner. Disregarding that would be wrong, so to say that Jisoo was completely normal once wouldn’t be true either.

As he stares at the cream walls of the treatment center, though, Jisoo wishes it was.

Crescent marks are embedded into his palms from the constant pressure of his nails, bright red and angry. He must’ve been here for eons already, his consultant running behind.

For a moment, Jisoo considers leaving. But he couldn’t do that to Wonwoo, his therapist, could he? He’s only ever been nice to Jisoo, and he doesn’t deserve to be left alone here. As if he could read Jisoo’s mind, Wonwoo glances up at him from his seat on one of the plastic chairs across the room.

The man is dressed to the nines, dark brown hair pushed back to expose his forehead. Round glasses are perched upon his nose, thin frames encircling his eyes. Jisoo doesn’t understand why he insists on being so formal. They’re only here to argue about his mental state, nothing that commands formality. They do this each year, and it’s never anything special.

Then, the door opens, and in saunters Doctor Kim, Jisoo’s soulmate consultant. He closes the door behind him before turning toward them. Wonwoo stands to bow in greeting, and he encourages Jisoo to do the same.

“Good morning Jisoo, how’re things going?” he says, and the question must be rhetorical because he turns to Wonwoo afterward. “Doctor Jeon, lovely to see you. How’d the vacation go? Oh, nevermind, we can chat later.”

Jisoo hums, not daring to glance at his consultant. He wouldn’t be able to meet his eyes anyways because they’re trained on Wonwoo. Jisoo almost laughs at the man, pouting when his desperate gaze isn’t returned. Soon enough, Doctor Kim clears his throat and taps his pen against the stack of papers that he’s holding.

“I presume there’s already an appointment being made for the bloodwork portion,” Doctor Kim mumbles to himself. Jisoo nods even though he isn’t spared a glance. These must be the same questions from the past couple of times. “Does anyone in your immediate family have a medical history of misremembering?”

“No. Other than my second cousin, it’s just me.”

“Okay, thank you, Jisoo,” Doctor Kim says before sending him an encouraging smile. “SMR evaluations are divided into two separate sections: oral and written. You will be asked a series of questions relating to your misremembering. Your answers for both are being recorded. Are there any questions?”

Jisoo shakes his head, glancing at Wonwoo. “No questions,” the man answers for him.

“Great. That being said, the oral portion begins now,” he announces. “You’re a teacher, right, Jisoo? Does misremembrance have a negative impact on your profession, or other aspects of your life?”

“No, there are no negative impacts on any aspects,” Jisoo says. The sound of the consultant’s pen scratching the paper underneath it permeates through the room. Wonwoo hums, glancing at his notes.

“That’s good. And you aren’t experiencing anxiety around your misremembering, symptoms of which could present as problems sleeping or changes in appetite?”

“I have trouble sleeping sometimes.” Jisoo begins fidgeting with his fingers, the skin around his cuticles becoming sore. He hates this question. “But, that could be because of other things.”

“What other things?”

“I’m not comfortable answering that.”

Doctor Kim sends him another smile. “We’re almost done, this is our last question. Has your misremembering ever impacted your ability to think clearly?”

“Yes, immediately after I receive a memory. Other than that, not particularly.”

“Okay, the oral section of the SMR evaluation has concluded,” Doctor Kim moves some papers around. “The next section is the written questionnaire. Don’t be nervous, Jisoo, you’ll do fine. Your therapist and I will both remain in the room until the paper is completed. Questions?”

Jisoo motions for the papers, not giving him a response. He scans over the questions, and frustration begins festering inside of him. They’re the same ones that he’s answered time and time again, of course. Expecting them to change would be absurd.

When someone lends Jisoo a pen, he rushes to complete the questions. His answers to them are quite simple, but he doubts that Doctor Kim expects him to expand upon them. Almost four minutes later, he hands the evaluation back to him. The man seems surprised at the speed, but he says nothing, choosing to plaster a kind smile on his face instead.

“Thank you, Jisoo,” he says. “There’s one more thing we should go over before you leave. It should be fast.” He moves the papers in his hands aside and sorts through them, taking two pamphlets from the stack. Turning around, he hands one to Wonwoo and the other to him. “Have you given the surgery another thought since our last consultation?”

“No, I haven’t,” Jisoo mumbles, fingers twisting together. “I have already decided that I don’t want it, and I don’t plan on changing my mind.” He could probably hear Wonwoo’s exhausted sigh if he focused hard enough. Had he expected Jisoo to agree? Surely not, as he’s refused this surgery since he was diagnosed. Wonwoo knows this, knows Jisoo.

Doctor Kim, though, hums to himself. He must’ve expected this, too. “That’s okay,” he tries to reassure them. “We must discuss this incase you change your mind. I understand that you won’t, but I am required to inform you again.” To his credit, he seems genuine enough.

Jisoo spares a glance at the bolded words toward the pamphlet’s top. In scratchy, youthful text, it says ‘The Soulmate Surgery’, clearly intended for someone younger than him. Not many people continue to deny such an operation for this long, he supposes.

He doesn’t bother opening the packet, instead staring at the framed paintings on the walls. They mustn’t seem interesting to the others, though, because the pamphlet is thrusted in his face again. He should be paying attention, but Jisoo could practically recite the words in his sleep. There’s no need for him to.

“As you already know,” Doctor Kim begins, “the Soulmate Redemption Surgery is intended for those who misremember certain events pertaining to their memories.” Then, he becomes quiet, scanning Jisoo’s bored face. “Those such as yourself.”

And that hurts him, not because of the bluntness, but because it’s true. From the moment Jisoo had his first memory, he became nothing more than a misremember-er in the eyes of society. No longer was he regarded as normal, former class president Jisoo. He had merely become an inside joke in the minds of his peers, and he absolutely hated it.

“The SRS is able to mend instances of misremembering,” he continues despite Jisoo’s inattention, “and it’s proposed to help improve other parts of your memory.” Both men steal glances at him from time to time, presumably to reassure him. “In this context, misremembering may be defined as the inability to remember certain aspects of a memory after it happens.”

“You don’t have to read the entire thing,” Jisoo mumbles, and he reaches for his temples. This is already giving him a headache. “I’ve heard it several times before. Besides, I could read over everything later, when I’m home.”

Someone sighs and the sound bounces around the room. It pounds against his forehead from the inside. He should’ve made an excuse to postpone the evaluation instead of coming. Jisoo must look miserable, and the glances that Doctor Kim and Wonwoo share over his head just about confirm it.

“I can’t do that, Jisoo.”

Spots dance in his peripherals, and his eyes become watery from the movement. “I should leave.” Jisoo means it as a statement, and the abrupt tone surprises the others. Doctor Kim steps toward him, perhaps to steady him, but he hesitates, one hand extended in front of him. Then, he steps back and turns to Wonwoo.

“Please sit down,” the therapist says. “You seem pale.”

“For the moment, I am done with this.” Jisoo rises from his seat and starts to pace. “I understand that you’re being made to conduct these evaluations, but they’re worse for my mental state than my misremembering. Could you stop them, please?” His temples throb in agreement, and the sound of his heartbeat echoes inside of them.

“I’m afraid not,” someone says, and the sound seems distorted. Whose voice is that? Everything around him is slower than he is, and the room spins. “Treatment would stop immediately if we could do that, but we cannot.”

There’s a moment’s pause, and Jisoo places his palm to his forehead. The quiet soon becomes crushing as the other men stare at him. He should respond, but he doesn’t.

“Can you hear me, Jisoo?”

A noise escapes his throat, somewhat comparable to a groan. He needs to leave this room. Someone moves closer to him, their figure almost smudged because of his clouded vision. A hand is extended in his direction, and Jisoo uses it to ground himself. What’s happening to him?

He sways on his feet and remains standing for a couple of seconds more. Then his eyes close, and he’s sent into a memory.

Clouds are spread throughout the expanse of blue above him. Bugs hum as they move around him, and he bats one away from his shoulder. Insects are most prominent during this time of the year, much to his dismay.

There’s a harsh sensation against his arms, the planks of wood underneath him scratching him as he pushes himself up. In front of him, there’s a large pond that reflects the remnants of evening sunshine into his eyes. Sand stretches across the shore, some becoming mud as the water touches it.

He glances to the side, using a raised arm to combat the intense shimmer of the pond’s surface. There’s a man perched on the sand, a book clasped in his hands.

Jisoo slumps onto the pier and rubs the crust from the corners of his eyes. The muscles in his arms ache as exhaustion seeps into them. This must be the price for accompanying his soulmate to the farm a couple of days ago.

He turns in Jeonghan’s direction again, studying his features. Curls of blonde hair frame his face, one tucked behind his ear. He seems peaceful, immersed in the story that he’s started reading.

“Oh, my love,” he says. Jeonghan’s head snaps up at the sound, and the page caught under his thumb rustles in response. “Come here, would you? You’re so far away.”

Jeonghan folds the corner of a page over and closes the book. In a minute, it drops beside Jisoo’s head as his soulmate sits near him. He moves, reaching out to brush a hand through Jeonghan’s curls.

“You seem tired,” Jeonghan mumbles. Slender fingers brush against Jisoo’s forehead as he speaks; they pause to rub circles around his temples. “You can rest more if you want.”

“I am, to be honest, but I would rather spend time with you.” Jisoo glances up, eyes tracing the underside of the man’s chin. Jeonghan is gorgeous from every angle.

The man huffs, and the breath caresses Jisoo’s neck. “Stop saying such things.” Jeonghan punches his bicep. Blush has risen to the apples of his cheeks, and his eyes dart around nervously. Jisoo grins. He brushes a bead of sweat from his forehead, hand knocking against Jeonghan’s.

“You love when I say those things,” Jisoo says, much to his soulmate’s chagrin.

“Love is a strong word, dear.”

Jisoo hums, pressing his face into Jeonghan’s thighs. He mumbles, “you adore it, then. Perhaps you even yearn for my sayings.”

“Stop that,” Jeonghan laughs. “I do not.”

“I refuse. What are you going to do?” Jisoo says, and a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. The reactions that his soulmate has makes teasing him more fun.

Jeonghan glares at him, a grimace distorting his features. He seems to pause to consider the question. “I would push you into the pond.”

“Is that so? I don’t imagine you could,” Jisoo says.

“You best watch me, then.” Jeonghan brushes a clump of hair from his forehead before he stands. He saunters to the edge of the pier and almost stumbles. Then, he tugs on Jisoo’s legs.

“Oh,” Jisoo hums, a mocking tone present in his voice. He moves his legs further from the pond, the wood scratching them again as he props himself up on his elbows. “Do you seriously think you’re going to push me in that easily?”

Jeonghan pouts as his face reddens. “I can’t do anything unless you stand. You’re completely flat against the ground.”

Jisoo suppresses a fond laugh. “Fine, help me up.” He extends a hand toward Jeonghan. “Do your absolute worst, my love.”

Jeonghan grins and struts over to Jisoo. He grasps his hand, and Jisoo begins to regret teasing him so much. “I’m already planning to.”

Instead of helping him stand, Jeonghan yanks their hands back. Jisoo stumbles for a second, using Jeonghan’s shoulders to balance himself. They stand precariously near the end of the structure, the water remaining undisturbed beneath them.

“I almost thought you were going to push me in,” Jisoo says. His heart is pounding from the sudden movement. Jeonghan can certainly be scary when he wants to be.

“I am.” There’s a pleasant beam on his soulmate’s face as he declares this, a sense of accomplishment coming over him.

Jisoo doesn’t have much time to respond before he plunges under the surface of the pond. He pushes himself up again and inhales once he’s able to.

The murky water around him reflects his expression, eyes wide and mouth hanging open in disbelief. He turns his head toward Jeonghan and finds him laughing on the pier. The sunshine on the surface is almost blinding.

“You absolute menace,” Jisoo says, but there’s no real malice in his words. He lunges at the pier, hand resting on the ledge. The tips of his fingers barely touch Jeonghan’s toes as he reaches for him.

Jeonghan squirms away from him, kicking at his hand. Jisoo takes a deep breath, feigning exhaustion. He slumps onto the pier.

“Fine,” Jisoo says. “Could you help me up?”

Jeonghan scrunches his nose. He hums under his breath and moves toward Jisoo. Their foreheads touch as Jeonghan leans over, and a drop of water from Jisoo’s hair lands on Jeonghan’s nose bridge.

“And, my dear, give me a reason that I should trust you,” Jeonghan mumbles. “Surely you’re just going to drag me into the pond.” His hands grasp the planks beneath him.

“I would have had you in here already,” Jisoo says, “had that been my goal. Come on.” His legs tread the water underneath him.

Jeonghan sighs, breath warming the minimal space between them. He pushes Jisoo further back and dips his legs into the water. Jeonghan grabs one of his soulmate’s hands and tugs, but before he can drag Jisoo out, there’s a large splash as he lands in the pond.

Jeonghan gasps as he brushes the clear drops from his face. He darts over to Jisoo and wraps his legs around his waist. Though the movement is sudden, Jisoo merely laughs, hands finding purchase on Jeonghan’s thighs.

“Jisoo, are you serious?” Jeonghan’s closed fist comes into contact with his shoulder as he curses. His face is crimson.

“My love,” Jisoo says. He runs one finger over a wrinkle on Jeonghan’s forehead. The evening sunshine burns his eyes, but his focus is on Jeonghan. “You weren’t the one pushed under the surface, at least.”

Jeonghan’s features morph into a state of confusion, then understanding. “Please, dear, don’t do that,” he says, and his voice wavers. “I promise you, if you–”

“You promise me what, baby?” Jisoo hums, aiming for a tone of nonchalance.

“I won’t speak to you anymore,” Jeonghan says. His arms are crossed over his chest, a pout forming. Jeonghan’s eyes seem to challenge him, almost daring him to drop him into the pond.

There’s a sound near his ear, almost the same as that of mosquitoes. Jisoo glances at the water with disinterest and then back at his soulmate. Jisoo’s certain that Jeonghan wouldn’t not speak to him, but these moments make him want to test it.

Drops of water cascade down Jisoo’s chest from his drenched hair, leaving trails of wetness on his skin. He smirks at Jeonghan and considers his next course of action. “You would, wouldn't you?”

Jeonghan seems to pause, the corners of his mouth downturned. His eyes, the same ones that Jisoo often finds himself lost in, squint at him.

“Please, dearest, spare me.” Jeonghan digs his fingers into his arms. The ache reminds Jisoo of the man’s intense strength; he must admit that makes him somewhat nervous, especially once he remembers that his soulmate is the one person that could defeat him in a demonstration of strength.

“My sincerest apologies, my love.”

Jisoo drops his arms and leaves Jeonghan to thrash around in the water for a moment. The legs that were around his waist disappear under the surface of the pond as Jeonghan resurfaces. His mouth opens and closes a couple of times in pure surprise.

“Hong Jisoo,” Jeonghan says, “you are dead.” He launches himself at his soulmate once more. Splashes of water pelt them as Jeonghan shoves him. The evening sun paints their skin a golden color.

Jisoo grabs Jeonghan’s arms and spins him around. Jeonghan squirms but soon stops moving as he stares at Jisoo.

Someone’s hand–his or Jeonghan’s, they’re so close that Jisoo can barely discern them–reaches between them and pushes Jisoo’s hair away from his face. Warm breaths fan his nose as Jeonghan leans forward. Jisoo laughs.

“You’re cute,” Jisoo says as he presses a kiss to Jeonghan’s cheek. Jeonghan hums, fingers becoming tangled in the strands of hair on Jisoo’s neck. Jisoo lets his head be pulled back when Jeonghan tugs on them.

“Thanks,” Jeonghan murmurs. “You aren’t so bad yourself.”

More drops of water return to the lake as Jeonghan moves closer to him. His plump lips meet the shell of Jisoo’s ear as Jeonghan pushes himself up. Jisoo shivers as he breathes out a laugh.

“You smell like pond water,” Jeonghan says, landing a gentle bite on Jisoo’s earlobe. Jeonghan’s hair tickles his nose as he pulls him against his chest.

“That tends to happen when someone shoves you into a pond,” Jisoo hums. Though he aims for a teasing tone, one of sarcasm leaks through.

“Oh, hush,” Jeonghan laughs. “You gave me no choice but to take drastic measures.”

“Sure, my love.” Jisoo scoops Jeonghan up in his arms, pressing his drenched body against that of his soulmate. “We should get you back onto the pier, hm?”

Jisoo carries Jeonghan to the large pier. Water splashes around them as Jisoo wades through it. Jeonghan pulls himself up onto the splintered wood. He sits on the edge with a tired sigh and moves over to make room for Jisoo.

Jisoo places his palms on the pier and pushes himself up next to Jeonghan, whose feet remain in the water.

“I could use a tan,” Jeonghan says. Jisoo hums and turns his head toward his soulmate. His eyes catch on the water drops that cascade down his neck. The sun beats down on them, and Jisoo smiles. He reaches over to run his fingers along Jeonghan’s cheek.

“You’re so pretty.” Jisoo says it as a statement, something he’s so absolutely sure of, and Jeonghan blushes. He moves toward Jisoo, face pointed downward to hide the crimson on his cheeks. Jisoo sees it anyway.

“That was sudden,” Jeonghan says. Jisoo hums and lets his eyes close.

“Just thought I should let you know.”

The space becomes quiet, save for the sound of birds around them. Jisoo focuses on his breathing, counting each time he inhales. He glances toward the other, and the exhaustion from earlier is present again.

Jisoo is used to this now, the fading of his consciousness as a memory comes to an end. He can almost feel someone, maybe something, pull him away. Jisoo’s vision blurs, and his grip on Jeonghan’s waist tightens one last time.

Sounds force themselves out of his mouth as he resurfaces, and short breaths echo around his chest. The constant noise creates a simple tune, and it soon calms him. He glances around, and the cream interior seems to welcome him back.

Jisoo must’ve been moved to another room because the pictures that once decorated the walls are gone. So are his doctor and therapist, he assumes. It’s hard to say when his sense of direction is jumbled and his eyes are clouded.

The uncomfortable bed creaks underneath him as he moves, and the sound makes him grimace. He wishes he could remain in the memory and hold his soulmate in his arms again. His soulmate, nicknamed ‘my love’ because when you can’t remember names from memories, you have to improvise.

He wonders if somewhere, somehow, the other man doesn’t want a soulmate as much as Jisoo does. On second thought, he takes that back. He doesn’t not want a soulmate, but the memories give him peace. When he can’t put a name to the face, things seem less daunting. To say he doesn’t want a soulmate at some point, though, wouldn’t be true.

Saying that he doesn’t mind being here, at the treatment center, also wouldn’t be true. Jisoo’s been inside of this wretched place for hours, and he just wants to get home and feed his cat. She’s probably mad at him already. Should he go tell someone that he needs to leave because he has a (extremely pampered) cat to tend to? She’s going to scratch his furniture as revenge, and Jisoo doesn’t want to give her any more reasons to.

Just as he’s readying himself to speak to someone, the door is pushed open. Wonwoo hums under his breath as he steps inside, a stack of papers resting in his hands. He seems tired, shoulders hunched and dark circles under his eyes. Jisoo thinks that he must look the same.

Wonwoo closes the door behind him before he turns around, and he plasters a grin on his face upon seeing Jisoo. He moves toward him, taking a seat beside him.

“Hello again, Jisoo,” the man hums. “We’re going over your evaluation results in the consultation room. Are you doing alright?”

Jisoo sighs through his nose, and he smiles in return. “Yeah, the memory was nice.”

“Oh, that’s good. I’m glad.” The sound of papers rustling against one another consumes his senses. The entire room seems loud, and the constant hum of electronics almost makes his ears ring. “Is there anything you need?”

“I’m fine, but I want to leave soon.” That makes Wonwoo laugh. He sends Jisoo a glance that seems to say ‘you and me both’.

“We must discuss your results before you leave.” The man seems genuinely apologetic. “Most of your responses are the same as previous ones, so this should be fast.”

Jisoo sends him a pleased nod. One thing that he loves about Wonwoo is his candor. He refuses to repeat the same information that Jisoo has heard hundreds of times and doesn’t beat around the bush. Jisoo waits for him to continue.

“So, when you completed the ‘Relationships’ section of the evaluation, one of your responses seemed strange.” He turns the page over. “To the question ‘Describe misremembering in relation to your present romantic relationships’, you said ‘I don’t want a soulmate.’ Are you comfortable elaborating on that?”

Jisoo closes his eyes and sighs. He should have put ‘no relation’, as usual, but he forgot that descriptive answers lead to discussions. He learned that during his second evaluation.

“There’s no reason in particular,” he says. “I just don’t want one because there’s a big chance of never encountering mine.” Jisoo tries avoiding eye contact, and he hopes the other man understands that he’s not ready to discuss this more. He does.

“Got it. I’ll speak to Doctor Kim about this.” He sends Jisoo another smile. “You may leave.” Wonwoo takes some papers and turns around, sauntering out of the room. The door closes behind him.

Jisoo breathes, and his shoulders ease for a moment. The strap of his bag hurts his hands when he grabs it, but he doesn’t care. He wants to leave, and nothing is going to distract him from that.

The sound of footsteps echoes around the treatment center as he rushes outside. Some of the other doctors nod at him, and there’s so many people here that his heart starts to pound. He almost runs to the front doors when he sees them, desperate for freedom from this place.

Papers crushed in his hands, Jisoo opens the car. Clouds hang overhead, and the ground outside smells like rain. Harsh winds smack him in the face. He should probably get inside before a storm starts.

When the door closes behind him, his hands lurch for the center console. Out comes a journal, the one he uses to record his memories, permanently binding them to the pages inside. He settles for an empty page, and soon enough, the pen is gliding on the paper.

Jisoo writes synopses of his memories after they happen, just as his old therapist had suggested almost immediately after he turned eighteen.

“Sometimes those who misremember,” she had said, “have trouble when trying to recall memories after they occur.” She took a short drink of her water. “Memory Amnesia. You could write your memories down. It strengthens your memory and may decrease the chances of you having it.”

“Is there a chance of remembering my soulmate’s name, then?” Jisoo had asked her. Her eyes softened as she stared at him.

“I suppose there could be.”

Even at eighteen, Jisoo had known that was only to give him hope. Once someone misremembers something, there’s almost no chance of remembering it.

Some people do. Medical procedures have been especially successful in recovering lost memories, but those are expensive and often have other impacts on the person. Those who find their soulmate, though it’s nearly impossible, have been rumored to remember, too.

But it’s rare for soulmates who misremember to find each other, and even rarer for someone who misremembers to have a ‘perfect’ soulmate.

Jisoo hums to himself and punctuates the last sentence. He stares at the completed pages, at the series of words strung together on them. He’s done, and the memory is cemented into the journal.

He leans back and glances toward the storm clouds above. There’s a comfort to them, but there’s a danger to them, too. Most people are scared of them, the dampened clouds and darkened skies, but there’s beauty in the chaos of storms.

They remind him of his soulmate, and Jisoo tears his eyes away from the clouds.

“Please don’t let me find you just yet.”