Work Text:
December 31st, 1999.
The streets of Seoul were on fire with anticipation. Everywhere Jeongguk looked, he saw people laughing, embracing, celebrating the end of a millennium. Their joy was palpable, a living thing that rippled through the city like the ringing of a bell, but to Jeongguk, it all felt distant, muted, like watching a dream through a thick pane of glass.
He had no reason to celebrate.
His boots crunched softly against the snow-dusted pavement, but his mind was far from the present. Each step carried him further away from the light, from the laughter, from everything that was supposed to mark a new beginning. Instead, Jeongguk was trapped—trapped in memories, trapped in time, and most of all, trapped in the past.
Taehyung. The name throbbed like an old scar, always there, hidden beneath the surface but never fully healed.
The memories were relentless.
They came in waves, crashing against him, unbidden and unwanted, but impossible to push away. Jeongguk could still see him—Kim Taehyung, standing there in the sunlight, the day they graduated, the light catching in his brown hair, his eyes shimmering like glass. Taehyung’s smile had been soft, almost bittersweet, and even then, Jeongguk hadn’t understood why.
Spring, 1990.
“Jeongguk, you’re late again.” Taehyung’s voice had been sharp, almost a taunt, as he stood by the track with his arms crossed, eyes flashing with that infuriating mix of smugness and challenge.
“Only because I knew you’d lose, anyway,” Jeongguk had shot back, but his chest had tightened the moment Taehyung smiled in response—a smile that had always seemed to reach his eyes in a way that made Jeongguk’s heart twist.
They had been rivals from the moment they met. Everything was a competition—who was faster, who was smarter, who could throw the better punch or land the last word in their endless arguments. But the truth—the one Jeongguk never said aloud, not even to himself—was that every glare, every insult, had been nothing more than a shield to protect the secret he couldn’t admit.
That he didn’t want to beat Taehyung. He wanted to be close to him.
Every day was the same push and pull—a tug of war between wanting Taehyung to notice him and pushing him away, terrified of what those feelings meant.
But then, just as suddenly as their rivalry had started, it had ended.
Graduation Day, 1991.
Jeongguk remembered it with startling clarity—Taehyung had been standing by the gates of their high school, diploma in hand, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows on the ground. They hadn’t said anything. Not at first. They had just looked at each other, the silence between them suddenly heavy with all the words that had never been spoken.
Jeongguk had opened his mouth, his heart hammering in his chest. He had been on the verge of saying something—something real for once, not another biting remark or sarcastic jab—but before he could find the courage to speak, Taehyung had smiled. A soft, sad smile that seemed to say all the things Jeongguk couldn’t understand.
And then, he was gone.
Nine years.
Nine long years of searching. Of regret. Of wondering what if.
Jeongguk had tried to move on. He had tried to forget, to bury the memories of Taehyung beneath the layers of work and the noise of life, but no matter what he did, Taehyung was always there, lingering in the corners of his mind, like a ghost that refused to fade.
Every New Year’s Eve, it got worse. The guilt. The sense of loss. Jeongguk found himself thinking about that last day—about the words he never said, the questions he never asked.
Until the rumors reached him.
A village that doesn’t exist.
It had taken years of chasing whispers, dead ends, and half-believed stories before he found anything real. The village was a myth—a legend spoken in hushed tones by people who had heard it from someone else. But every year, on the last day of the year, it appeared—just for one night.
And then it vanished.
It wasn’t an ordinary village. Those who found it claimed it was alive, that it could trap you in the past, feed on your memories, force you to relive your regrets over and over again. People would lose themselves there, trapped in the web of their own mistakes, unable to escape.
Jeongguk believed, with everything he had, that Taehyung was in that village. Trapped. Alone.
He wasn’t going to lose him again.
10:30 p.m.
The streets of Seoul faded behind him as Jeongguk made his way toward the outskirts. The noise of the city dimmed, swallowed by the quiet of the snow-covered hills beyond. The cold bit at his skin, sharp and unforgiving, but he barely felt it. His breath came out in soft clouds, mingling with the night air as he walked faster, his heart pounding with a growing sense of urgency.
The village, they said, would disappear forever after the last night of the millennium—tonight. If he didn’t find it—if he didn’t find Taehyung—it would be over. For good.
Jeongguk’s hands tightened into fists in his pockets, his nails biting into his palms as he pushed forward. His eyes were fixed on the path ahead, his thoughts spiraling into the past again, into the what-ifs and maybes that had consumed him for so long.
What if he had said something that day?
What if he hadn’t let Taehyung walk away? What if he had grabbed him by the wrist, pulled him close, and told him the truth? That he didn’t care about their rivalry. That none of it mattered. That what he wanted—what he had always wanted—was Taehyung. Not as a competitor. Not as an enemy. But as something more.
What if he had just said it?
Jeongguk shook his head, forcing the thoughts away. There was no point in thinking like that now. He couldn’t change the past. But maybe—just maybe—he could change the future.
The clearing appeared before him like a mirage. The trees surrounding it were ancient, their branches twisted and gnarled, like the hands of something old and forgotten. Snow dusted the ground, untouched by footprints or life. The space felt… still. Too still. As if it were waiting for something.
Jeongguk stopped at the edge, his breath catching in his throat as he checked his watch.
10:45 p.m.
Fifteen minutes before the village was supposed to appear. Fifteen minutes before everything either changed or ended.
For a long moment, there was only silence.
And then, the wind shifted.
It came suddenly, whipping through the clearing with a force that made Jeongguk stumble back, his heart pounding in his chest. The air grew colder—bone-deep, unnatural. He shivered, his skin prickling with a sense of foreboding as the world around him began to shift.
It was subtle at first, like a ripple in a pond, but then it became something more—a bending of reality. The ground beneath him seemed to blur, the trees distorting in his vision, and then, out of the mist, buildings began to appear. Old, weathered, like they had been standing for centuries but untouched by time.
The village materialized in front of him, and Jeongguk’s breath hitched.
The village was real.
It was there, standing before him in the clearing like a specter. The buildings were bathed in a strange, faint golden light, flickering as though the village itself were alive, holding its breath. The air was thick with something Jeongguk couldn’t quite place—a sense of… sadness? Regret?
It felt heavy, oppressive, like the weight of a thousand unspoken words pressing down on him.
Without hesitation, Jeongguk stepped inside.
The moment he crossed the threshold, the past slammed into him with the force of a freight train.
His breath caught in his throat, his chest tightening as the world around him seemed to warp, twisting and shifting into something that felt all too familiar. The village wasn’t just showing him memories—it was recreating them. Every street, every building, every flicker of light was laced with the remnants of his past, of his regrets.
His heart pounded in his chest as he moved forward, eyes darting from side to side, taking in the scene. He could hear voices—faint, distant, but unmistakable. Laughter, shouting, the sound of Taehyung’s voice—sharp, teasing, just as it had been when they were younger. It felt so real, so tangible, but at the same time, it wasn’t.
Jeongguk turned a corner, and suddenly, he saw it.
The school courtyard. Their school courtyard, standing there in the middle of the village like it had been plucked straight from their high school days. His heart raced as he stepped closer, his eyes scanning the familiar space, his chest tightening with a sense of dread.
And then, he saw him.
Taehyung stood in the center of the courtyard, bathed in the same golden light that filled the village.
Jeongguk froze, his breath catching in his throat, his heart hammering against his ribs. Taehyung looked exactly as he had the last time Jeongguk saw him—his hair tousled, his uniform crisp, his gaze distant. But there was something off. Something wrong.
Taehyung wasn’t moving. He was standing perfectly still, his eyes locked on something Jeongguk couldn’t see. His expression was blank, devoid of the warmth and life that had always made Taehyung so… alive.
“Taehyung…?” Jeongguk’s voice was barely a whisper, his hands trembling at his sides. He took a step forward, his heart pounding in his chest. “Taehyung, it’s me. It’s Jeongguk.”
But Taehyung didn’t respond. He didn’t even blink. It was like he wasn’t really there.
The air around them grew colder, heavier.
Jeongguk’s chest tightened with a sudden, overwhelming sense of panic. He could feel the village closing in around them, the weight of time pressing down on him like a vice. Midnight was approaching, and with it, the end of everything.
He couldn’t lose Taehyung. Not again.
Jeongguk stepped forward, his hand trembling as he reached out, his voice cracking with desperation. “Taehyung, please—look at me.”
Finally, Taehyung’s head turned, his eyes meeting Jeongguk’s. But there was no recognition. No spark. Nothing but emptiness.
“I don’t belong here anymore,” Taehyung whispered, his voice flat, hollow, like a distant echo. “I’ve been waiting too long.”
The words hit Jeongguk like a knife to the chest, stealing the breath from his lungs.
No. He hadn’t come this far, he hadn’t waited this long, just to lose Taehyung again.
His hand found Taehyung’s arm, gripping it tightly, his voice shaking with emotion. “You don’t have to stay here. I’m here now. We can leave. Together.”
But Taehyung’s eyes didn’t change. He wasn’t really here, Jeongguk realized, his heart breaking in his chest. Taehyung was trapped in this place—trapped in the past, in the memories that had held him prisoner for nine long years.
The village flickered, and Jeongguk felt the air shift again—colder, darker. Midnight was coming. Time was running out.
He couldn’t lose him. Not like this.
Jeongguk tightened his grip on Taehyung’s arm, his voice trembling with urgency. “I’m not leaving without you.”
The village was suffocating.
Jeongguk could feel it—the weight of the past pressing down on him, the air heavy and thick with memories. His chest tightened with every breath, his mind a whirlwind of emotions that he couldn’t untangle. He held onto Taehyung’s arm, his grip firm, but Taehyung didn’t move. He didn’t react. He just stood there, staring past Jeongguk, eyes glassy, as if he were seeing something—or someone—that wasn’t there.
“Taehyung…” Jeongguk’s voice trembled, the sound of it barely louder than a whisper. His hand, cold and shaking, hovered near Taehyung’s face, unsure if he should touch him—if it would break whatever fragile spell had kept Taehyung trapped for all these years.
But Taehyung didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. He just stood there, lost in a memory that Jeongguk couldn’t reach.
Nine years.
Nine years of searching. Nine years of regret and guilt. It was all too much—too much for Jeongguk to bear, standing there in front of the one person he had never been able to forget. The one person who had slipped through his fingers, like sand, before Jeongguk could even understand what he was losing.
“I thought I’d never see you again,” Jeongguk whispered, his voice cracking under the weight of his own emotions. His hand finally touched Taehyung’s cheek, the skin cold beneath his fingers. The contact sent a shock through Jeongguk, a visceral reminder that Taehyung was real. He wasn’t just a ghost or a figment of Jeongguk’s grief-stricken mind. He was here.
But why didn’t he feel real?
The village flickered around them, its golden glow dimming, as though the memories it harbored were too old, too fragile to keep burning. The once-vibrant streets now felt like an illusion—something built on fading dreams, barely held together by the past that haunted it. Jeongguk could hear faint echoes—voices that didn’t belong to this moment. His name, called out from distant memories. Laughter, sharp and cutting, like glass breaking.
Taehyung’s voice, laced with frustration, rang out in his mind: “You never take anything seriously, Jeongguk!”
Jeongguk’s heart clenched, the memory hitting him harder than he expected. He could almost feel it—their fights, the way Taehyung’s eyes would flash with anger, and yet, beneath that anger, there had always been something else. Something unsaid. Something neither of them had been brave enough to speak aloud.
Jeongguk’s lips parted, a wave of emotion rising in his throat. “Taehyung, I—”
But before he could finish, Taehyung’s head tilted ever so slightly, his eyes drifting to meet Jeongguk’s. For a split second, something flickered in his gaze—something real, something painfully familiar. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by that same empty stare.
“I’ve been waiting,” Taehyung murmured, his voice distant, hollow. He turned his head slowly, looking out over the village, as if searching for something—or someone—that wasn’t there. “I’ve been waiting so long…”
“Waiting?” Jeongguk’s heart pounded in his chest, a sharp ache spreading through him as he stepped closer, refusing to let go of Taehyung’s arm. “Taehyung, I’ve been searching for you—for years. I didn’t know what happened to you. You just… disappeared. Where did you go? Why didn’t you—”
“I’m still here,” Taehyung interrupted, his voice soft, barely above a whisper. His gaze remained distant, locked on something Jeongguk couldn’t see. “I’ve always been here.”
Jeongguk froze, his mind reeling. Always been here? His stomach churned with a sudden, overwhelming sense of dread. The stories about the village had seemed like nothing more than folklore—fairy tales told to scare children. But now, standing in the middle of it, with Taehyung right in front of him, Jeongguk realized just how real it was.
The village didn’t just trap people in their memories—it kept them there.
And Taehyung had been here, living in those memories, for nine years.
“Taehyung, you don’t have to stay here.” Jeongguk’s voice cracked with desperation. He shook Taehyung’s arm gently, trying to pull him out of whatever trance had taken hold of him. “I’m here now. I found you. We can leave. We can—”
“I can’t leave,” Taehyung whispered, his voice trembling. His eyes flickered with something darker—something painful, raw, and full of regret. “I tried, Jeongguk. I tried to leave, but… I can’t. This place…” His gaze shifted, scanning the empty village, his hand tightening into a fist. “This place won’t let me go.”
Jeongguk’s chest tightened with fear. He took a deep breath, fighting to keep his voice steady. “No. No, that’s not true. You’re not trapped here, Taehyung. You’ve just been… lost. But I’m here now, okay? I’ll get you out of here. I promise.”
But Taehyung shook his head, his eyes hollow once more. “You don’t understand.” His voice dropped to a whisper, and when he looked at Jeongguk, his eyes were filled with something Jeongguk couldn’t name. “It’s not the village that trapped me.”
Jeongguk’s breath caught in his throat. “What… what do you mean?”
Taehyung’s gaze softened, his shoulders sagging as though the weight of his words was too much to bear.
“I can’t move on from it—from you.”
The words landed like a punch to Jeongguk’s gut, knocking the wind from his lungs. He took a step back, his heart pounding in his chest, his mind racing to catch up to what Taehyung was saying.
Him?
Jeongguk opened his mouth, his voice barely a whisper. “Taehyung… what are you saying?”
Taehyung turned away, his hands shaking as he ran them through his hair. “I never left, Jeongguk. Not really. I disappeared, yeah. I ran away. But it wasn’t the village that did this to me.” His voice cracked, raw and trembling. “It was my heart.”
Jeongguk’s throat tightened, a familiar ache spreading through his chest. “What are you talking about?” His words came out in a rush, desperate, as he reached for Taehyung’s hand. “You ran away, but you could’ve come back. You could’ve—”
“I couldn’t come back, because I couldn’t face it!” Taehyung’s voice cut through the stillness like a blade, sharp and trembling. His eyes were wide, full of emotion, his face pale. “I couldn’t face… you. Us. Everything that happened. I loved you, Jeongguk. I loved you so much that it hurt. Every day, I told myself that I hated you, that you were nothing but my rival, but it was a lie. It was always a lie.”
Jeongguk stood frozen, the ground beneath him slipping away, the world tilting around him.
Taehyung’s words rang in his ears like a bell, reverberating through him, shattering the walls he had built around his heart. He had waited so long to hear those words, but now that they had been spoken, they cut deeper than anything he could’ve imagined.
“Taehyung, I—”
“I thought you hated me,” Taehyung whispered, his voice breaking, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “That’s why I left. That’s why I came here. Because I thought there was no future for us, and I couldn’t… I couldn’t bear it.”
Jeongguk’s chest ached with a fierce, desperate kind of grief. He swallowed hard, his throat burning as he took a shaky breath.
“You’re wrong.”
Taehyung’s head snapped up, his eyes wide, startled. Jeongguk stepped closer, his hands trembling as he reached out, cupping Taehyung’s face in his palms, forcing him to look at him—really look at him.
“You’re wrong,” Jeongguk repeated, his voice stronger this time. “I never hated you. I was… I was scared. Of how I felt. Of what it meant. Of losing you. But I never hated you.” His voice broke, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as he stared into Taehyung’s gaze. “I loved you. I’ve always loved you.”
The village trembled around them, the air growing colder, heavier, as if the memories it had been built upon were starting to crumble.
Jeongguk didn’t care. He couldn’t care. He was too lost in Taehyung, in the weight of the words he had never spoken, the feelings he had buried so deep that he thought he could forget them.
“I’m sorry,” Jeongguk whispered, his hands shaking as he held Taehyung’s face, his thumbs brushing over the cold skin of his cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve said something. I should’ve stopped you. I should’ve…”
“I thought you didn’t want me,” Taehyung whispered, his voice trembling as he closed his eyes, leaning into Jeongguk’s touch. “I thought I’d lost you, even before I ever had you.”
Jeongguk’s heart shattered.
He pulled Taehyung closer, pressing his forehead against Taehyung’s, his eyes squeezed shut, his chest aching with the weight of everything that had gone unsaid for so long. “You never lost me,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “You never lost me, Taehyung. I’m still here. I’m right here.”
Time felt like it stopped.
The village flickered around them, the golden glow dimming further, shadows creeping in as the midnight hour drew near. Jeongguk could feel it—time slipping through his fingers like sand. But he wasn’t going to let Taehyung go. Not this time.
“We have to leave,” Jeongguk whispered, his voice urgent now. “Before the village disappears. Before it takes you with it.” His hands tightened on Taehyung’s arms, his heart pounding in his chest. “You don’t belong here, Taehyung. We can leave. Together.”
Taehyung’s eyes met his, full of fear, full of something fragile and broken.
“What if I can’t?” he whispered, his voice trembling. “What if I’m too late?”
Jeongguk’s chest tightened, but he shook his head, his grip firm, his heart steady. “It’s not too late. It’s never too late.” His voice was soft, but fierce. “Come with me, Taehyung. Please. Don’t stay here. Don’t leave me again.”
Taehyung stared at him for a long moment, the shadows of the past flickering in his gaze.
The village felt alive, as though it had been holding its breath, waiting for the moment to pull them both under. The air grew thick with tension, the weight of memories so oppressive that Jeongguk could barely breathe. The golden glow that once bathed the village flickered, like the flame of a dying candle, leaving behind shadows that twisted and stretched unnaturally.
Jeongguk held Taehyung’s hand tightly, unwilling to let go. His heart was racing, his mind a blur of emotions and fear. Taehyung was here, standing right in front of him, and yet, it felt like he was still slipping away, trapped in a place Jeongguk could barely comprehend.
“We need to go.”
Jeongguk’s voice was steady, but his heart was anything but. His hand tightened around Taehyung’s, fingers trembling as if afraid that, at any moment, Taehyung would disappear again. “If we don’t leave now, we’ll be stuck here forever.”
But Taehyung stood still, his gaze far away, as if he were lost somewhere Jeongguk couldn’t follow. His lips parted, his breath escaping in a cold, shaky whisper. “Jeongguk… I can’t.”
The words hit Jeongguk like a hammer. His grip tightened, desperation clawing at his chest. “What do you mean you can’t?”
Taehyung’s eyes, wide and filled with something dark and broken, met Jeongguk’s. His face was pale, his voice barely a whisper. “This place… it’s not just a memory. It’s part of me now. I’ve been here too long. I can’t just… leave it behind.”
Jeongguk’s heart clenched painfully.
He shook his head, refusing to accept it. “You don’t have to be here anymore. You don’t have to stay trapped in the past, Taehyung.” His voice cracked with urgency. “You’re not a part of this village. You’re more than this place.”
But Taehyung’s gaze fell, his body sagging under the weight of his own words. “It’s not just the village,” he whispered, his voice hollow. “It’s me. I’ve been living in this past for so long, I don’t know how to let go. I don’t know how to move on from us. From what we never had.”
Jeongguk’s heart shattered.
Every second that ticked by was like another layer of pain pressing down on him, each word out of Taehyung’s mouth slicing through him. “We still have time. We can fix this.” His voice trembled, his chest tightening with desperation. “We can leave. Together. I’ll help you—whatever it takes, I’ll help you move on.”
But Taehyung’s smile—broken, sorrowful—cut deeper than any words ever could. “I’ve been holding onto this pain for so long, Jeongguk. I don’t even know who I am without it.”
Jeongguk shook his head violently, his chest burning with emotion. “You’re not your pain. You’re not your regrets. You’re not the past.” He stepped closer, his voice fierce, but tender. “You’re Kim Taehyung. You’re alive. You’re real. And you don’t have to be trapped here anymore.”
But Taehyung looked so lost.
His eyes shimmered with unshed tears as he glanced around the village, his gaze distant and faraway, like he was seeing something Jeongguk couldn’t. “This place has been my home for so long. It’s the only place I’ve been able to hold onto you. To keep the memory of you alive.” His voice cracked, his hand tightening around Jeongguk’s. “I thought… maybe if I stayed here, I wouldn’t have to feel the pain of losing you.”
Jeongguk’s heart twisted, guilt and sorrow flooding his veins. “You didn’t lose me, Taehyung.” His voice was soft, but firm. “I’m here. I’ve always been here. I’ve never stopped looking for you.”
Taehyung’s lips trembled.
For a moment, the village flickered again, as if responding to the emotion between them, the memories struggling to hold on. The walls of the old school seemed to sway, the streets cracked, like the entire place was slowly falling apart, crumbling under the weight of time.
Midnight was coming.
Jeongguk knew they didn’t have much time. The village was collapsing, and if they didn’t leave now, it would take them both with it. But the thought of dragging Taehyung out of this place, this place where he had hidden his heart, felt like tearing away part of him.
“Taehyung,” Jeongguk whispered, stepping closer until they were only inches apart. His voice trembled, raw with emotion. “You’re not alone anymore. You don’t have to carry this pain by yourself. I’m here now. I’ll be with you, no matter where we go. But we have to leave this place. We have to let go.”
Taehyung’s eyes searched Jeongguk’s face, his breath shaky, his heart clearly torn.
For so long, he had been living in this illusion, clinging to the past, holding on to the one thing that had kept him from moving forward: his love for Jeongguk. It had been everything to him. But now, as Jeongguk stood in front of him, flesh and blood, offering him a way out, Taehyung wasn’t sure if he could leave it behind.
Could he really let go? Could he truly face a world where the past wasn’t his only comfort anymore?
The village flickered again, more violently this time, as if it were warning them.
The shadows stretched farther, the buildings creaked, their foundations cracking under the strain of keeping this place alive for so long. Jeongguk’s heart pounded in his chest as he glanced around, the urgency building. Time was running out.
“Taehyung, please.” Jeongguk’s voice cracked with desperation. “If we don’t leave now, we’ll be trapped here forever. We’ll lose everything. I can’t… I can’t lose you again. Not like this.”
Taehyung’s lips parted, his eyes glistening with tears.
For a moment, it was as if the world around them had frozen, the weight of the decision pressing down on both of them, time stretching and bending. Jeongguk could see the conflict in Taehyung’s eyes—the fear, the uncertainty, the deep-rooted pain that had kept him tied to this place for so long.
But then, slowly, Taehyung nodded.
“Okay,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, but it was enough. “I’ll come with you.”
Jeongguk’s heart soared.
Without wasting another second, he took Taehyung’s hand and began pulling him through the crumbling village, the ground beneath them cracking as they ran. The once-familiar streets were barely recognizable now, the golden light completely gone, replaced by darkness and flickering shadows. The world around them groaned, as if it were collapsing in on itself, and Jeongguk could feel the ground trembling beneath his feet.
They ran through the village, the echo of their footsteps drowned out by the sound of the buildings collapsing behind them, the eerie silence of the village now replaced by the deafening roar of its destruction. Each step felt like they were running through time itself, the weight of their shared history trailing behind them like a shadow, threatening to pull them back into the past.
“Faster!” Jeongguk urged, his voice breaking as he pulled Taehyung along, his grip never loosening. He could feel the tremors growing stronger, the cracks in the ground spreading like the veins of a dying body. The buildings that had once stood tall, remnants of their memories, were crumbling into dust, dissolving as if they had never existed.
The village was dying, and with it, every moment that had kept Taehyung trapped. Every ghost of their past.
But Taehyung stumbled.
For a brief, heart-stopping moment, Taehyung faltered, his hand slipping slightly in Jeongguk’s. His chest heaved as he tried to keep up, his breath coming in ragged gasps, and his eyes flicked back toward the village behind them. The look in his eyes—torn between fear and longing—made Jeongguk’s heart twist painfully.
“Jeongguk…” Taehyung’s voice was small, trembling. “What if… what if I can’t live without it? What if I’m not ready to leave all of this behind?”
Jeongguk stopped, spinning around, his grip on Taehyung’s hand tightening with desperation.
His eyes locked with Taehyung’s, raw and filled with all the emotion he had kept bottled up for years. His chest ached as he saw the conflict, the doubt, the sadness still etched deeply into Taehyung’s features. And for a moment, Jeongguk’s heart stilled. Was he asking too much of Taehyung? Could they truly escape the ghosts of their past?
But then, with fierce determination, Jeongguk shook his head. “No. You’re stronger than this. You’ve always been stronger than me, Taehyung. You can leave this behind, and we can face the future together. I need you with me. Not here. Not trapped in this place.” His voice broke, his heart hammering in his chest. “I need you in the real world. With me.”
Taehyung’s eyes shimmered with tears, and for a moment, he hesitated.
He glanced back at the village one last time, the place that had been his prison for so long. The memories, the pain, the love he had clung to—it had been all he had. But now, standing in front of him was the one person he had been holding onto for so long. The one person he had thought he’d lost forever.
And in that moment, as he looked into Jeongguk’s eyes, something shifted inside him.
“I don’t want to stay here anymore,” Taehyung whispered, his voice soft, but steady. “I want to leave. With you.”
Jeongguk’s heart soared, relief flooding through him like a wave. Without another word, he pulled Taehyung close, his arm wrapping around him protectively as they ran together, the village collapsing behind them in a cacophony of dust and memories.
The ground beneath their feet cracked and groaned, the air thick with the sound of destruction.
The once-vibrant buildings had become nothing but shadows, dissolving into the night, taking with them the echoes of their shared past. Jeongguk could feel the tremors beneath his feet, the ground threatening to give way as the village crumbled entirely. He didn’t dare look back—there was no going back now. Only forward.
The end of the village was drawing near. The edge was just within reach, the darkness giving way to a faint light that signaled the end of the nightmare.
“We’re almost there!” Jeongguk shouted over the roar of the collapsing village, his voice filled with a mixture of desperation and hope. “Just a little further!”
But as they reached the edge of the village, something strange happened.
The air seemed to grow impossibly heavy, and Jeongguk felt an invisible force pulling at him, tugging at the edges of his mind, whispering to him. The past. His regrets. His fears. The memories he had tried so hard to leave behind clawed at him, begging him to stay, to turn around and give in to the weight of the unresolved emotions that had haunted him for so long.
“Don’t look back,” Jeongguk whispered to himself, his jaw clenched as he kept his eyes fixed on the light ahead. “Don’t look back.”
But the pull was stronger than he had anticipated.
Images flashed in his mind—memories of their time together in high school, the fights, the stolen glances, the moments where he had wanted to reach out but hadn’t. He could feel the sting of regret, the familiar ache that had followed him for years. The village was trying to pull him back, trying to anchor him in the past once more.
Taehyung’s hand tightened around his.
The touch was warm, grounding, and suddenly, the pull of the past loosened its grip on Jeongguk. He turned his head, meeting Taehyung’s gaze, and in that moment, everything else melted away. It was just them.
They were still together.
And then, they crossed the threshold.
The moment they stepped beyond the village’s borders, the world seemed to shift again, the air lightening, the oppressive weight of time lifting from their shoulders. Jeongguk stumbled slightly, his knees weak, his heart still racing from the adrenaline coursing through his veins.
For a moment, there was only silence.
The world around them seemed to hold its breath.
Behind them, the village was gone, reduced to nothing but memories and shadows, and in its place, the night stretched out endlessly, the cold air biting at their skin. But for Jeongguk, none of that mattered. All he could feel, all he could see, was Taehyung—the warmth of his body close to his, the weight of his hand still clasped tightly in his own.
For the first time in nine years, Jeongguk felt like he had found something real. Something he could hold onto. Something he had feared he would never find again.
Fireworks exploded in the sky above them.
The city was celebrating the turn of the millennium, its people unaware of the quiet, intimate victory unfolding just beyond the borders of their world. The sound of fireworks echoed in the distance, but here, in the cold and stillness, it was as if time had slowed just for them.
Jeongguk watched the colors light up Taehyung’s face, casting soft glows of red, blue, and gold across his skin. For a moment, they both stayed silent, basking in the quiet between them, letting the reality of their escape settle into their bones. It felt fragile, almost too delicate to believe. But it was real. They were here. Together. Alive.
Taehyung was the first to break the silence. His voice, though soft, trembled with the weight of everything he had kept inside for so long. “I never thought I’d see the outside again.” He turned his head slightly, his eyes meeting Jeongguk’s, wide and filled with emotion. “I didn’t think I deserved it.”
Jeongguk’s heart ached as he saw the pain still lingering in Taehyung’s eyes, the remnants of the years spent trapped in a world that wasn’t his own. He had been locked away in a place made of memories and regret for so long, it had started to become his reality. “Taehyung…” Jeongguk’s voice broke, filled with an emotion he couldn’t contain. “You’ve always deserved it. You didn’t deserve to be trapped there. Not for this long.”
Taehyung’s lips trembled, and for a moment, his gaze dropped, as if he couldn’t quite bear the weight of Jeongguk’s words. “But I put myself there,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “I… I let it happen because I didn’t know how to face the truth. The truth about you. About us.” He swallowed hard, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill over. “I thought it was easier to hide. To pretend that I could live with the past, as long as I didn’t have to confront the pain.”
Jeongguk’s heart squeezed painfully in his chest. He reached out, his hand gentle as it found its place on Taehyung’s cheek, his thumb brushing softly over the cold skin. “You don’t have to hide anymore.” His voice was steady, filled with a quiet strength. “You don’t have to live in the past. We don’t have to pretend anymore.”
Taehyung’s breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he seemed to teeter on the edge of something—some deep, internal struggle that Jeongguk could only glimpse but couldn’t fully understand. “What if it’s not enough?” Taehyung’s voice was barely a whisper now, fragile and trembling. “What if we’re too broken? What if we’ve spent too long living in our regrets to fix what’s left?”
Jeongguk’s chest tightened, but he didn’t hesitate. His hand moved from Taehyung’s cheek to his shoulder, steady and grounding, his voice filled with a quiet determination. “It’s not too late. We’ve been through hell, but we’re still here. Together.” His gaze softened, his eyes locking with Taehyung’s. “We’re not broken, Taehyung. We just… got lost for a while.”
Taehyung let out a shaky breath, and for a moment, Jeongguk thought he might break down entirely. His body seemed to tremble with the weight of all the years he had carried, all the emotions he had buried so deep inside. “I don’t know how to let go,” Taehyung admitted, his voice barely audible, like he was confessing a sin he had been holding inside for years. “I don’t know how to move forward when all I’ve known is how to hold onto the past.”
Jeongguk’s heart clenched, but he didn’t waver. He pulled Taehyung closer, his arms wrapping around him, holding him tightly against his chest. “Then I’ll help you,” he whispered, his voice full of a fierce, protective tenderness. “We’ll figure it out. Together.” His hand gently threaded through Taehyung’s hair, his fingers soothing as he held him close. “I’ll be here with you. Always.”
For a moment, Taehyung didn’t move. His body stayed rigid in Jeongguk’s arms, as if he were afraid to believe in the comfort being offered. But slowly, hesitantly, he relaxed into the embrace, his hands gripping the fabric of Jeongguk’s jacket like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. And then, in the quiet of the night, surrounded by the distant sound of celebration, Taehyung broke.
He wept.
His tears came in quiet, muffled sobs, his body trembling in Jeongguk’s arms as years of pain, of regret, of fear, poured out of him. It was raw, unfiltered, and Jeongguk held him through it all, his own chest tightening with emotion as he pressed his lips to the top of Taehyung’s head, murmuring soft reassurances.
“It’s okay,” Jeongguk whispered, his voice trembling with the weight of his own emotions. “You’re safe now. We’re safe.” He held Taehyung tighter, his hand gently stroking his back as he let the tears fall. “We’ve got each other, and that’s all we need.”
Time seemed to stop.
For what felt like hours, they stayed like that—wrapped in each other’s arms, clinging to the warmth they found in one another. The world around them faded away, and for a while, it was just them—two souls who had been lost for so long, finally finding their way back to each other.
When Taehyung’s sobs finally quieted, his breathing slowed, and he pulled back slightly, his eyes red and swollen from crying. But there was something different in his gaze now—something softer, more open. The heavy weight of the past no longer clung to him like a chain. “I’m sorry,” Taehyung whispered, his voice hoarse from crying. “I’ve been holding onto this for so long… I didn’t know how to let it go.”
Jeongguk shook his head, his thumb brushing away the last of Taehyung’s tears.
“You don’t have to apologize. Not to me. Not for this.” His voice was soft but steady, filled with a quiet strength that Taehyung had always admired in him. “We both made mistakes. We both let our fears get in the way.” He paused, his voice growing even softer. “But we’re here now. And that’s all that matters.”
Taehyung swallowed hard, his gaze dropping for a moment, as if he was still trying to process everything that had happened. But when he looked back up at Jeongguk, his eyes were clear—clearer than they had been in years. “I love you,” he whispered, the words soft but certain, as if they had been waiting inside him all along, just waiting to be spoken.
Jeongguk smiled—a real, genuine smile that lit up his entire face.
“I love you too,” he whispered back, his heart swelling with a warmth he hadn’t felt in so long. He leaned in, pressing his forehead against Taehyung’s, his voice barely a breath between them. “I always have.”
For a moment, the world was still, their foreheads pressed together, their breaths mingling in the cold night air. It was quiet, peaceful, as if the universe had finally given them the space they needed to just be—to exist in each other’s arms, without the weight of the past pulling them down.
The night stretched on, and the first hints of dawn began to break over the horizon.
The fireworks had long since faded, the city falling back into its usual rhythm, but here, on the edge of the world where they had fought so hard to escape their past, everything felt new. The sky above them was painted in soft hues of pink and gold, the stars slowly fading as the light of a new day began to creep over the horizon.
Taehyung shifted in Jeongguk’s arms, his gaze turning toward the horizon, watching as the first rays of sunlight broke through the darkness. For the first time in years, he felt a sense of peace. “It’s beautiful,” he whispered, his voice soft with wonder.
Jeongguk nodded, his gaze fixed on Taehyung, his heart full.
“Yeah,” he whispered back, his voice filled with awe. “It is.”
But he wasn’t talking about the sunrise.
The past was behind them now.
The village, the regrets, the mistakes—they were gone, left to fade into the shadows of memory.
The dawn of the new millennium washed over them, soft and tender, like the first breath after a long storm. The horizon glowed with the first light of day, chasing away the darkness that had clung to the night. There was a gentle quiet that settled around them, the world still and peaceful, as if it, too, had been waiting for this moment to begin anew.
Jeongguk and Taehyung stood side by side, their hands still intertwined, their fingers curled tightly together as though letting go would mean losing each other all over again. The cold air nipped at their skin, but they didn’t move. The warmth they found in each other was enough to hold back the chill.
For so long, Jeongguk had imagined this moment—finding Taehyung, standing beside him, breathing the same air. But this wasn’t a dream. This was real. They were real.
Taehyung broke the silence first. His voice was soft, almost hesitant, as if he were afraid that speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile peace between them. “I don’t know what happens next,” he admitted, his gaze still fixed on the horizon. His hand tightened in Jeongguk’s, as if he were grounding himself in that touch. “I’ve been trapped for so long… I don’t even know how to start again.”
Jeongguk turned to look at him, his heart swelling with a fierce, protective kind of love. He understood. He understood better than anyone what it felt like to be lost, to carry the weight of the past like a stone around your neck. But here, now, they had a chance to leave all of that behind. “You don’t have to know,” Jeongguk whispered, his voice low but steady. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”
Taehyung’s lips trembled, his gaze dropping to their joined hands. “Together.” The word tasted foreign on his tongue, as if he hadn’t allowed himself to believe in it for so long. But now, standing here with Jeongguk, feeling the warmth of his touch, the solid reality of him, Taehyung felt like maybe—just maybe—there was a future waiting for them. A future where they didn’t have to carry the weight of their regrets anymore.
“Do you think it’s that simple?” Taehyung’s voice was barely a whisper, his eyes filled with a kind of quiet fear. “Can we just… let it go?” He turned to Jeongguk then, searching his face for an answer, for something to hold onto.
Jeongguk’s eyes softened, and he squeezed Taehyung’s hand gently. “It won’t be easy,” he admitted, his voice quiet but firm. “We’ve both been holding onto so much for so long. But we don’t have to do it alone anymore. We don’t have to carry it by ourselves.”
His gaze softened even more, his heart full of a quiet, tender kind of love. “We’ve been through hell, Taehyung. But we made it out. And now, we have the chance to build something new. Something real.”
Taehyung’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears. For so long, he had been afraid—afraid of this exact moment. The moment where he would have to let go of everything he had known, everything he had clung to, even if it had hurt him. But here, with Jeongguk standing beside him, his hand warm and solid in his, Taehyung felt something he hadn’t felt in years.
Hope.
“I want that,” Taehyung whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. “I want to build something real with you. I’ve spent so long living in the past, I don’t want to waste any more time.” His voice broke slightly, his fingers tightening around Jeongguk’s. “I don’t want to lose you again.”
Jeongguk’s heart swelled, his chest tightening with the intensity of his emotions. “You won’t,” he promised, his voice steady and full of conviction. “I’m not going anywhere. Not ever again.” He lifted his free hand, brushing a lock of hair from Taehyung’s face, his touch gentle and tender. “We have a future now. And I’m going to spend the rest of my life making sure you know how much I love you.”
Taehyung’s breath caught in his throat. The vulnerability in Jeongguk’s words, the sincerity in his voice, was almost overwhelming. For so long, Taehyung had been afraid of letting himself believe in something good. Afraid that if he allowed himself to feel hope, it would be taken away from him.
But as he looked into Jeongguk’s eyes—eyes filled with love, with promises unspoken—Taehyung felt the last remnants of his fear melt away.
He took a deep breath, the cold air filling his lungs, and nodded. “Okay.” His voice was soft but resolute, filled with a newfound strength. “Okay. Let’s build something new. Together.”
And in that moment, it was as if the world around them shifted—like the past, with all its ghosts and regrets, had finally been laid to rest. The village was gone, the pain of their separation fading into a distant memory, and all that was left was the future. Their future.
“Come on,” Jeongguk said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he squeezed Taehyung’s hand. “Let’s go home.”
Taehyung hesitated for a moment, the word home sounding foreign and unfamiliar to him. He had been without a real home for so long, trapped in a place that wasn’t his, living in memories that had never let him move forward. But now, with Jeongguk by his side, home didn’t feel like a place anymore. It felt like him.
“Home,” Taehyung echoed, his voice soft, full of wonder. And for the first time in years, he felt like he could finally say the word without feeling the weight of the past crushing him. He had a home now. With Jeongguk.
Jeongguk smiled, and together, they began to walk, their steps slow but sure as they left the edge of the village behind, the path ahead of them open and filled with possibility. The sky above them was painted with the soft hues of dawn, the first light of a new year spilling over the horizon, and as they walked, the distant sounds of the city faded, leaving behind only the quiet of the morning.
“I can’t believe it’s really over,” Taehyung murmured, his voice barely audible in the stillness. His gaze lingered on the horizon, where the sun was just beginning to peek over the hills, casting everything in a warm, golden light. “It feels like I’ve been stuck in that village forever.”
Jeongguk nodded, his eyes fixed on the path ahead, though his mind was still filled with the weight of everything that had happened. “It’s strange, isn’t it?” he said quietly. “How time feels like it’s frozen when you’re stuck in the past. But now… it feels like we have all the time in the world.”
Taehyung smiled softly. The ache in his chest—the one that had been there for so long, that had become a part of him—had finally started to fade. He still felt it, lingering in the corners of his mind, but now it was something different. It wasn’t the same suffocating weight of regret and loss.
It was lighter, like a memory he could finally start to move past.
“We do,” he whispered, his voice full of quiet conviction. “We have time now.”
As the sun rose higher, casting long shadows behind them, the world felt new. The night was behind them, and with it, the fears, the regrets, the what-ifs that had kept them apart. And as they walked, side by side, their hands still intertwined, Jeongguk realized something he hadn’t allowed himself to believe for so long.
They were free.
Free from the past. Free from the pain. Free to build something new.
Jeongguk turned to Taehyung, his heart full, his voice soft but sure. “Happy New Year, Taehyung.”
Taehyung looked at him, his eyes shining with a quiet kind of joy, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Happy New Year, Jeongguk.”
And as the new year and the new millennium stretched out before them, filled with the promise of everything they had yet to build, they walked forward—together.