Archive of Our Own ^beta

💫

On the day the end of the world arrives, the sky turns a haunting shade of rusted orange. 

A shaking hue with doom written in the clouds. It’s a slow seep, like a gradual, insidious leak, and then it bursts, invading all at once. Jungwon drops the kickstand after completing three rounds of the basic circuit, propping his motorcycle at an angle, removes his helmet, and inhales Doom’s Day.

There is sulfur in the air. Toxic enough to have adverse effects of breathing into the lungs in large quantities. Smoke flows in tendrils from the ground up. It must be chaos outside the confines of the track. A wry smile hooks along his lips—people were given time, to weed out their regrets, splurge the money that would cease to exist along with them, to live.

Acceptance is a whole other concept.

Exactly one week ago, scientists announced that Planet Earth had approximately one week left before facing a sudden course of extinction. He remembers seeing the headline after exiting the shower, toweling his hair dry as steam rolled off his skin. In one split second, the entire trajectory of his life had come to a full stop.

He searched it immediately after. Supernovas were said to be the most violent death of a star — the bigger the size, the larger the impact. Somewhere a few light years away, NASA had come across unusual activity years ago, sending their devices over to bring back more information. 

Now, they were standing at the precipice, only a week left before everything hit, the bigger sun in Kepler-47 on the verge of universal destruction. 

The week had gone on for Jungwon like any other. The first thing he did, like any sane civilian, was pack a bag of essentials in his shitty Hongdae studio apartment. Travel documents, qualifications, licenses, snacks, a few sets of clothes, toiletries. Everywhere he went, it followed under the seat of his motorcycle. The lingering feeling of the end hadn’t particularly dampened his spirits, but it left Jungwon mourning a life that could’ve been, would’ve been, should’ve been.

So, he makes the most of fulfilling the first category — to live out experiences to minimize his regrets before the end credits roll.

His day starts early. 4 a.m. to be precise.

Every single day, he has raced imaginary opponents on the track half an hour out of Seoul. Not a single soul has come in all week, even the staff, so he has the entire place to himself for the mornings. 

After the adrenaline rush runs out, he refuels and heads to the Han River, makes two packs of self-service ramyeon, and relaxes along the banks. Time is limited, yet Jungwon feels like he hasn’t ever had more of it. When he’s done slurping all the contents of his paper bowl, he reaches for a sketch pad and his charcoals. Allows his fingers tinge gray with the chalky texture indenting into his fingerprints. 

Muscle memory kicks in. His knuckles curl enough to recall the familiar facial structure. The jewels dotting along his ears. The placement of all the moles; under his eye, under his lip, along his jaw and cheeks. Thick eyebrows, the sweetest shake of lips seared into his brain. The softness of his eyes, the baked chocolatey warmth held behind those lashes. His favorite chains, how they coil around his neck like medals.

Sometimes, Jungwon wonders how he is. If he’s doing well. If he’s eating well. If he lived a life he’s proud of. If, at some point of all of this, he remembered Jungwon like how Jungwon has constantly been thinking about him.

Throughout the week, Jungwon fills the pages of his sketch pad with memories. It’s enough. 

When his afternoon session at the Han River is done, Jungwon spends the evening driving around. No one bothers going into work anymore, most opting to spend the remaining time with their families. He did visit for the first two days, said his goodbyes. Left before it got harder for him to step out the door.

At night, he scours ransacked local stores for any trace of alcohol and mumbles about small mercies when a random bottle or two is found rolling around. He isn’t a complete demon, though. Looting is never an option despite the end of the world, so he leans a few thousand won to cover the soju and treks back to his pathetic apartment, evening spent throwing back liquid until his chest burns vengefully.

A rinse and repeat cycle, like his washing machine heart, surviving the day with no hope for the next.

Yet, the days pass without any event, until the sky turns orange.

The first thing Jungwon does is text his parents.

I love you. Thank you for everything. 

Leaning against his motorcycle, he thinks about how society crumbled in the last few days, survival being the crucial part for some, an inconvenience for others. In a state of mind like this, he finds himself neutral. Suddenly, the government and the world’s 1% revealed an underground labyrinth meant to support life for at least one hundred years. Only the rich and important had been transferring down under.

Hence, Jungwon doesn’t care. He didn’t even bat an eyelid to the random contests they were holding, ripping off Charlie and the Chocolate Factory in a slightly more distorted, dystopian version, offering golden tickets to people picked at random from frantic applications.

“How annoying,” He sighs, eyeing the skyline. 

Yesterday, it had been the palest, powdery blue. Clean, exquisite. A sight he will never experience again. He should’ve appreciated it more in the moment. 

Still, the end of the world arriving doesn’t mean he’s going to disrupt his schedule. In five minutes, he’ll roll back into the city to the riverside for his spicy ramyeon. 

But, before he can stick his head back into the helmet, his phone buzzes.

riki ❤️‍🩹

so, today is the last day, it seems 

(read 09:14)

apparently so

i’m surprised we still have network

(read 09:14)

well, i’m thankful

jungwon

you already know what i’m going to say

(read 09:14)

riki-yah

do you really want to do this?

(read 09:15)

you promised, hyung.

(read 09:15)

Jungwon sighs.

He had, hadn’t he?

They had been young and drunk when Jungwon made that promise, sealing it with crossed pinkies between their chests in the middle of a kiss — the most divine entrapment of them all. 

But, he makes a point. Jungwon promised this to Riki.

Even if they’re broken-up, a promise is a promise. 

Maybe suns are meant to love boys destined to turn back into stardust. 

riki ❤️‍🩹

are you even in seoul?

(read 09:16)

i flew back on the last flight

(read 09:16)

you did

why did you…

fine

han river

the usual ramyeon shop

i’ll see you there in thirty minutes

(read 09:16)

i’ll see you there ❤️

(read 09:16)

Pocketing his phone, Jungwon swallows, trembling fingers adjust the helmet straps under his chin. He looks at the circuit one last time and takes every last detail in like a sponge.

He’s going to miss this place.

In fact, for the first time since the news dropped, Jungwon finally thinks he might miss living.

💫

Four years ago, Jungwon had fallen in love with a boy.

When he had met him, it felt like fate knitted their names together. The feeling had been unlike any other, a swell in his chest, all the gentleness in the world that Jungwon did not know he deserved. Of everything safe, of everything secure, of everything beautiful.

And, it was wonderful, the way stars danced in his eyes, smiles playing the strings on his heart like a violin. Love bloomed like a garden of flowers in the height of spring, with roots firmly in place. He’d tended it, watered the soil carefully, and trimmed the dead leaves to allow further growth.

And, it was soft. Tender touches and forehead kisses, hands held over the gearstick and stolen pecks at the red light. Jungwon’s favorite ice cream always stocked in the freezer, hands on his hips whenever he brushed his teeth, dusting water off the clothes with giggles erupting from his lips. It was good, pure. The kind of love Jungwon had wished for on every birthday. 

And, it was tragic, to watch how time eroded into the sandcastle they created, razing it to the ground. How comfort transforms into complacency, and is returned to the original state of you and me. The final nail in the coffin had been when the boy he loved chose to return home for a job, and Jungwon did not have the leeway to follow, to make it work.

One year ago, Yang Jungwon had broken up with his boyfriend, Nishimura Riki, moved out of their shared apartment, and learnt how to continue without the ghost of regret forming a shadow around him.

It had been the worst experience of his life.

But, that was just one point.

Life had to go on.

And, for three hundred and sixty five days, it did.

Until the end had finally reached their shores.

💫

As expected, the Han River is as still as paper, quiet and unbothered, when the engine on his motorcycle powers down. 

The network has officially been cut-off, the last two messages from his parents bringing a well of tears to his eyes before he blinks them back. Maybe, when time runs out, he will go through his gallery to console his heart. 

“Spice makes your stomach hurt,” is the first thing he hears. “Are you sure you can handle that?”

Spice doesn’t hurt as much as hearing the voice he once loved—perhaps, still loves with more than anything else in his heart—for the first time in a whole year. Perhaps, if the circumstances were different, Jungwon would have whipped his head around as a welcome, eyes growing saucer-wide to drink Riki in.

Today, however, he does no such thing. 

“Might as well,” He responds, stirring the broth. “If I’m gonna die anyway, what’s the point of being safe?”

“Give me a bite.” 

An arm presses into his. Tricep outlines slot into each other. There’s a cheek molding over the tip of his shoulder. How heartbreakingly bittersweet. A foot hooks around his ankle. It doesn’t take much for Jungwon to crumble, but with most of the fight yanked out of his system, there is little to be done to chase Riki away. 

Instead, wooden chopsticks holding a bite of noodles are brought up to where Riki’s mouth presumably is. He can hear the way his teeth cut into them, how he slowly chews and swallows. So close to Jungwon’s ear it almost nestles into the core of his bones.

“I’m not sharing anymore,” Jungwon warns him. “The store is right there. Make your own.”

“That’s terribly mean of you when I’m saving you from spending your last day sitting on the toilet,” Riki jokes, extracting the cardboard bowl from Jungwon’s quivering hands. 

Without warning, he dips his head closer, bringing his thumb up to the corner of Jungwon’s mouth. The pulp of it grazes his skin, rough calluses to velveteen expanses. One sharp inhale squashes his lungs from the center out. His nostrils burn with sulfur. Riki draws back, bringing thumb to lips, licking the remnants of the spilled ramyeon from Jungwon away.

He doesn’t even ask when he steals Jungwon’s lunch. Stupidly, foolishly, Jungwon lets him, like he has always done.

“What do you usually do?” asks Riki. “What would you like to do? Who knows how many hours we have left?”

They’re doing this. They are actually going to pretend there was no break-up. Jungwon is being made ignore the fact that he almost lost his job because he was so heartsick over Riki leaving him, how he laid dormant for weeks on end before becoming functional again.

“Normally, I—I would, at this time, drive around the city until sunset,” He confesses, crossing his ankles around Riki’s foot, locking him in. Then, he motions to the motorcycle with a flick of his eyes.

“You got your license,” Riki smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Congratulations, hyung. Proud of you.”

“Yeah,” Jungwon exhales. This is so hard. “Got it six months ago. In the mornings, I’d race along the circuits outside Seoul. No one else has been going there since… Well, y’know. Doomsday was announced and all.”

“Wow,” Riki perks up, mouth filled, cheeks rouged and round. “That’s cool! You’ve been racing! Take me, I wanna see you race.”

“We can’t just…” Jungwon closes his eyes, the heels of his palms pressing into shut lids. “This—we broke up, how are you so good at forgetting that part?”

How was Riki about to compartmentalize and approach their situation so easily? He is struggling, heart tattered and cords snapped. 

Fuck, Jungwon doesn’t even know if he’s hallucinating Riki to make his final hours a little better, somewhat bearable.

Grass rustles under their feet. At his side, Riki stirs, turning his body to face Jungwon. “Right now,” He begins, slow, cautious. The way one tends to an injured animal. So damningly tender that it feels like one wrong move would cause it to turn feral. Still, he brushes Jungwon’s helmet hair behind his ear, endeared by how spikey it is. 

“You’re mine. I’m yours,” Riki continues. “You promised me. It’s not compartmentalizing. I had to come see you. I was here six days ago, hyung. I’ve been waiting.”

“We’re going to die,” Jungwon deadpans. “It was a romantic thought, but we’re literally going to die, Nishimura Riki.”

Ruination collapses every part of his body barely keeping itself afloat when Riki’s smile grows into the prettiest view Jungwon has seen in the last week. Amid the broken glass and abandoned walls, Riki’s content smile thaws the ice formed around his emotions like a shield. It melts, pools.

Cupping his fingers under Jungwon’s jaw, Riki leans in, circling his thumbs under the dark eye rings on Jungwon’s face. 

“You’re not going to die,” He promises. “My company was raffling tickets to the labyrinth. I won. You’re going to survive, hyung.”

Jungwon flinches, pushing him away immediately. 

“Quit it,” hisses Jungwon. “Stop messing around. If you won tickets, use it for your family. Not your fucking ex-boyfriend, Riki.”

“My parents didn’t want it,” Riki speaks solemnly. “Neither did my sisters. I… I asked them, hyung. Of course I did.”

Suddenly, his face rings similar to the kid who had walked into the office on his first day, lost beyond words could measure. The one who had tugged on Jungwon’s kindness, and buried himself into the deepest recesses of Jungwon’s chest.

If it could, Jungwon imagines this is the part where the sky would turn black. Rain would pour in sheets and soak them, bone-deep. He would thank every celestial being still willing to listen for his sketchbook being in his back, safely under his motorcycle seat. And, because of how deep the water would rise, Jungwon would reach over to imprint his hand on Riki’s wrist, and scream. No one would hear. Hardly anyone ever hears when someone is drowning.

Unlike Jungwon’s vivid imagination, no such thing happens. The sky is orange, and the world is burning. Solar flares strike across the horizon, fires raging at random. The Earth is set to be scorched. They had a few hours, give or take, and they were giving their last hours to each other.

“Are we really surviving?” Jungwon swallows, thick, congested. He grabs Riki’s arm, watery eyes meeting in the middle. “Riki-yah, are we… Do we really have a shot at this?”

God, there is nothing Jungwon hates more than seeing Riki cry. Thinned lips, pinched eyes. Tears rolling down his cheeks. Frail lines are blotted over. Jungwon takes a moment to count every mole inked under his skin. He runs his fingers over the tears, collecting them gently.

“Baby, don’t cry,” says Jungwon. 

“You’re going to survive this, Jungwon hyung,” Riki confirms, cupping his hands over the hands the elder keeps against his cheeks. “Let’s go, hm?”

Jungwon nods. “Okay. Let’s go.”

💫

“Crazy thought, Jungwon hyung.” 

”What is it?”

If the world ends one day, no matter where I am, I will rush to your side. How about it?”

“Want to spend your last day on this planet with me, baby?”

“More than anything else in the world.”

“Okay. Hyung promises. If the world ends, my last day will be yours—but, let’s not manifest that.”

“Yeah, I know. I don’t think it’ll end in our lifetime, but who knows?”

“Yeah. Who knows?”

💫

There’s no spare helmet available, so the first thing Jungwon does is fit his own over Riki’s head, nimble fingers adjusting the straps and clasp to fit securely. Nothing feels awkward about the way Jungwon leans up on his tip-toes to brush his hair away, to dust his hair away from his eyes, or the way Riki drops his hands to Jungwon’s waist for balance.

“Are you sure you wanna go to the track?”

“Yeah,” Riki replies. “I wanna see you do what you love.”

Jungwon steps back, ignoring the way his cheeks flush hot. “Okay. If you say so.”

“Right. Sure. Just… Take a seat, I guess,” Jungwon motions to the back.

“Hyung first,” Riki returns the offer. “It’ll be easier for me if you go first.”

“I mean, does it make a difference? Really, Riki-yah?” Jungwon rolls his eyes but does as he is asked.

“Yes, it makes a difference because you’re the anchor, Jungwonie hyung,” He sticks his tongue out, eyes crinkling again from his bright smile. Jungwon shuts the visor down over his face.

How unfortunate that it does nothing to quell the way his pulse hammers in his throat.

Riki throws a leg over the seat, sliding into position right behind Jungwon’s back. Chest-to-back, his arms coil around Jungwon’s torso, fingers locking into a fixed web over his abdomen. For a split second, Jungwon actually forgets how to start the stupid motorcycle, far too flustered by the way their bodies fall into each other. 

The heart treats this as a homecoming;it is starting to sway his emotions, too.

“Hyung,” Riki hums, butterfly-light taps of his fingers rhythmically drumming against Jungwon’s skin. His voice is low, deep. The type of sound Jungwon has never been able to get rid of, the one he has craved to hear in his dreams.

“W-What?” Jungwon weakly responds, internally kicking himself as he fumbles to shove the key into ignition. The engine roars to life. “Don’t make fun of me. I missed you. And now, you’re here. My brain needs time to adjust. Give me a break if it’s fuzzy.”

“You missed me,” Riki’s teasing lilt carries across the visor. “I missed you every single minute of every single day and regretted my decision to leave. The job was good, but not having you… I couldn’t enjoy it. But, a promise is a promise. We promised each other the end. Take your time, though. I’m going to use the same time to commit you to memory.”

“Shut up, now really isn’t the time to switch up on what you had set in stone,” Jungwon snorts, finally loosening his shoulders. Tension erases from his joints, melting into the arms wrapped around him. “You said we were surviving this. I’m choosing to place my blind faith in you. I’ll deal with you and our break-up then. What’s the last call for those tickets?”

“You’ll go, right?” Riki suddenly sounds so small, so genuinely tiny and meek, it almost gives Jungwon whiplash. “Final call is at eight p.m. tonight.”

“As long as you’re with me…” Jungwon hesitates. “I was so prepared to die, y’know. I was at peace with it. I haven’t processed the hope you’ve given me yet, but, give me a few hours.”

“That’s okay,” Riki only holds on tighter. “Take as much time as you need. You’ll have it, hyung.”

With his foot, Jungwon lifts the kickstand up. The open road is his for the taking. Unlike before, the air is hot and suffocating, sulfur fumes strife in the atmosphere. Any original view that once brought solace is now overwhelmed with what appears to be Hell’s ascension on Earth. Angry orange, striking red. A bleeding sky dotted with pomegranate seeds. A blood-red sun.

The world is ending, and Jungwon is in Riki’s arms.

This is the main thing he focuses on for twenty minutes during the drive. How Riki’s hands graze against his jacket. How his fingers fidget with the zipper. How his head lolls across the expanse of Jungwon’s shoulders with the helmet.

And then, there’s also quiet, understated conversation pushing against the sound of the engine. 

Neither of them ask any important questions, using the time to ask in each other’s presence. He listens to Riki’s voice, chiseling it into his heart, brain and soul. It has the effect of a soothing balm against the burn.

“What do you mean you keep your entire life under the seat?” Riki had asked, baffled.

“Felt safer, y’know. If I tried to run away and beat the end of the world,” Jungwon sighed. “But, like most, I gave up. Those sort of thoughts became pointless.”

“Ah,” Riki responded. “I see.” 

The circuit is the same as when Jungwon had left it a few hours ago. He thinks it’s sort of ridiculous that he had regrets earlier, only for Riki to show up as the light at the end of his tunnel. He parks at the starting line, dismounting the bike.

“Give me a second, I’m sure there are more helmets around here somewhere,” He yells as he runs to the main office, keeping his gaze fixed on Riki over his shoulder until he can no longer see him.

Five minutes later, Jungwon returns with a fairly new piece of headgear to find Riki with two boxes in his hands. “What’s that?” He points immediately. “Matches and candles? It’s not your birthday today, and even if it were, situationally…”

“Hey, it’s someone’s birthday today, I’m sure.” 

By now, Riki has removed the helmet. He stands, still life minus the frame, a picture worth millions as he leans against the motorcycle for support. The moment allows Jungwon to take a good look at his—God, what even if Riki to him right now? He doesn’t quite know, but if there is one thing he will stamp with permanence, it is that Riki is his.

His Riki has gotten thinner. His bones are prominent. Stress must be eating him alive from the inside at his new job. More bones than skin, but he still has his typical features, the usual accessories he would rather die than walk around without because I have to look cool, hyung—it’s basic Riki Law, and eyes that overflow with pure, unadulterated love for Jungwon.

That, has not changed. Jungwon can recognize it in a heartbeat. 

“Show me how you race,” Riki urges him. “It’s almost four. We only have about three and a half hours left.”

“Right,” Jungwon realizes. Time doesn’t feel real to him anymore, but it still exists. “Watch your hyung, Riki-yah.”

Five laps around the track take three minutes, but Jungwon has fuel to waste, and a lifeless gas station next door, so he goes for at least thirty laps. Some slower, some faster, some covering the guttural screams expelled from his mouth, others blocking out his quiet, choking sobs every time he passes Riki at the check line.

How much has Riki loved and missed him to the point where he said goodbye to his family and left for Seoul in search of Jungwon, respecting his boundaries by waiting until the last day to contact him for network connectivity was lost for good?

In a way, Jungwon is grateful. Had they had more time, if things hadn’t worked out, if Riki had not won those tickets by some stroke of luck, Jungwon would have spent the entire week filled with the one thing he wished to not have — regret. 

One year lost. The greatest heartbreak of his life. Jungwon’s best friend, his soulmate, his everything, ripped from his heart.

He cries for what he has lost. Promises himself this will be the last time because good things await them in three hours.

When the engine rumble finally dies, Jungwon slides off again, landing on the ground with a pompous flicker of invisible hair. Not once, in the last twenty minutes, has Riki put his phone down. In fact, he’s still recording. 

“Did you see me?” Jungwon giggles, sniffling. The backs of his hands are used to dab his cheeks. “Wasn’t I incredible? If I had actual opponents, they’d be left in the dust.”

“Of course,” Riki agrees. Jungwon freezes at the water tone, lightning speed overtaking the way he lifts his head up. Riki shakes his hand instantly. “No, no, I’m just—this was always your dream. I’m glad I got to see you fulfill it, hyung.”

“If you say so.” Old habits die hard. Jungwon reaches up, ruffling Riki’s hair, his insides puddling over the way the younger chases the touch. “Now, tell hyung what’s up with the candles and matches.”

“Let’s sit down,” Riki says instead.

One of the benches is near, therefore, in less than a minute, they settle down, Riki’s head on Jungwon’s lap, Jungwon’s hand tenderly scraping over his tummy.

“Birthday candles,” Riki finally explains. “And matchsticks. For every birthday I’ll never have—”

“Don’t be ridiculous and sprout bullshit,” Jungwon angers quickly, body locking with a surge of ice injecting into the spaces between his bones. “You and I, you just said earlier, we’re going into the labyrinth. There’ll be plenty of birthdays left for us. Save your star-shaped candles.”

Riki gives him a lazy grin, scrunching his face in the most frustratingly adorable manner known to humankind. 

“Humor me?” He pouts. “Let’s make wishes upon stars since we can’t see them anymore, okay? How about, hyung? Sorry for not wording myself more correctly.”

“That’s better,” Jungwon acquiesces, still frowning.

A flash count reveals five candles. Five wishes, then.

The first match is struck, brought to the wick. Jungwon’s other hand finds home in his hair, carding along his scalp. Ease washes through Riki’s body.

“My wish is—” 

“Don’t say them aloud. Wishes spoken don’t come true,” Jungwon warns.

“Hyung!” Riki whines, upset. “Let me do this one thing!”

“Geez,” Jungwon furrows his eyebrows, taken aback. “Okay, okay, whatever. Don’t blame me when none of them come true.”

“It’s fine, I’ll deal with the consequences my way,” Riki promises. “Now, where was I?”

Jungwon waits.

“I wish I hadn’t gotten the interview phone call in the middle of shopping to buy an engagement ring for you.” 

The candle is blown. 

All Jungwon can do is force himself to breathe. His eyes are wide, dry. Every atom in his body defies science and scrambles to be split apart. What the fuck is that supposed to mean, really? His mind is thoroughly being tangled. If he inhales any harder, he’ll suffer with internal burns. 

Riki lights another candle.

“I wish I hadn’t gotten on that flight to Tokyo one year ago.”

Swish. The flame is extinguished.

Then, another.

“I wish we had adopted that cute dog we raised for a few weeks before it vanished from the alleyway. Tteok. Do you remember how cute she was when she put her chin on me? I taught her that. She was practically our child.”

A huff. It goes out. 

Jungwon’s heart is beating too fast, practically bouncing against his rib cage. Any faster, any spark of acceleration, and he strongly fears the organ might break through the barrier of muscle keeping it limited to his chest. The pain is imminent, but there is something about all of this coming to light one year later that kills him inside. Where was this when they walked away from each other, silence crushing them to pieces of a previous whole? 

Another light.

“I wish I called you when I landed and I told you how much I missed you.”

He looks down, only to find Riki already looking up at him.

The flame is squashed between his fingers.

The last light.

“I wish we had never broken up, Jungwon hyung,” Riki laughs, anguished. “That was honestly the worst thing to ever happen to me.”

“Me too.” Quietly, Jungwon echoes the sentiment. “Tragic that it took the world ending to bring us back to each other, don’t you think?” 

“Mhm,” Riki shows his agreement with a nod. “In the end, I quite like that it’s me and you.”

Jungwon leans down, moving to flick away a spot of soot on the side of Riki’s face. “Yeah, I mean—”

An arm crosses around him, slotting the inside of his elbow over the nape of Jungwon’s neck, assisting gravity in her pull to finally let them crash and collide. 

And, if Jungwon truly lends it some thought, he realizes that it was quite foolish of him in every sense of the word to think it was possible to fall out of love with the person who taught him the true definition of the very word. Understanding this isn’t astronomical, or earth-shattering, but rather quaint, like a feather stroking over his cheek, the same way Riki’s thumb traces over his facial features, keeping their lips together at a blooming pace.

The world is ending and they are kissing in the middle of an abandoned racing circuit on the outskirts of Seoul. The sky is orange, weeping sulfur. Riki’s hands are under his chin while Jungwon’s lips sink and sink and he drowns. For three hundred and sixty five days, Jungwon’s thoughts have not been able to move without bumping into some form of Riki. Now, he physically has his love in his hands, fingers buried in his hair, the pang of yearning tugging deep as his mouth remembers the shape it takes against him.

“Jungwon hyung,” Riki breathes in what Jungwon exhales, unknown starting and end points wrecking normal brain chemistry. “I love you.”

He tastes salt on tongue, the source unknown. “I love you, too. Always have, always will.”

The sky above thunders and shrieks.

Jungwon and Riki continue to ignore it.

💫

Hours eventually dwindle down to minutes. The entrance of the labyrinth is dead man’s land. Evidence of the people who tried to force their way in lays splattered on the ground. The sterile scent is nauseating from all the sulfur he has inhaled for the longest time. 

Jungwon spent a few minutes saying goodbye to his motorcycle outside. Riki held his hand throughout it and did not let go.

In the end, because the time is so close and most of the rich have entered already, with the few normal civilians drawing with luck, the place is practically deserted since most probably did not want to leave it to the last minute.

“Hyung,” Riki suddenly says. “Can I hug you?”

Jungwon stands, confused, bag hanging off his shoulder. 

“Yes, of course.” 

Nevertheless, he responds with action, pulling Riki into the most bone-crushing embrace. The type of sear the shape of one’s limbs into another’s skeleton. 

Everything felt, he puts into this hug. Sheer relief of their survival, genuine hope for their future together. Unabashed gratitude over their reunion. There are aspects riddled with guilt, but none of them come close to the smidgeon of happiness he allows himself to keep. Riki holds him close, their bodies like the opposite poles of magnets. 

The guard stands at the check-point with a rifle. 

“I’m going to shoot if you kids don’t knock it off and get in here.”

Immediately, Riki takes the first ticket out and holds it up to show that they aren’t a threat. But, he still keeps his arms around Jungwon, iron-clad and longing. It lingers, like dread, like worry. Jungwon feels unsettled. Why is he acting like this? The guard is right, they can do this on the other side, when they’ve made it over.

“Once you scan the ticket, you will not be allowed to exit. You will officially belong to the Labyrinth’s population and move to your new residence underground. We don’t know how long the Earth will be inhabitable, but the prediction is that the air will be toxic after midnight tonight. So, if you don’t move it already!” The guard taps the rifle against the turnstile.

“Fine,” Riki chokes out. “Fuck man, we’re coming.”

The first ticket scans. Without warning, Riki pushes Jungwon through the stainless steel turnstile, causing him to tumble through with a gasp. 

He’s in. 

Oh my God.

Jungwon is inside. He is going to survive. Jungwon is going to survive with Riki.

“Riki-yah,” He chokes up, turning around. Even the guard waits for Riki to scan the second ticket, eyebrows raised. “Come on, hurry up. Time’s almost up. We have to go inside.”

On the opposite side, Riki makes no effort to move.

You’re not going to die.

Jungwon’s hand falls limp at his side.

You’re going to survive, hyung.

Not once had he ever spoken about surviving in the plural form. 

You’re going to survive this, Jungwon hyung.

Finally, without meaning to, it clicks.

Crushing, strangling.

Jungwon’s body solidifies, each vital organ calcifying into stone. 

When he looks up, Riki looks at him with unfounded love and adoration, exactly like the first time he had tripped against the printer in their office, fixed his spectacles, adjusted the bag slung across his body, and looked around to see if he had been caught. Hiding behind printed sheets had not been enough to save Jungwon from remaining inconspicuous. Perhaps it was good that his laughter had not been concealed by the paper wall.

The first time Riki looked at Jungwon, everyone had known he was gone, Jungwon included. 

His face is round, tiny. Exactly like the new office hire who literally fell into his life one random Tuesday morning. 

“I love you,” Riki smiles sadly. “Tell everyone I was the coolest person you knew, alright? That title is always going to be mine.”

The grin on Jungwon’s face slides off. The string of words Riki pulls together coils around his neck like a noose. Inside, the acid in his stomach retches up. His throat clogs, eyes blurring so rapidly he can barely make out Riki from the background anymore. The bag on his shoulder falls off. Jungwon runs to the turnstile, hips slamming against the metal, but it does not budge.

Opposite ends of the mirror create a jarring image. Glassy eyes, trembling lips. Stubborn hands, shattering hearts.

Jungwon has never felt this level of pain in his entire life — it truly feels like he could die right now. 

“Riki, no. What the fuck are you saying? Where’s your ticket? Baby, you said—you won—Nishimura Riki, I’ll kill you!” His words are garbled, jumbled, the worst mix of thick and heavy, chest heaving with pain shooting across every inch of his body.

He doesn’t want it to click. He doesn’t want to believe this was Riki’s intention the entire time. 

Riki’s voice gets fainter and fainter the more he backs away. “When your birthday comes around, use those star candles to remember me. I shoved a whole box of them into your bag when you weren’t looking earlier.”

Fists bang the bulletproof glass above the turnstiles in protest. There was no way to reach out to him now, officially in two different worlds.

“Riki! Don’t joke! Scan your fucking ticket and come here now!” Jungwon keeps banging his hands against the glass. 

How he wishes it would crumble like the paper wall.

“Kid! Don’t be stupid or they’ll sedate you and take you inside. Move back now!”

“My boyfriend is leaving me! Ahjussi, please—tell him not to leave me alone. He lied to me! He said we were going to survive together! Nishimura Riki!” Jungwon cries out, straining his vocal cords to the max. “You don’t get to do this! I was fine with dying, let me out so we can die together! What’s wrong with you?!”

He keeps getting smaller and smaller. Jungwon doesn’t like this at all.

Someone catches his wrists and pulls him back. Lifting a knee, he kicks back, knocking into their shin.

Behind the glass, Riki falters, one slow step in front of the next, then the next, a jog until a fully blown sprint until he is right in front of Jungwon being wrestled to the ground for his insubordination.

Dropping to his knees, Riki frantically slams his hands, prints forming against the pristine layers. “Hey! Hey, what the fuck! Don’t do that to him! He’ll go with you, give him a break!” He bursts out, scrambling to form a crack in the glass. “Hyung, go with them! Don’t do this, please. Jungwonie hyung, please! Hey—Hey, don’t take that near him, hey! What are you doing to him—”

The last thing he sees before everything turns black is Riki being pulled away, Jungwon managing to mumble three last words as the entire world, as he knows it, fades away.

💫

When Jungwon awakes, he finds himself in an area similar to the size of his shoebox studio apartment in Hongdae. It’s mildly off-putting, to say the least. Everything is dull, dark. The bed is hard and there are no air purifiers in the vicinity. Each item has been digitalized in various ways, and there is no way to tell the time.

How did he get here? 

How in the world did he get here?

Who put these white clothes on him?

Immediately, he searches for his bag. Almost trips over it next to the bed. Unzips and turns it over to see if anything has been taken. However, everything is still the same. All except for two additions.

One box of star candles. A voice recorder. 

His entire body shakes as he drops to the ground, hitting play. 

Hyung, it’s Riki.

I hope you’re not too upset with me. By the time you’re listening to this, I’ll be on my way back to your apartment—hope you don’t mind, I spotted your address when I opened your bag to leave the candles and figured it would be best to lay low until things are final, y’know? My plan? Ah, nothing too crazy. I’ll look at pictures of you and my family and find some kind of happiness in knowing I had all of you in my heart until my last moment.

Who knows when that’ll even be? If it’ll even happen? Maybe Kepler-47’s sun will stop being so angry and cancel the supernova. I’ll ask the sun. I’ll ask the sun to stop so I can be with you again. 

You’re probably mad, right? About me lying. Jungwon hyung, I love you so much I sometimes don’t know what to do with myself. So, if you’re mad at me, it’s fine. I loved you first, I’ve always loved you more. We argue about this so often. When I won that ticket and my family said no, I had to find a way to get it to you. I had to find a way to make sure you were going to be okay. 

Spending this day with you has been something out of a dream. Not once in my entire life did I think I’d be able to call you mine again. Yet, today, I did it several times. I got to remember what it’s like to have you in my arms and what it feels like to kiss you. Seeing how you’ve grown into the best version of yourself has been eye-opening. Maybe I had been holding you back in a way. 

I don’t want to make this long. But, God, hyung, I love you. I want you to know you have always been my person. My only person. And, sometimes, when you love someone, you tend to do crazy things. Like self-sacrifice or whatever. I’m so cool. So, so cool, hyung.

I honestly don’t know what to say. I never thought we’d be faced with the situation like this, but here we are.

I told you this time and time again, but let me tell you it once more. 

Jungwon hyung, if it’s for you… I’m willing to risk my life and protect you.

So, don’t be mad at me, okay? This was my choice to protect what I love the most—you. Always you. It has always been you, hyung.

I wonder if you remember this, but once, you said we’d die hugging each other, but I said no, I didn’t want that. The reason I said that was because I didn’t want to imagine that happening. Now that I have a chance to make sure you’re safe, I’m going to take it. So, again, I’m saying no, hyung. You’re not dying on my watch. 

Oh, I think you’re coming back—shit. Shit. I need to hide this. Ugh! 

Remember me when you think of the stars, okay? 

I’m going to become one real soon.

Signing off. This has been Riki. Yours, forever and always.

When Riki’s voice comes to a close, all Jungwon can do is hold onto the candles and recorder. He cries and bawls and weeps as the world above him waits to be burnt.

Maybe Jungwon will ask the sun, too.