Chapter Text
Everyone has wondered what it’d be like to know everything in the world at least once in their life. Everyone has been curious to know what true omniscience feels like. To experience everything, all at once. Plenty of people have had lighthearted conversations over what they’d do if they had every power. It was a fun topic for friends to ponder over and never think too deeply about.
They had a question: How would it feel to experience everything?
Mingi had the answer: It was hell.
Mingi had wondered too, a very long time ago.
When he’d been 5, he thought it would be the best thing ever. Mingi had imagined himself being able to create anything and do anything, thinking up the randomest stuff; which was— but not exclusive to— creating a 100-story mansion, having an army of ducks, and making Willy Wonka’s factory real. Dumb shit like that.
Unlike every other person, he kept wishing for that power. He wholeheartedly believed he wouldn’t do anything to harm the world— no, he wanted to help fix it. Mingi’s mother had laughed heartily when he ran up to her with wide, sparkling eyes, expressing his greatest wish. She had ruffled his hair (an action that always caused Mingi to scrunch up his nose) with an amused smile.
“Mingi, don’t dream of that,” His mother had said as Mingi pouted.
“An ability is dangerous, and it can hurt a lot of people. You don’t want to hurt anyone, right?”
Mingi was silent for a moment, before shaking his head with a saddened expression.
“Good. How about you start thinking of what you want to be when you grow up, hm? Then you won’t have this silly dream anymore.”
Mingi had furrowed his brows, but he reluctantly gave in. He didn’t get why his mom was so against abilities— like a lot of other adults, actually. He thought abilities were super cool. The negative stigma surrounding them never ceased to make him confused. He heard about how most people with them hid it, and that they were a generally taboo topic to talk about casually.
When he’d been 10, he understood.
Mingi always kept this memory of this day close to his heart. He thought of it as the last day he could love— the last moments before he changed for the worst and experienced what hell was really like. It wasn’t scathing hot, nor did it feel like being forced into immeasurable pain for eternity. It felt cold, like there was nothing that even mattered. It was a cruel, apathetic state— and that was, arguably, even worse than what he thought hell would feel like.
On the final day, Mingi had been at an aquarium with his mother. He had experienced a little in life, at this point. His father had been taken from him by death a couple years prior and he didn’t do the best in school. But, he still had his friends and his mother, albeit her work often took away Mingi’s time with her. All in all, Mingi could comfortably say he was happy.
So, of course, the universe had to curse him.
The final day was the last time Mingi saw beauty. The fish were pretty. Mingi didn’t know any flowery, poetic words to describe them. Their fins flowed like pleasant silk and their movements were captivating. He was entranced, pressing his hands against the cool glass of the tank and staring with wide eyes filled with wonder. Blue light illuminating the creatures danced on the fishes’ scales, giving them an otherworldly glow. He could’ve stood there for hours on end, watching those beautiful fish.
He didn’t want to blink. He didn’t want to take his eyes away, not even for a minute. But he did anyway, out of instinct. He didn’t even notice he blinked, but he did notice his change in surroundings. He was in… a bunker, maybe? And there was a desolate field outside the window with fire burning in the distance. He blinked again, and he was in a large, grand theater, a place that Mingi could never be able to afford to be in. He blinked and he was in a church this time. And a space auditorium. And an airplane cockpit. And a stage. And an infinite amount of other places, all at once.
Mingi’s senses were flooded with trillions of different experiences, emotions, and memories. It felt like someone had taken a dagger and stabbed Mingi through his head— no, the pain was worse than that. Colors and blurry faces danced across his vision, each one blending into each other. Everytime he blinked, it tripled. He felt like each world was clawing at his attention, grabbing at his brain until he was torn apart.
That wasn’t even the only thing. His ears hurt more than anything else. They pounded, feeling like they’d been bursted a thousand times over. Mingi could hear everything— from the raunchiest groans, to the screeches of shoes squeaking against the gym floor, cries of a son at his father’s funeral, and the god awful noise of an orchestra tuning their instruments. Each noise felt like a stab to his ear, another attack to his eardrums. Sure, there were some pleasant sounds, but the loudest, most egregious noises overwhelmed him.
A plethora of emotions— from anger to grief to joy to pain— exploded in Mingi’s chest. While he felt uncontrollable joy, he also felt the worst agony of any lifetime. Like any other child (or person for that matter), Mingi did the only thing he could while being overstimulated to hell and back: he screamed.
Guttural screeches roared from his throat as he clawed at his head, trying to rip out his hair in frustration. Though his eyes were blown wide, his gaze was unfocused. Mingi couldn’t tell what was going on. He didn’t register the people around him stepping back in shock, too stunned to do anything but stand idly as his mother rushed to his side, pulling him tight to her chest. Even as he cried from sheer anguish and stained his mother’s shirt, Mingi didn’t notice his mother hugging him and trying anything she could to comfort him.
Mingi didn’t slip out of consciousness— at least, not fully. He sifted through worlds, trying to make sense of himself. As he was placed in a cold hospital bed with a methodically beeping heart monitor attached to him, he watched millions upon millions of worlds. He was experiencing everything, being everywhere across the multiverse, all at once. He was everything— from the tamest of humans, to a star as old as time, to the lengthiest reddit post. It took him a few days (going by the time in his world) to even remember who he was.
After Mingi realized who he was, he slowly started to take in the other worlds he experienced. He learned to split his attention and tune out all the unnecessary or boring universes that fought for even a fraction of his attention. Mingi stuck to the worlds that were closest to his own, experiencing years of life in mere seconds. One of them that particularly stood out to him was where he had his dad, an enjoyable and manageable ability, and a great life with barely any worries. When he’d closed his eyes and opened them in another world, his heart felt heavy. Then, there was one where his dad had been killed in front of him, and he watched as foreign faces creeped up to him with a sinister glint shining in their eyes (Mingi had quickly tuned that reality out). For every joyous moment he experienced, an infinitely worse one came and left Mingi’s heart in ruins.
And throughout all this pain, suffering, and endless possibilities Mingi reached a revelation.
Nothing mattered.
In the grand scheme of things, nothing mattered.
Why do such dumb things when it didn’t matter? Ultimately, nothing anyone did would change anything. Everyone in the world was just small and stupid, living in a nonsensical world that made them feel like even smaller pieces of shit. There was no meaning to anything, so why pursue ambition or any passions? Really, why pursue anything ? There was no point nor purpose.
So, Mingi shut off his emotions, keeping them in a tightly shut vault buried deep in his chest to never touch again, because, really, what good did they do? He accepted his irrelevance, knowing that he was just one in a billion, a mere smudge on the canvas of the multiverse. He would rather be apathetic and alone than face the world— or worlds , in his case.
When Mingi had opened his eyes in his original world a month after he gained his ability, he was greeted by the bright, fluorescent light of a hospital room. He stared up, not really feeling like doing anything— and wasn’t that a feeling he’d have to contend with for the rest of his lifetime. The nurse on standby noticed that her patient had woken up and hurriedly went to grab Mingi’s mother.
His mother had burst into the room, throwing Mingi into her arms and sobbing incoherently, muttering worthless things like “— oh, Mingi, my sweet boy—“ and “— I’m so happy you’re here, baby—“.
Mingi wasn’t really there though. The version of himself that his mother loved was gone, replaced by a far more jaded, apathetic one. Even as his mother hugged him with such relief, Mingi couldn’t bring himself to feel anything for her.
Mingi didn’t go back to school; he didn’t need to study when he could just get an innate, deep understanding of any concept school would throw at him from another world.
Mingi didn’t see his friends; they were worthless to him now. No one could understand him and no one could help him. Mingi was self aware; he knew he was a pain to deal with. Not that he really cared, but plenty of people did take offense to his new personality.
So, Mingi grew up, going six years in his world without feeling anything for anyone. He stayed in his room mostly, scrolling mindlessly on his phone or laying in silence. Well, not exactly pure silence, but the closest he could get to it without exhausting himself trying to tune out every other world. He rotted in his bed, never giving his mother the time of day, as he drowned in the cold embrace of apathy.
His mother had learned that her son was wildly different from before that fateful moment. She left food out for him sometimes. Usually, Mingi would go a week or two without even seeing a glimpse of his mother. She rarely spoke to him nowadays; a complete opposite of her attitude in the beginning. She had done her best to coax Mingi out of his solitude, but all her attempts were futile. Eventually, she couldn’t stand to see her shallow husk of a son.
(Once, when Mingi had the energy to grab a drink, he had heard her crying while he passed her room. His mother had been sobbing in front of an old photograph of their family— back when Mingi’s dad was still in the picture, and when Mingi wasn’t heartless.
“How did I manage to lose both of you? How did I manage to lose my son even though he’s still here?” She had asked, though she knew no one would offer her a response.
Mingi had stood at the doorway for a moment, feeling a flicker of emotion flare in his chest with a conflicted expression before he ultimately extinguished it. Experiencing emotion was dangerous; it got people killed, caused pain, and hurt in more ways than one.
Sometimes, he really hated the world.)
It really wasn’t a surprise when Mingi’s mother had appeared in the doorway of his room, looking away at him as she told him to pack his bags. As he passed by her with headphones over his ears and a packed suitcase, he saw her face. A somber expression coated her face, her gaze facing away and head tilted in the tiniest hint of shame. They didn’t need to exchange words to know why she had given him up.
And now Mingi’s here, at his new boarding school. The facility was gated, with a large sign above the entryway reading “ KQ Boarding School ” with smaller text underneath adding “ for troubled teens and ability users ”. Mingi had no doubt that his mother found this place on the first page of google.
There were no students rushing about to get to school on time; Mingi had arrived later than when school started. The creaking of the sign from a vicious gust of wind was the only sound that accompanied him. He didn’t really want to go in; despite believing nothing ultimately mattered and having a highly apathetic nature, he could still be annoyed. Plus, his ability was acting up and he had more realities to deal with than usual. Other than that, the thing that annoyed him most was being put out of his comfort by having his daily routine changed.
Granted, Mingi’s routine was basically just bedrotting before, but he was still annoyed. High school was just going to be a big change of pace— not a good one, that’s for sure. And Mingi hated change.
“Excuse me,'' a deep, unknown voice said. Mingi turned, surprised, to see that someone had managed to sneak up on him (though, with his attention being split between tons of realities, his non perceptive nature was excusable). The boy in question had a sharp and defined face, not unlike a baroque sculpture, with a white rose brooch clasped onto his tailored suit. He smiled politely at Mingi, though the action didn’t quite reach his eyes. Mingi had seen enough bullshit across the multiverse to know when someone was genuine and when someone was just feigning positivity. Who even was this kid?
“You’re the new student, I presume?”
Ah, so he was straight to the point. Not that bad, in Mingi’s humble opinion. He disliked people who talked too much and filled their conversations with inconsequential, unnecessary small talk. There was no place in life for useless crap.
“Yeah. And who are you?”
The boy smirked, holding up his pointer finger to his lips, imitating a ‘shushing’ gesture, in amusement.
“Ask the birds! Or don’t. You’ll find out soon enough.”
Mingi didn’t want to bother wasting his time searching for an alternate reality where he knew this weird ass boy just to get his name. The cryptic boy giggled (for what reason, Mingi didn’t know), and handed Mingi an orange packet with a doodle of some cartoon scribbled on it.
As he took it, a loud screech and ear piercing explosions bursted Mingi’s eardrums from a different universe. Mingi’s eye twitched from discomfort, though it seemed that the strange boy didn’t pick up on it. Auditory pain was always the worst for him, which is why he really fucking hated his ability. The strange boy’s gaze had settled on Mingi, an indiscernible expression masking him, when a wide smile broke out on his face.
“You’re interesting! Anyways, head to room 208, second floor. That’s your classroom. See you around, Song Mingi.”
The boy said before walking away, his footsteps silent. Mingi looked down at the packet, and before he could register the boy’s words, he was gone. Mingi looked back at where the boy once was. He didn’t catch what he said at all since he was distracted with being waterboarded in some other universe.
At least the little character doodled on the packet had a speech bubble with the information on it.
With a migraine and a low expectation for the shithole he was about to enter, Mingi finally went into the school. The students who were lingering in the halls fell silent at Mingi’s entrance, staring at him like they were picking him apart in a vivisection. Mingi felt slightly uncomfortable, considering that this is the first time he’s gone out in years, but he simply ignored their stares. They whispered inconspicuously amongst each other, but Mingi still heard fragments of their sentences.
“—he’s so freakishly tall—“
“Honestly? I’d hit.”
“wasn’t he part of that incident a few years back..?”
Mingi ignored it all and walked forward. He should’ve gotten his noise canceling headphones; it would’ve made this school a little more bearable. He didn’t want to hear the incessant chattering of students. God, he could only imagine what would happen when the students got over the novelty of a new student and went back to their usual routine. Mingi really hoped kids weren’t as loud as they were portrayed to be in the Korean dramas he had occasionally watched.
Whatever. It doesn’t matter. It’s not like it means anything to him anyways.
Mingi walked up a staircase, ignoring the dirty glares of the girls who stood at the base of it, pausing when something caught his eye. The girls themselves were uninteresting, but the artwork splattered beside them on the wall grabbed his attention. He hadn’t noticed it earlier because of all the students who were crowded in the halls, but graffiti dominated the walls of the school. Obscene drawings and explicit language made up most of the imagery on the walls, but there was a recurring image that seemed to be drawn everywhere. It was largest at the base of the stairs, being plastered on the wall by the two girls. Mingi examined the artwork for a minute, noting how it depicted a dove with a rose brooch with a sun behind it. The words on the bottom spelt “ TOKEN OF PEACE ” in big, bold letters.
Token of Peace. Where had he heard that before?
Mingi turned away with a sigh, shoving his hands in his jacket’s pockets and walking up the stairs. He could contemplate this later; for now, he just wanted to find his class so he could find the easiest way to skip it.
Mingi walked through the hallway looking for his class. His dress shoes (mandatory by school dress code) tapped lightly against the concrete floor, creating a nice rhythm. The simple tapping was nice; having something to ground himself with made the pain of experiencing everything a little more bearable.
Now, where was his class?
206… 207… Ah, there. 208.
Mingi roughly shoved the door open, though he might’ve done it too aggressively judging by the loud thud that came from it. Every head in the classroom snapped towards Mingi— except for the teacher, who slept soundly at his desk. Although literally everyone was glaring at Mingi, only two kids seemed relevant to him: the pink haired guy with a piercing glare and obvious dis, and the shorty with a plethora of accessories and a very odd style.
The taller one was obviously some gangster, if the way he dressed or the slicked back hair was anything to go by (though his bubblegum pink hair was a bit of a contrast from his otherwise serious style). The shorter one looked more casual than the rest, yet a million times more chaotic. His clothing was personalized to the point where Mingi doubted he went to the school for a short second and his clothes had an ungodly amount of pins, stitches, and other trinkets. He leaned back on the desks that were pushed together in a giant amalgamation while he fanned himself, keeping his gaze locked on Mingi. The rest of the kids were sitting around those two (excluding a few smaller groups who stood apart from each other), practically fawning over the two boys. Clearly, those two kids were hot shit in this school— which meant that those were two people he’d have to avoid.
Mingi felt a lot like a fish out of water at this moment. Everyone clearly had their cliques and they seemed very apprehensive towards outsiders. Mingi didn’t give a shit about their social hierarchy though— as long as they stayed out of his business, he wouldn’t be too annoyed.
Mingi shot a nasty glare back at the students before entering the classroom, closing the door roughly again— which caused another loud thud. He sat at the seat in the middle of the room, the one that read “ Song Mingi ” in hangul on the card placed on it. Mingi leaned back in his seat, rubbing his temple. His migraine had only gotten worse since meeting that mysterious boy. Now, his head was pounding like fucking crazy and he just wanted to bash his skull into the nearest wall— it was nothing new for him though. Mingi knew how to deal with his issues, he just… had to wait it out.
He fucking hated waiting it out.
He had scrunched his eyes closed as he massaged his head when something poked him. Reluctantly, Mingi opened his eyes only to see the shorty grinning down at him mischievously and his tall guard dog wearing the exact opposite expression. Mingi’s headache instantly got a thousand times worse at the sight of annoyances. Fuck, couldn’t he get some peace and quiet? He’d been there for less than 10 minutes, and people were already trying to socially interact with him (this was the exact reason why he hated going outside).
“Hello there… Song Mingi, is it?”
Shorty phrased it like a question, but he acted like he already knew the answer. What kind of question was that anyway, there’s literally a card with his name written on it right in front of them. Shorty’s voice also sounded kind of like a chipmunk with how high it was. Maybe Mingi should mentally call him chipmunk instead of shorty…
“It is. I checked through the principal’s documents, in case you were wondering,” the kid said with a relaxed, casual tone of voice.
What the fuck. This kid was a weirdo too? Who the hell even went through the principal’s office to obtain information that was already available in plain sight? No, fuck that, was getting into the principal’s office even normal? For a high class man (such as what shorty seemed to be) it was plausible, but Mingi didn’t have a clue. He had been out of school for too long— it was a little embarrassing that he knew so little about it. Maybe Mingi could jump to a version of himself that actually went to a normal school later and catch up on the art of socialization.
“I wasn’t,” Mingi responded,”what do you even want?”
Shorty giggled, as he snapped his fan open in a singular motion— quite impressive, really.
“You haven’t joined any clubs, yeah? Consider joining the Calligraphy club: Our protection is absolute and the skills you gain from our guidance will prove to be valuable throughout your life and career. ”
He sounded like a marketable business slogan that only functioned as a way to get people to buy their product in the last part. The kid didn’t even try to sound genuine, which was another strange thing to add to the list of strange things about this school. Judging by shorty’s demeanor and the way other students seemed to bend to his words, Mingi was willing to bet that this guy was the Calligraphy Club’s president. And, if the way the guard dog hovered over shorty constantly was any sign, the tall pink kid was likely the vice president. What Mingi didn’t get is why they’d try to recruit a person who literally justenrolled. Mingi hadn’t even been there for longer than a day, so what were these people trying to play at?
The pink one put a bandaged hand (damaged from a fight, perhaps?) on shorty’s shoulder and pulled him back, leaning forward to whisper into his ear. Not once did his stone cold expression break. Unlike his guard dog, shorty didn’t hold back on speaking loudly.
“Ah. Right. Well, it’s not like we can tell him. I’m just giving him the option now, he’ll learn it’s worth later.”
“I’m right here, you know.”
Mingi muttered, annoyed that they were trying to hide something from him. Yeah, he could just go to a world where this event has already played out, but what good would that do? Mingi didn’t care enough for any of this to truly affect him. He only really used his ability when things were serious anyway— searching through the multiverse is incredibly difficult, believe it or not.
“Yeah, yeah, we didn’t forget about you,” the pink one grumbled in a deep, gruffy voice. The smaller one giggled, holding his fan up to cover his smile ever so slightly.
“Just think about our offer. It’ll come in handy down the line.”
What a vague statement. Mingi looked at them weirdly as the two walked away, bickering with one another. Shit, was this how the rest of the clubs were going to be with him? His head hurt just thinking about how annoying that would be. Mingi laid his head down on the table in an attempt to get some semblance of peace. He tuned out the chatter of high school students, the gunshots from a battlefield, and countless other noises as he sat in his seat. With everything else out of the way, one thing weighed on his mind: how the fuck was he going to survive here?