Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It's 2015.

Sungjae is twenty— barely an adult, yet already a successful idol, a promising actor, and an in-demand product endorser.

Sungjae is twenty— too young to be experiencing all this, but he's worked his ass off twice as hard as most people his age just to get here. So really, it shouldn't be a surprise to see him reaping what he spent the last three years sowing.

Sungjae is twenty— and he's probably, hopefully, only lived a quarter of his life. A lot of things could— and would— happen in another twenty years or so. It's fascinating and frightening at the same time— thinking of the unknown. All the possibilities could make or break him, but he is ready, nontheless. Well, he has to be. It's not like he has a choice.

"Whoa, Yook Sungjae! Long time no see!"

Has it really been that long, though? Sungjae was only gone for five days, off filming a drama in the idyllic island of Ganghwa. That's like, what, a blink in their line of work. So, Sungjae doesn't understand why Lee Changsub, without fail, acts like he's seeing him for the first time whenever he steps foot into their group's shared dorm. An eye-roll and an exasperated sigh are all Changsub gets from him. Seriously, five days don't warrant such dramatic reaction from the older.

"Your indifference won't work on me." Changsub teases, grinning from ear to ear as he pulls Sungjae into a tight embrace that could potentially crush his rib cage. Yet, Sungjae doesn't move— doesn't resist. He just lets Changsub suffocate him, too exhausted to argue about respecting one's personal space. "I know you missed me too, you brat!"

Now, that's a lie. If anything, Sungjae thoroughly enjoyed those five Changsub-free days the heavens had so generously granted him. No spontaneous hugs, no unfunny jokes, no boisterous laughter, no relentless button-pushing, and no heart-stopping jumpscares everytime he turned around and that face was shoved right into his own. In short, his life had the peace and quiet it desperately deserved because he was away from Changsub for a week.

"Hyung, are you done?" Sungjae asks, voice flat and unimpressed. The older immediately pulls away, still chuckling as he tries to smooth out the creases on Sungjae's dress shirt courtesy of his cuddle attack. And again, Sungjae just lets him. "Why are you even here? I thought you were going home?"

And by home, he means Suwon. He heard from their manager, Jintaek hyung, that Changsub had requested to spend Chuseok in his hometown with his family. Sungjae would love to do the same, but he already has prior commitments lined up for the holidays— things he can't back out of, unfortunately, just because he misses his parents.

"Yeah. I'm about to pack my stuff right now, actually." Changsub lifts the travel bag he's been carrying the whole time as proof. Sungjae blinks. He hadn't even noticed it. "But then I saw you and thought, hmm, might as well bother this ugly kid first! Hi, Sungjae-ya!"

Sungjae audibly sighs once more. Between him and Changsub, he's honestly not sure who the real hyung is. Technically, Changsub's older than him by four years, but he acts a lot like a kid— especially around him. This makes Sungjae wonder if Changsub stopped maturing altogether at fifteen. Heck, even Hyunsik— who's a year younger than Changsub— feels more like the adult one between them.

"Have a safe trip, then." Yawning, Sungjae ends the conversation. For the love of god, he has no energy left in him to keep humoring the older, so he turns and heads toward his room, leaving without another word. He doesn't care if what he just did is rude. All he craves right now is a long, uninterrupted sleep. He won't get that if he keeps entertaining Changsub and all his childish antics, right?

"Thank you! Good night, Yook Sungjae~" Changsub calls after him, pestering him with that annoying sing-song voice of his that somehow follows him even after he shuts the door to his room.

There are so many things wrong with that guy, Sungjae dares say, as he strips off his dress shirt and trousers, changing into something more comfortable before heading to bed. He doesn't know if he's the only one in the group who's peeved by the older's behavior— not that it requires serious police or psychiatric intervention or anything— but sometimes it really does get to a point.

See, Changsub might be the third oldest guy in BTOB, but most of the time, he's the first in line who needs supervision the most. The only times he functions like a normal person are when; A.) He's recording a song. B.) He's learning a choreography, and C.) He's fast asleep. Sungjae appreciates him most during the last one.

Don't even get him started on how clingy the older gets when the switches in his brain suddenly flip. One moment, Sungjae's minding his own business, then Changsub is plastered to his back the next, arms wrapped around him like a koala, nose on his business, too. To be fair, there's never been a time when the older's clinginess actually made him genuinely uncomfortable. Sungjae does it sometimes to Changsub, as well— that is, when he's in the mood.

And that's exactly the problem, isn't it? The older never seems to gauge whether Sungjae's in the mood or not. To Changsub, Sungjae is always up for playful banter or surprise cuddles whenever he feels like it. It's kind of absurd, to be honest, how the older still can't differentiate between impassive Sungjae and interested Sungjae. To think they met as Cube trainees when they were both still young (he was fourteen, Changsub eighteen). They've been working together as idols in the same group since 2012. How's it that they still don't know each other well? How's it that they still don't understand each other at all?

Crawling into his bed, Sungjae decides not to stress himself out over Changsub's eccentricity any further. It's never good to fall asleep worrying about things he can't control, anyway. If Lee Changsub is crazy, then so be it.

Besides, the warmth and softness of his mattress and duvet are more than enough to pull him away from whatever annoying thoughts a certain hyung left behind in his head.

Closing his eyes, Sungjae, at long last, succumbs to sleep after one hell of an exhausting week.

***

"You fucking idiot, are you trying to bring down the whole team with you? Dance properly! You're completely offbeat!"

"Just so you know, we've been at it for hours! Anyone's brain would turn to mush from dancing nonstop!"

"That sounds like a you problem! If you can't take this seriously, leave the team! We don't have the time to wait for your stupid ass to get the timing right!"

"Why do you keep calling me stupid—"

"Because you are!"

"You mothfucker! Say that again!"

It's May. Seoul is shifting from spring to summer, each day growing warmer than the last. Sungjae is currently sweating profusely, but it isn't caused by the rising humidity in the dance studio. His sweat is cold, coating his face, neck, and back like a thin blanket of ice, making him shiver. It's only been two weeks since he was officially added to Cube's upcoming boy group set to debut in two years. Sungjae thought he'd be working with people who are gentle and kind. He didn't expect to be lumped with... well, to put it simply, gangsters, at all. Will they even make it as a group if Hyunsik and Eunkwang are already one insult away from killing each other?

Terrified— he is fucking terrified by what he's witnessing as of the moment. It feels like a fistfight could break any second—

"Ya, newbie!"

Sungjae flinches, snapping his head to the right upon hearing that authoritative voice. It belongs to Lee Changsub, and there's so much hostility in his gaze that Sungjae starts to wonder if he's done something wrong again.

"M-Me?" He stammers, eyes roaming around like there might be another newbie in the room, trying his best to ignore the shouting match still going on across from him. 

"Come with me!"

Before Sungjae can even react, Changsub abruptly grabs him by the collar and roughly drags him toward the nearest toilet. For the first time in his life, he felt afraid. Is this it for him? Is he about to get his ass beaten in one of Cube's filthy toilets? He wants to fight back, to stop Lee Changsub from carrying out whatever morbid plans he has in store for him, but he finds himself suddenly voiceless— powerless— like his brain and body just shut down right when he needed it the most.

"You!" Changsub growls through gritted teeth after shoving him into the farthest cubicle, backing him against the wall before closing the door. "I'm going to be honest with you. I don't like you. I hate the idea of you being added to our group. You don't fit in here."

Those words could've stung, really, but Sungjae is too busy thinking what the hell warranted this animosity to even feel any ounce of offense. Where did that even come from? If anything, he should be the one saying those things to Changsub, not the other way around. He hates how overly strict the older gets during dance drills, acting like he's Cube's in-house choreographer or something. And for some reason, he always singles Sungjae out, scolding him in front of everyone the moment he does anything remotely wrong. Does Changsub expect a fourteen-days old trainee to nail a dance routine in one go? He must be dumber than he already looks.

So, instead of being wounded, Sungjae just stands there, waiting for Changsub to elaborate whatever nonsense he spewed in his face just now. This infuriates the older even more, though.

"Who do you think you're glowering at?" Snarling, Changsub presents a clenched fist at his face, eyes still glaring daggers at him. "What are you even doing here? Trying to be an idol with that lame dancing skills? Go home. You don't belong here."

If this guy punches him— Sungjae's sure it's going to happen any moment now— should he fight back? Should he punch Changsub, too? Because he definitely wouldn't just stand here and accept his fate. But, would he go to jail for it? He could claim that it was self-defense, right? This is insane. Still, Sungjae tightens his fist into a ball, ready to retaliate just in case Changsub lays a finger on him.

Which doesn't happen— because suddenly, the door to the cubicle bursts open, and the members quickly crowd in, yelling "It's a prank! Happy birthday, Yook Sungjae!" right in his ears. This includes Changsub, by the way. What the hell? So, everything was just a lie? Sungjae's eyes remain on the older, unclenching and clenching his fists as he lets Changsub ruffle his hair. There's still a trace of a taunting smirk etched on the older's face, and he's itching to wipe it off so bad— if only his tears didn't betray him first.

Sungjae releases a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding, causing the heavy weight in his chest to magically dissolve as he exhales. He hastily wipes his tears with the back of his hands, too embarrassed to admit how scared he'd been— too petrified for his life he completely forgot it was his birthday today. The hyungs around him collectively coo at his state, apologizing for scaring him.

And Lee Changsub, of all people, has the audacity to be the loudest, doting and fussing over him like he didn't just traumatize Sungjae with his Baeksang-worthy acting ten seconds ago. Sungjae still wants to punch him— and all these crazy guys— for fooling him like this. But, he's too touched to even throw a jab right now.

Is he even reacting the right way to all of this? Why is he happy that these lunatics pranked him on his birthday?

"Happy birthday to you~ Happy birthday, our Sungjae~ Happy birthday to you~"

A cake suddenly appears in front of him, and more tears stream down his face. He must look ridiculous as of the moment— sobbing just because his birthday was remembered and is being celebrated inside a cramped toilet cubicle by near-strangers he only met a few weeks ago. And yet, somehow, Sungjae is overwhelmingly grateful. Maybe these guys aren't the gangsters he thought they were, after all.

"Make a wish, Yook Sungjae!" Minhyuk grins as he holds the cake up his face, urging him even though the candle isn't lit. None of them probably remembered to bring a match or a lighter, but no matter. 

Sungjae closes his eyes, but he doesn't make a wish. Not really.

I can't believe I'm glad to be spending this day with them. Hopefully, this won't be the last.

He blows out the imaginary flames of the candle, and a wave of cheers and clapping fill the cubicle as he opens his eyes. Sungjae is just about to express his gratitude for the unconventional surprise his members pulled on him— when Changsub unceremoniously leans in and takes a huge bite out of his cake right in front of him— successfully rendering Sungjae speechless. The members howl in laughter— partly at Changsub's unpredictability, mostly at the look of sheer disbelief on Sungjae's face.

What is it with this guy? Why is it always him?

"Happy birthday, Yook Sungjae!" Changsub brightly yells at him, eyes crinkling like crescent moons, mouth open wide enough to see the half-chewed cake he just devoured without Sungjae's permission.

***

The next morning, Sungjae wakes up cranky despite having slept for ten full hours. He suspects it has something to do with the dream he had— about that time Changsub manhandled him into a toilet stall back when they were still aspiring trainees.

Why, out of all the good memories his brain could've replayed that night, why did it have to be the most embarrassing chapter of his teenage life? Why did it have to be him cornered and defenseless against Changsub? It's honestly humiliating, the way he acted so meek in the past. Had he known that Changsub wasn't actually the intimidating, hot-headed trainee he pretended to be back then, Sungjae wouldn't have frozen up like some dumb statue. He wouldn't have panicked, and Changsub probably wouldn't still be teasing him about it to this day either.

"I don't like you. I hate the idea of you being added to our group. You don't fit in here."

Sungjae scoffs as Changsub's words echo in his ears. Now that he's endured five years of the older's one hundred and one bizarre ways of showing affection— ranging from unprovoked shoulder slaps to late-night room visits just to check if he's eaten— he's convinced none of those things were ever true. In fact, Changsub must be feeling incredibly blessed to have ended up in the same group as him. Heck, he must be crying every night, thanking his ancestors for guiding him onto the path that led him to meet Sungjae in this lifetime.

Ha! Consider yourself lucky, Changsub hyung. What would your life be if I didn't show up?

Lee Changsub may be the most insufferable person to ever grace the Earth, but in all honesty and sincerity, he's not that bad. He's a weirdo— that's for sure— but he's also hilarious, hella talented, and surprisingly good at taking care of people, especially his dongsaengs. There's this oddly comforting and amusing aura he exudes that makes Sungjae unconsciously gravitate toward him (not that he'd ever admit that out loud), drawn to a warmth he can only seem to find in the older's company.

Which is why Changsub, and his ability to simultaneously lure and irk him, remains a big mystery to Sungjae. How is it possible to want to crumple someone's face so bad for teasing you, and yet, in the very same breath, want to keep that said someone— even his teasings— completely all to yourself? It doesn't make sense. It's far too complicated for his brain to comprehend, so he blames it all on Changsub and his utterly perplexing existence in his life instead.

Sungjae abruptly halts the train of thoughts parading in his head when he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror perched on top of his bedside table. He's smiling— grinning from ear to ear, to be exact. His eyes bright and sparkling like a kid who just walked into a candy shop. What the fuck? He immediately wipes the stupid expression off his face, schooling it into something more neutral. What's wrong with you? He scolds himself. Why are you beaming like an idiot while thinking of that ugly hyung? Isn't he supposed to be pissed off at Changsub for hijacking his dreams which effectively ruined his morning?

Right.

After half a day of basically rotting in bed, Sungjae finally drags himself out of his room with a scowl. The dorm is unusually quiet and empty. No Lee Changsub in sight (not that he's looking for him or anything), thank goodness. Only then does Sungjae remember that tomorrow is Chuseok, hence there's no single soul loitering in the living room at the moment. All the other members went back to their respective hometowns for a quick vacation, except for him, Peniel, and Eunkwang.

Peniel is out with his non-celebrity friends, though, so he isn't really around. This leaves Sungjae to share the whole place with their leader Eunkwang, who has a packed schedule this Chuseok, too.

"Oh, hi Sungjae!" Eunkwang greets him as soon as he sees him emerge from his room. "Do you have plans today?"

"I don't." He replies, grabbing a slice of pizza from the dining table before settling on the couch. "Why?"

"Wanna have coffee with me?" Eunkwang eagerly asks, eyes shining with excitement. "There's this café I've been meaning to visit today. The owner is my friend, and he swears their drinks are amazing because they use homegrown coffee beans."

"How is that news?"

"I know right? So, I told him, ʼYa, all coffees taste the sameʼ, and he got so offended! He said I should try theirs as soon as possible. And if I don't like it, he'll refund and double my money. That's how confident he is."

"Hyung." Sungjae's brows furrow as he continues munching on his pizza. "Since when were you a coffee connoisseur?"

"About an hour ago." Eunkwang shrugs his shoulders, ignoring Sungjae's teasing. "Anyway, are you in? Let's enjoy the free time we have before things get busy tomorrow. The café's pretty close, you know. It's just one stop from Myeongdong Station."

"Eh, I'm not really in the mood to go out today—"

"Okay, fine." The leader sighs dramatically, placing both hands on his hips as he gives Sungjae a long, blank stare. "My treat—"

"Well, of course, I'll go with you, Eunkwang hyung!" Grinning wickedly, Sungjae shoots up from the couch, brushing pizza crumbs off his hands before giving Eunkwang an enthusiastic smack on his shoulder. "You don't even need to ask! Let's go!"

"Open your wallet for me sometimes, Sungjae-ya."

"Can't hear you, hyung~"

***

Turns out, the café Eunkwang wants to visit is located inside Namsangol Hanok Village.

Sungjae doesn't know if Eunkwang enjoys being swarmed by people, or if he just forgot that he's actually a celebrity, but dude. As an idol who has gained a respectable amount of public recognition over the course of his career, Sungjae finds it insane that Eunkwang chose to swing by a public place when the whole nation is out for the holiday. And keep in mind, Namsangol Hanok Village isn't just another public place— it's literally a tourist fucking destination, thank you very much.

Now, aside from worrying about local sasaengs mobbing them, they've got to watch out for international ones, too. Great.

Don't get him wrong. Sungjae loves getting support from their fans, but sasaengs are a different breed. They don't respect privacy, personal space, or boundaries. Heck, they don't even see idols as human beings. To them, they're just mere puppets meant to be controlled for the rest of their lives. 

But it seems like the universe is on his side today, because the village is surprisingly deserted at the moment. Half of Seoul's population is probably busy preparing for Chuseok tomorrow, while the other half has likely returned to their hometowns to celebrate. A few tourist along with their guides are wandering the area, but aside from them, the place is practically empty.

Sungjae and Eunkwang are comfortably strolling through the traditional garden where towering trees and lush bushes in varying colors lovingly greet them. The cool spring wind brushes past them every now and then, providing a certain calm only nature can bring. And because they're enjoying the serenity of the place, Sungjae's phone decides to ring, shattering the tranquility encompassing them. He fishes out the loud device from his pocket, automatically rolling his eyes the moment he reads Changsub's name across the screen.

"Is that Changsub?" Eunkwang asks, correctly guessing based from his expression alone, chuckling at him. "Take it, Sungjae."

"What is it?" He grumbles as soon as he answers the call. "I don't have all the time in the world—"

"What? What are you talking about?" Changsub shoots back, sounding absolutely confused. "Why did you call me? I'm busy, Yook Sungjae."

"What are you talking about? You were the one who called me!" Sungjae argues, quickly glancing at his screen to check if this is some weird hallucination. But no, it's all real. "Hyung, I would never call you first. There's no universe wherein I would call you first—"

"Then hang the fuck up!" Changsub barks, and Sungjae can clearly picture the older's brows knitting in irritation on the other line. "My mom's already nagging me about these rice cakes! I don't need your clingy ass bugging me too—"

"Why would I cling to you? I only cling to pretty people!" Sungjae huffs, switching the phone to his other ear as Changsub floods him with a stream of curses. He's about to cuss the older back when something in Changsub's rant catches his attention. "Wait. Hyung, are you making songpyeon right now?"

"Yes, I am." Changsub answers right away, his voice suddenly soft and gentle, like he wasn't swearing at him just seconds ago. "Want some? I'll bring you a lot once I get back."

"Yes, but make sure it's red bean and not powdered sesame, okay?" He chirps, then he glances at Eunkwang who's grinning at him with a knowing look. Unfortunately, whatever Eunkwang's trying to pull on him isn't working. He's nowhere near as effective— not even half as infuriating— as Changsub. Still, the teasing look reminds Sungjae of how he's supposed to be acting right now. "Anyway, I'm outside getting coffee with Eunkwang hyung, so stop calling me."

"I told you I didn't call you!" Changsub snaps again, his indignant tone back in full force. For some unknown reason, it satisfies something in Sungjae. "I'm hanging up! Don't bother me again!"

The call cuts off before Sungjae can even argue that he's the one being bothered here, not the other way around. Sure, Changsub did say he was hanging up, but he could've at least let Sungjae say his piece first. Whatever. He frowns at his screen, imagining it's Changsub himself glaring back at him. "I really can't stand him."

"Do you?" Eunkwang nudges him, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Then why were you smiling the entire time?"

"I didn't smile." Sungjae denies the accusation with his whole chest, because he really didn't smile. He knows deep in his heart that he didn't. There's no logical reason for him to smile while talking to Changsub. None at all. So he starts walking again, leaving Eunkwang behind. "I was clearly annoyed by the call, Eunkwang hyung. But sure, go ahead. Believe whatever you want."

"Aww, you're so cute!" Eunkwang laughs, pinching his cheeks as soon as he catches up, doting on him like he's a five year old kid. "It's okay, Sungjae. Changsub will be back soon, alright? For now, just pretend you enjoy being with me."

Sungjae doesn't know— and frankly, he doesn't care— what Eunkwang means by that. He does think his leader needs to get checked, though. Because after that call, it feels like Eunkwang slipped into an alternate reality where Sungjae is secretly longing for Changsub, and now he's looking at him with the most tender, symphatetic motherly gaze— one Sungjae's never even seen on his own mother's face. It's quite concerning, to say the least, but he lets Eunkwang live in his delusions if that's what makes him happy. 

Not for long, though. They still need to get that coffee, and he reminds Eunkwang of exactly that.Thankfully, the older snaps out of it. He quickly tugs Sungjae by the arm, picking up their pace.

But it's impossible for Sungjae to enjoy the view of the traditional houses they're passing by with the way Eunkwang is dragging him. Did this guy suddenly become insanely strong, or did Sungjae just turn into a weakling? It's probably a mix of both. Still, Sungjae doesn't appreciate being manhandled like this (it reminds him of a specific time in the past, okay). But, does that even matter right now? The real question is, why is Eunkwang in a hurry?

Whatever the reason is, thanks to Eunkwang's sudden spike of urgency, they end up in front of Dalgang Café in no time.  

"What was the rush for, hyung?" Sungjae frowns, still miffed about being unjustly dragged, as he combs through his now unruly wind-swept hair. "Is the café about to close or something? It's only four in the afternoon."

"No." Eunkwang huffs, exhaustion evident on his face. "You were just walking so slow."

"We're supposed to walk slow." He points out, finding the response ridiculous. "This is a park, not a train station."

"Your walk is still too slow for a park." Eunkwang grins, poking fun at him one last time before disappearing into the café without waiting.

Sungjae doesn't mind. He's not that desperate for coffee anyway. Maybe he'll follow Eunkwang inside once he's done surveying the café's exterior and the area around it.

Taking a few steps away from the café, Sungjae lets his eyes feast on the breathtaking view of the village before him. Now that he has the time to truly see everything, he finally understands why Namsangol Hanok Village was once a favored vacation spot for aristocrats. It carries an enthralling beauty one would want to see over and over again.

Time seems to have stood still here. It's as if a chunk of Joseon Era refused to fade away and move forward with the rest of the world. Every inch of this place's nobility and tranquility is captured in great detail— like a picturesque landscape preserved in an important painting you'd only find hanging in a museum.

Sungjae, unaware that he's already reached one of the village's pavilions while sightseeing, suddenly stops in his tracks as he catches sight of the pond in front of him. The water is clear, so carefully maintained, that he can see his own reflection staring curiously back at him.

"Back in our day, there were all sorts of rumor about this pond."

The voice— deep and weary— comes from somewhere beside him. Sungjae quickly turns his head to the right, and there he sees an elderly man standing a few meters away, watching him with a small yet fond smile. He looks like your typical senior citizen— deeply lined face, small frame, a protruding beer belly, and fully white hair. He gives Sungjae a quick once-over before returning his gaze to the pond, smile broadening just a little wider.

"The place where the gods live." The old man continues, glancing at Sungjae to make sure he's all ears. "That's what they used to call this place during Joseon Dynasty. Do you know why?"

Sungjae shakes his head, feeling a little dumb for not knowing if this was something taught to them in school or not.

"Well, it definitely wasn't just because of its beauty. It was also because of the strange events tied to this place." Grandpa goes on, and there's a tinge of nostalgia in his voice, like he was once a witness to those very things himself. "This one's always fascinated me." He nods toward the still pond in front of them. "They say it can show you a glimpse of your future."

Show you a glimpse of your what? God, help him, but Sungjae nearly bursts out laughing at what he just heard. Still, he tries hard to keep a straight face. It's rude to laugh at elders— he knows that— but come on! What bullshit is this old man talking about?

Obviously, Grandpa's just making shit up to pass the time. He probably got too bored sitting at home, so now he comes to this village to tell absurd tales to unsuspecting strangers. Sungjae has a theory: these stories are meant specifically for tourists, banking on their interest with Korean culture just for fun. Too bad for the old man though, because the village is nearly empty today. No foreigners in sight (at least in this area), just Sungjae, so he has no choice but to bother a fellow local.

Or maybe— and this is worse than the first one— someone's filming a hidden-camera prank on him. Sungjae immediately scans his surroundings, eyes darting for any suspicious person or movement just in case this is all part of some elaborate production set-up. But he sees no one. Well, no one yet. Maybe they'll reveal themselves once he says something, or reacts in a way they find broadcast-worthy.

If that's the case, then he might as well play along.

"The future?" Sungjae asks a little too enthusiastically, just trying to sound genuinely interested in the pond's lore. He can't believe he's about to use some acting skills for this, damn. "How would that work? Seeing the future, I mean."

"Ah, of course you'd be curious," The old man chuckles knowingly, nodding to himself. "I used to be consumed by thoughts of the hereafter like you. It's... intriguing, isn't it?"

Damn, he didn't answer my question. "What did you do, haraboji? Did you try looking at it? What did you see?"

All of a sudden, Sungjae feels like the main character in a fantasy drama— a genre he likes consuming— but not like this. This one's too cringey, too poorly-written, for his liking. He's actually starting to regret his decision. What if he just drops the act and walk away? But his curious ass is keeping him rooted to the spot. He hates that a small part of him wants to see where this goes.

"Of course, I looked." Grandpa answers, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "But I didn't like what I saw. It didn't make sense at that time."

Yeah, just like this conversation. "Really? Then why do you look... happy? You just said you didn't like what you saw."

"Because it took this long for me to understand everything. I'm seventy, and it all just made sense to me now." The old man lets out a deep, amused laugh before shifting his gaze back to Sungjae. "Do you really wanna see your future, young man?"

"Yes." Sungjae replies with no hesitation, hoping that this silly conversation is about to end soon. "I want to see my future."

"Can you promise you won't try to change whatever you see?" Grandpa's tone turns serious, his eyes locking onto Sungjae as if he's searching his soul. After some time, he speaks again, his tone back to the casual friendly tone he had earlier. "It's not prohibited— just highly discouraged. You see, interfering with the universe's predestined plan for you doesn't end well sometimes."

"I don't have any plans to change what I'll see, I promise." Sungjae even raises his right hand for mock sincerity. Whoever's filming this prank must be laughing their asses off behind a bush somewhere. "Tell me, haraboji. What do I have to do to see my future?"

And then, silence. Only the rustle of the leaves and the gentle ripple of the pond, stirred by the gusty wind, can be heard. Once again, the old man fixes him an intense gaze, like he's figuring out his true intentions with utmost seriousness. Or maybe he just fell asleep with eyes open while standing, who knows. At this point, anything feels possible. Which makes Sungjae wonder... what if this were a real movie? Sungjae would probably rate it 1 out of 5 stars, mainly because he has no idea where the hell the plot is going.

Or, if this is a hidden camera prank, then they've completely missed the comedic timing to reveal the surprise. Or maybe he's the one who's off, and the crew will jump out and announce it's all a prank any second now, so Sungjae stays in character— curious, patient, and still playing along.

"Drop anything you own into the pond." Grandpa says at last, voice stern and deliberate. "Think of it as a small sacrifice for your request. Most people toss in coins, hairpins, rings— it's up to you. It just has to belong to you, and the pond will gladly accept it."

Sungjae looks back at the pond, eyes squinting past the surface. And yep, there they are— those very items Grandpa just mentioned— laying beneath the waters. One wouldn't easily notice those trinkets as they're too small to draw one's attention, but once given a good hard look, they can never be unseen again. Still, Sungjae finds it ridiculous. How can a mere coin show you the future? What a load of bull.

But then, he notices the sheer number of "offerings" the pond has accumulated over time, and a realization quickly dawns on him: a lot of people have fallen for the old man's it-will-show-your-future nonsense. Sungjae shakes his head internally, taking back his earlier amusement. This isn't funny. It's pollution— they're destroying nature— that's what they're doing.

"Yook Sungjae!"

That's unmistakably Eunkwang's voice calling him from a distance. Sungjae turns to find him, and sure enough— Eunkwang is walking towards him from the direction of Dalgang Café, with two take-out cups of iced coffee occupying his hands. Sungjae scratches an invisible itch on his neck, a sheepish smile forming on his lips. Damn, he completely forgot he was supposed to follow Eunkwang into the café— all because he got sidetracked by some senior citizen selling him a bedtime story. Good thing Eunkwang found him. Now he can finally escape from Grandpa and his fairytales.

"There you are! I waited for you! What are you touring yourself alone here for? I thought you were going to follow me?" Eunkwang nags, handing him the cup of coffee along with the disposable straw it came with— exactly what he promised earlier. "You didn't say what you wanted, so I just got you the same thing as mine."

"You could've called me." Sungjae mutters, accepting the drink with one hand, waving his phone to Eunkwang's face with the other. It's not that he's ungrateful for their leader's effort— he appreciates the gesture, really. But he's Yook Sungjae— and sometimes he just wants to act like a brat. "Thanks, hyung. What's this, though?"

"Iced vanilla latte."

It's not a flavor he particulary fancies, but he doesn't dislike it either. Personally, he prefers Iced Americano— specifically the one Changsub always gets for him— but this one will do.

Sungjae's just about to pick up the straw resting horizontally on top of the cup when another strong gust of wind blows past them, lifting the straw off the lid and sending it flying to the direction of the pond. For a split-second, time seems to slow down. Sungjae can only watch in horror as the straw spins through the air, before finally landing on the surface of the water with a soft plop.

Eunkwang loudly clicks his tongue, shaking his head in disapproval. "You're littering."

"I didn't! It was the wind—"

Sungjae would've kept defending himself if he weren't reminded of the strange old man and his equally strange story all of a sudden. He whips his head back to the spot where Grandpa had been standing right before Eunkwang arrived— but he's gone. Just poof! Completely vanished. Sungjae swears he was just right beside him. That man is seventy, right? There's no way he could've disappeared that fast. Sungjae scans the pavillion and the entire area surrounding the pond in mild panic, searching for any traces of Grandpa, but to no avail. That's odd.

"What are you looking for?" Eunkwang raises a brow, quickly catching on to his distracted behavior. "Who are you looking for?"

"N-Nothing." Sungjae eventually replies, eyes drifting back to the pond. What's the point of telling about the old man to Eunkwang, anyway? How would he even begin to describe the bizarreness of it all? Heck, Sungjae himself is puzzled enough. There's no need to give Eunkwang a headache, too.

"Well, if that's the case," Eunkwang says, giving him one last worried look before shrugging his shoulders off. He turns on his heels and heads towards the village's exit. "Let's go home, Sungjae. You know we both have to be up early tomorrow."

"Yes, hyung." Sungjae agrees, popping open the lid of his cup to finally take a sip. Too sweet. Before completely leaving, though, he glances back at the pond one last time, and he instantly freezes at the sight before him.

There it is, his straw— and it's fucking sinking.

He's no physics expert, but even he knows that's not scientifically possible. How can something as light as a straw sink into the water like that? Sungjae blinks slowly, almost in a trance. Is he still tired from work? Were ten hours of sleep not enough? Is this coffee that strong he's starting to hallucinate things?

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Sungjae finally walks away from the pond. He doesn't spare it another glance and quickly jogs to catch up with Eunkwang so they can walk together.

That's enough weirdness for today, he thinks.

***

Later that night, after Sungjae finishes showering and slipping into clean pyjamas, he receives a KakaoTalk message from Changsub. Sungjae rolls his eyes (it's muscle memory at this point), and swipes at his screen to read whatever nuisance the older has decided to send him this time.

Have you eaten, Sungjae-ya? Don't sleep on an empty stomach, okay?

If Changsub hadn't been treating him like this since forever, he might've mistaken it for a message from his mom. It's kind of hilarious— until it isn't— because Sungjae is once again reminded that Changsub is in Suwon right now. Not that the older is too far away from him or anything. No. Sungjae just doesn't find it funny that he's here working in Seoul while Changsub is resting in Suwon. Yeah, something like that.

This won't do. He shouldn't be the only one feeling uneasy right now. 

I ate a lot, thanks to you, hyung.

Huh? Why?

Because I was so happy I won't have to see your face for three days <3

Smirking, Sungjae waits for the older's response. If he strikes even one single nerve in Changsub tonight, that'll guarantee him a good night's sleep.

Is that so? I bet you're having the time of your life, Sungjae-ya. You don't care about your hyung suffering here in Suwon, right? ㅠㅠ

Yeah, I really don't ^^

He is indeed having the time of his life getting under Changsub's skin— right up until he reads the older's reply. Suddenly, it's his own skin crawling with irritation.

Well, the feeling is mutual ㅋㅋㅋ
Finally, three days without babysitting some ugly kid ㅋㅋㅋ
Ah, this feels so nice ㅋㅋㅋ

Babysit—? So all this time, that's what Changsub thought? Like watching over him was some kind of a chore? And here Sungjae thought he was doing it out of the pure goodness of his heart. The fuck? If only it were possible to slap someone through a phone screen, Sungjae would've done it without hesitation. Sure, he started the "fight," and he doesn't care if he's the one offended right now. There's just something about Changsub's choice of words that makes his blood boil.

Rot in Suwon, then. Don't ever come back to Seoul.

Don't say that, Sungjae-ya. You'll miss me ㅋㅋㅋ

Who do you think you are?

The last message Sungjae receives from Changsub that night is a string of cry-laugh emojis (plus one random middle finger), and that's when he decides not to reply, ending their conversation right then and there. He doesn't have any idea why he's this annoyed— so annoyed he wants to chase Changsub to Suwon just to punch him in the face. Sometimes, it amazes him how Changsub's ability to piss him off can transcend distance.

Will there ever come a time when Changsub doesn't get on his nerves anymore? God, Sungjae hopes so. 

Enough. He refuses to think about that guy now. With a sharp shake of his head, Sungjae lies down, pulls the duvet over himself, and sleeps.

***

Sungjae slowly opens his eyes, his body suspiciously heavy. There's a sharp pain in his head, like it was pierced with an arrow or something. A dull ache throbs in his chest as well, and he has no idea what might be causing it. As far as he can remember, he didn't drink last night because he has an early schedule this morning— Holy shit!

Feeling like someone just dumped a bucket of ice water on him, Sungjae abruptly sits up in bed, earning himself a jolt of back pain. What the hell happened to his body while he was asleep? But that's not the most important thing right now. My schedules! Sungjae's eyes snap to the digital clock on his bedside table, telling him that it's already four in the afternoon. Shit! Shit, shit, shit! He reaches for his phone, and more of his joints crack as he does so.

Damn it, he can't believe he overslept— on the day of a major product endorsement shoot he definitely shouldn't have skipped, no less. He grabs his phone (which feels off, though he can't quite tell why) to check for any important messages he might've missed while passed out, but one glaring detail on his homescreen makes him instantly pause.

There, right below the clock widget, in bold digits, is today's date.

Nah, that can't be right.

Sungjae rubs his eyes in sheer panic— maybe the light is just playing tricks on him. But when he looks again, the screen hasn't changed at all. It still displays the same numbers— the same date— the same year.

It's 2035.

Chapter Text

Sungjae scrambles out of the bed, ignoring how his head feels like it's splitting in half, and stumbles his way to the bathroom. He hurries toward the mirror above the sink (when did this get so... big?), panting while gripping the edges with such force that his knuckles turn dangerously white.

Then, with as much concentration as he can muster (or as much as his migraine will allow), he stares at his face in the oversized mirror— only to be disappointed to see... himself. Yeah, that's definitely him staring back at him, alright.

Well, what did he expect? Of course, it's him. And he still looks the same. Still the same Yook Sungjae.

But, wait. Hold on.

The longer and closer he watches himself, the more he finds little details that weren't there before. His face isn't as plump anymore— no more traces of those baby fat softening his features. If anything, he looks sharper, much more angular. His nose, cheeks, and jawline are all prominent now. And there are lines— subtle from afar, but clearly visible up close— around his eyes and mouth as well. Has he been smiling (or frowning?) so much for those lines to get that deep?

Sungjae's eyes shift to his hair next. It's still black, but a few gray strands peek out when he tries to part it. He then catches sight of his hands before slowly bringing them closer to his face, instantly noticing how much veinier they've become. His palms also feel rougher— more calloused— than he can remember. Sungjae anxiously looks up at the mirror, studying his appearance once again, and after some time, it clicks. Yes, the man looking back at him is indeed him, but he's definitely older.

Because this isn't what 20 year-old Sungjae looks like.

In utter disbelief, Sungjae exits the bathroom and returns to his bedroom. There, on top the bedside table, sits a desk calendar. He immediately grabs it— and fuck, it really says September 2035. Not 2015, but 2035. Holy fucking shit. The calendar slips from his shaky hands, landing on the tiled floor with a loud thud. Sungjae's knees wobble at the sound, his heart pounding violently in his chest. Is this... Did he... time travel to the future? 

A nervous laugh escapes him. No way. This doesn't make any sense.

"Do you really wanna see your future, young man?"

As if on cue, the old man's words echo in Sungjae's ears, followed by their whole conversation at one of the pavilions in Namsangol Hanok Village. It replays in his head like an old film reel— how the man suddenly spoke to him, how he told that strange story about the pond, how Sungjae had brushed it all off as nonsense, how a strong gust of wind blew his straw and carried it towards the water, and how the pond seemed to "devour" it like a hungry beast. He vividly remembers how Grandpa said that if you drop something you own into the pond, then you'd be given a chance to see your future...

Sungjae's eyes flick to the calendar on the floor, and a shiver quickly runs down his spine as soon as realization hits him.

Grandpa was telling the truth.

Something supernatural really happened to him after the pond took something he owned, and now he's in the year 2035— his future, twenty years later.

***

Sungjae is forty— a true adult by now. His physique, his age, his aching joints, they're all telling him that time has indeed passed in his life.

Sungjae is forty— and judging by the room around him, it seems like he's living independently now. This isn't the cramped, chaotic bedroom he owns in the BTOB vocal line dorm. This one's larger, sleeker, and speaks money. Curious, Sungjae steps toward the huge floor-to-ceiling glass window in front of him, slowly pulls back the black-out curtain, and almost shits himself in shock— fuck, he's way too high up in the sky! Does 40 year-old Sungjae live in a penthouse or something?

Sungjae is forty— and it's obvious in the rows of trophies and plaques lined up neatly on the shelves in his bedroom. Dozens of acting and singing recognitions from various award-giving bodies... only someone who's been in the industry for decades could rack up that many accolades. And that's insane. Who would've thought that he'd thrived— might still be thriving— in the industry at forty? Somehow, this discovery makes Sungjae relieved and thrilled at the same time. 

For some unknown reason, the first thought that crosses his mind after learning he's become an even more successful artist in the future... is to call Changsub.

However, as soon as the older enters his mind, the previously dull ache in his chest sharpens a little— like an invisible hand is gripping and twisting his guts in a nasty way, and it catches him off guard. Sungjae finds this weird. He hasn't felt anything this intense when it comes to Changsub, ever. Nah, must be a coincidence. Maybe his body's just fatigued from whatever his 40 year-old self did last night. Yeah, that might be it. Sungjae decides to ignore it. If it doesn't feel like he's dying, then he's probably fine. Besides, there are far more urgent matters he needs to do than worry about the burning in his chest right now.

Like the fact that he really, really, really wants to gloat.

Sungjae wants to flaunt all his achievements in Changsub's face. He wants to brag that he's living alone just fine, without the need for anyone to "babysit" him. But more than anything, he wants to know what became of 44 year-old Changsub. What's he doing? Where is he? Sungjae knows it's not a competition, but still, he's curious. Is Changsub living a life anything like his?

So, Sungjae heads back to the bed to retrieve his phone. Now that he's fully aware of his current situation, he finally understands why his phone feels slightly different. The gadget is definitely more advanced than what he had 20 years ago, but since his 40 year-old self knows how to use it and his current self doesn't, there's a weird sense of disconnect happening inside him. Anyway, Sungjae immediately searches his contact list to find Changsub's number— because he's certain that he still has the older's contact information twenty years later whether he likes it or not— to finally boast about his present-day status. 

And yet, he finds no Lee Changsub registered in his contacts.

"Huh?" His brows furrow in bewilderment. That doesn't make sense. "Where's he? Why can't I find him?"

He searches again. Perhaps he saved the older under a different name? Sungjae tries BTOB Changsub. Nothing. Changsub Hyung. Nothing. Ugly Annoying Hyung— still nothing. Sungjae pauses, genuinely confused now. Did he... finally go soft for the older after twenty years? The mere thought of it is cringey, but if he thinks about it, it's not entirely impossible. And so Sungjae tries Seobi Hyung, hoping it might be the one.

To his surprise, nothing comes up.

Okay, this is starting to bother Sungjae a little. Why is Changsub's number missing in his contacts? He even checked for everyone in BTOB, and all of their numbers are still saved. All of them... except Changsub. Why? Did 40 year-old Sungjae... delete Changsub's number? No way. He didn't. He knows he would never do such thing. Yes, the older drives him crazy most of the time, but to cut off contact with him entirely? Sungjae would never. He would never let it come to that point, period. It just doesn't make sense. 

There must be another way for him to reach Changsub. Sungjae scours the apps installed on his phone, searching for anything that might help, when his eyes immediately land on a cluster of social networking apps grouped together in one folder. Ah, yes. Of course. Surely, he's following his hyung on social media, right? 

No. He isn't. 

Instagram, Twitter, Facebook, Tiktok— name it. Yook Sungjae can't find any traces of Lee Changsub anywhere. Cold beads of sweat are starting to form on his forehead now. How could this happen? Does 44 year-old Changsub not have any SNS accounts? Does having an internet presence for people their age not common in 2035 anymore? Wait— what if Changsub blocked him on everything? Is that why he can't see him? Sungjae lets out a nervous laugh. That can't be right. He would never block Sungjae. Changsub adores him too much to even think of doing something like that.

Does he? Does Changsub still adore Sungjae even after twenty years?

Sungjae's not going to lie, he doesn't like where his thoughts are going. It feels wrong to be doubting Changsub's affection for him like this, like he's picking apart something that wasn't meant to be questioned in the first place. But he can't help it. Was everything they built together in the past... fragile? Fragile enough for Changsub to just throw it all away in the future? Sungjae bites his lips in nervousness, the sharp pain in his chest clawing at his insides more violently. Just thinking about the possibility of the older eventually growing tired of him makes him deeply uneasy.

No, this doesn't make sense.

Sungjae opens the Gallery app next. He lets his fingers move on their own while silently pleading to every god in existence to let this be the answer to his questions, otherwise he might actually go insane. When he reaches the Photos folder, Sungjae begins rummaging through every album, searching for any photo of him and Changsub together— just something, anything— to prove they still have some sort of connection in 2035. He scrolls and scrolls, inspecting each picture for any sign of the older. But by the time Sungjae reaches the year 2027, and still finding no traces of Lee Changsub, he finally stops.

He can't go any further than that, too scared to find out the exact year he stopped taking photos with the older. 

But from what he managed to skim, starting from 2035 down to 2027, Sungjae had taken photos with everyone— family, BTOB members, friends, colleagues, even people his 20 year-old self doesn't recognize yet. Literally everyone except Changsub. What the hell happened to them?

Did they fight? Did they get into a huge misunderstanding that caused them to detach from each other for good? Or did they just naturally fall apart? Did they wake up one day and decide they don't want anything to do with each other anymore? Sungjae has so many questions, and he's desperate to have them all answered as soon as possible. He just can't wrap his head around the thought of Changsub having no place in his future— like he's been wiped out of his life completely.

Curiosity, and honestly, fear envelop him.

Curiosity, because he's dying to know what prompted all this. What could've made Sungjae erase every bits and pieces of Changsub in his future, or vice versa? And fear, because something grave— something he can't turn back the time for— might've happened to the older without his knowledge, and it might be too late for him to regret everything.

But before anxiety completely overtakes him, a shrill ring from his phone breaks the silence of his room. Grateful for the distraction, Sungjae heaves a deep breath, calming his nerves as he checks who the caller might be. It's a name and number he doesn't recognize— but it says "Manager-nim" on the screen, so he quickly answers the call.

"Hello?" Sungjae cautiously greets, grimacing when he hears his own broken, hoarse voice. Damn, he had a rough night, alright. "M-Manager-nim?"

"Still alive, Sungjae?" The guy on the other line is his manager in this timeline. His tone exasperated, but definitely laced with a hint of concern, too. "Just to remind you, you drank too many bottles of soju yesterday. I'd be surprised if you say you're fine."

Ah, so that's what the headache is for. "My head is breaking in two." He replies truthfully. "I don't think I can go to work—"

"You have no schedules today. That's why you drank, remember?" His manager sounds even more done with him, the hint of concern from earlier now nonexistent. "Your liver needs a break, Yook Sungjae. You can't keep drowning yourself in alcohol every single time you get a day off. You're not young anymore."

Jeez. Did that just imply he's become an alcoholic? "Yeah, sorry about that." Sungjae mumbles. He has nothing else to say but an apology. "I'll watch my drinking from now on."

"That's what you said the last time, too. Seriously." A deep sigh echoes from the other end, followed by his manager shifting back to business tone. "Anyway, I just called to check on you. Take some ibuprofen, and stay away from any green bottles for a while, okay?"

"Okay." He replies, about to end the call— until an idea suddenly crosses his mind, making him audibly gasp. He needs to ask this before it totally slips away. "By the way, Manager-nim?  Do you know where Changsub hyung might be right now?"

"Who?" The manager asks, a little too loudly— and far too cluelessly for Sungjae's liking. "Who's that? Don't make me go looking for people now, Yook Sungjae. I've got enough on my plate already. I'm hanging up." 

To say that Sungjae isn't prepared for that answer is an understatement.

He's in total shock right now— brain malfunctioning, eyes open wide and unblinking, breath coming out in short gasps. The sharp pain in his chest grows sharper than ever— the invisible hand now turns into a knife, stabbing him over and over again, leaving open wounds for him to tend alone. Sungjae can't believe his ears. How could his current manager not know who Changsub is? Come on! Lee Changsub? The hyung who always followed Sungjae around like a shadow? Or— fine— the hyung Sungjae always looked for wherever he went? Are you seriously telling him his manager doesn't know that guy?

This is getting ridiculous. Is this really Sungjae's future? Isn't this just another bad dream? One of those he just needs to snap out of by pinching his arm— then boom! back to the present? That has to be it. Nothing seems impossible at this point. So, Sungjae, desperare to escape this nightmare, digs his nails into the skin of his forearm— hard— only to hiss in absolute pain as his flesh tears apart. Fuck! That's way too painful for a dream.

That only means one thing— this is all real. He didn't wake up and return to 2015. He's still here— stuck in 2035, inside the luxurious bedroom of his solo unit, frustrated and admittedly scared. 

But, no. He still needs answers. So, even though he's shaken by that phone call, Sungjae refuses to give up. There must be other ways to know where Changsub is, and if he has to figure it all out on his own, then so be it. 

Sungjae scans his contact list again, gazing at the numbers of his fellow BTOB members sans Changsub. Should he call them and ask? Out of everyone in his contacts, they're the ones more likely to know where Changsub is or what happened to him, right? Wasting no time, Sungjae starts calling, ringing each member one by one, hoping they aren't too busy to take his call.

No one answers. Shit.

Sungjae is about to yeet himself out of the window— because what the fuck is actually happening right now— when he finally receives a message from one of them. He opens it in a hurry, eyes immediately catching Eunkwang's name displayed at the topmost corner or the screen.

Hi Sungjae! It's been a while! Sorry I couldn't answer your call. I'm in the middle of an album recording right now. I'll call you back later, okay?

Two things— there are two things coursing through his body right now (three, if you count the persistent pain piercing his chest since he woke up).

One, relief. Sungjae is relieved that his stubbornness helped. Nothing has been answered yet, but knowing this might be a head start is somewhat reassuring. And two, dread. God he wishes he weren't feeling this, but here he is, whole body cold as ice as drastic scenarios play out in his head one after another. Sungjae hates that he's expecting the worst news to come his way, but his mind just won't stop spiraling.

Although it's hard, he still tries to spark some flicker of hope in his heart. Even if it's just a tiny ember, Sungjae will cling to it like his life depends on it. He'd rather put his faith in the strange but genuine connection they built over the past years, than imagine all the horrible scenarios why Changsub doesn't exist in his future any longer.

And so he waits for Eunkwang's call, because right now, that's all he can do.

***

The truth is... Sungjae can't stay still while waiting for Eunkwang to call him back. He feels like he's going to suffocate if he stays in his bedroom for another hour, trapped with thoughts concerning Changsub's current whereabouts. 

So, he quickly leaves his room and heads downstairs to the living room— only to stop in his tracks for a moment, startled by the sheer scale and luxury of his living area— no, of his entire unit. There's so much space, high-end furniture, and damn that breathtaking view of all Gangnam...  Sungjae would've taken more time to marvel at the grandiosity of his home, really— if only his mind isn't preoccupied with something else. Or rather, someone. Someone who vanished in his life into thin air.

Did Changsub even get the chance to set foot in this place?

Heaving a deep breath, Sungjae resumes his descent down the stairs, phone gripped tightly in his hand, as his feet lead him to the mini photowall tucked in the corner of his receiving area. Upon initial inspection, at least a hundred printed photos are pinned to a corkboard there, and his eyes instinctively search for Changsub's face. Maybe he's here, waiting for Sungjae to find him.

He carefully scans the prints, one by one, and once again he sees his family, friends, colleagues, BTOB members, a few unfamiliar faces— literally everyone but Changsub. The only souvenir he has with the older is a group photo from their debut stage on MCountdown in 2012. Aside from that— nothing.

Sungjae stares at the photo— at baby BTOB— and lets out a soft chuckle. It feels like just yesterday when they performed Insane for the first time. A fond smile touches his lips as memories come rushing back to him. They were all too young back then, holding on too many dreams, so eager to prove themselves to the industry. And now... and now Sungjae isn't even sure what happened to them. Do they still make music in 2035? Sungjae hopes so.

Then his sight zooms in on Changsub— rookie idol Changsub, 21 year-old Changsub, triumphantly smiling like he owned the world Changsub— and his chest excruciatingly burns all over again. Why is this the only photo he has of the older? Did they really not maintain the friendship? Why does 40 year-old Sungjae seem content with not having any of Changsub's silly faces ruining his photowall? It doesn't make sense.

With a heavy sigh, Sungjae tears his gaze away, turning from the wall and walking toward the ten-seater leather couch. But just as he's about to take a seat, his phone suddenly rings. He doesn't even bother checking the caller ID (he knows it's Eunkwang), and hurriedly answers the call. 

"Sungjae-ya!" Eunkwang's cheerful voice bursts through the speaker. "I'm finally done with recording! What's up? Why did you suddenly call?"

"I— I just wanted—"

"This is such a surprise!" Eunkwang interrupts him, seemingly giddy about something. "I know you're the busiest person in Korea right now, so I'm glad you found time to call me. Wah, our superstar Yook Sungjae! I've been wanting to get a hold of you for so long!"

Sungjae doesn't know how to respond to that, honestly. So, he clears his throat to fill the awkward air floating around them. "Yeah. How are you, Eunkwang hyung?"

"Oh, you know, same old. Getting ready for my anniversary album, planning the year-end concert, company meetings here and there." The older brightly replies. "The usual stuff."

Eunkwang, like him, still seems to be thriving in the industry at forty-five, judging by how full his hands are. Sungjae finds comfort in that, but his mind can't stop drifting back to the rest of the members. Do they share the same fate in their respective solo careers? How about Changsub? Does he make a good soloist? Does he still crack his voice when he sings on stage?

"What about you?" Eunkwang continues when Sungjae falls silent. "Jihoon hyung messaged me that you were drinking again last night. Is that why you called?"

Ah, so Jihoon is his manager's name? And it seems like Eunkwang has some sort of connection with him, given how quickly he got updated on his hangover situation. However, Sungjae has no intention of delving deeper into their relationship, because: 1) it'll sound suspicious, and 2) he doesn't really have time for any small talk at the moment. So, apologies to Eunkwang in advance if he ends up sounding dismissive.

"I'm okay, don't worry." Sungjae replies, clearly reffering to his headache. His sanity, however, is a different issue. Sungjae clears his throat once again, bracing himself for whatever Eunkwang might say next. "I called because— hey, Eunkwang hyung. Do you know where Changsub hyung is right now? I can't seem to reach him." 

There's a heavy pause on the other end of the line, and Sungjae doesn't know what to make of it. What's obvious though, is that Eunkwang is clearly caught off guard by his question. Why? What's so shocking about him looking for Changsub?

"Whoa." Eunkwang eventually blurts out in disbelief. "Am I hearing this right? You're asking about Changsub?"

"Yes...?" Sungjae confirms, confused by Eunkwang's reaction. "Do you know where he is?"

"No." Eunkwang answers quickly, and Sungjae's heart nearly drops at that— until the older adds: "At least not right now."

"Oh." Sungjae sighs, clutching his chest in relief. Changsub hyung is alive. He is still here, still around, still within reach— hopefully. Damn, why does it feel like he's gonna faint from all this? "Then, can I—"

"This is so weird." Eunkwang cuts in again, still evidently baffled. "I can't believe I'm hearing Changsub's name come out of your mouth again, Sungjae. It's been so long."

What? What is Eunkwang even talking about? Why is it surprising for him to mention Changsub's name now? "It's been so long." What is that supposed to mean? Did his future self go around pretending not to know who Changsub is? To the point that he stopped saying his name? Did he completely disassociate himself from the older? Instead of getting answers, Sungjae ends up with even more questions, and it's making his headache worse by the second.

"What are you talking about?" Sungjae exclaims, unable to keep the frustration from slipping out of him. "What did I do?"

"Ha! Look at this guy." There's laughter on the other end, but it doesn't sound amused at all. If anything, Eunkwang sounds perturbed. "Is this what alcohol does to a man? Chug a few bottles and develop amnesia?"

"I don't know what you mean, hyung—"

"You don't know?" Eunkwang gasps. "How could you forget something like that, Sungjae-ya?"

Sungjae is on the brink of screaming at the top of lungs, for real. Why can't the other just answer his question? Why is he treating Sungjae like he's some kind of a rotten excuse for a human being just because he can't remember what he did to Changsub— wait, stop.

He did something to Changsub? Sungjae himself is the reason for this whole mess?  The one behind this very dilemma he's facing? It's like another bucket of ice-cold water crashes over him, unceremoniously drowning him. What the fuck did his 40 year-old self do to Changsub for them to end up like this— like their paths had never even crossed in this lifetime?

"Well, I guess you really mean what you said back then..." Eunkwang continues lamenting, unaware of the turmoil rapidly brewing inside Sungjae. "...For you to forget everything that easily. Well, if that's the case... I think you have no business looking for Changsub anymore."

"What?!" His grip on the phone tightens as he relentlessly paces back and forth, unable to fathom how ridiculous it is for Eunkwang to prohibit him from seeing Changsub. "Why can't I meet him? Why can't I talk to Changsub hyung—"

"Didn't you say you never wanted to see his face ever again?" Eunkwang finally drops the bomb, knocking the breath out of his lungs in one blow. Sungjae immediately pauses mid-step, standing stiff in the middle of his living room like a statue. "You rejected him, didn't you? After Changsub confessed his feelings for you, you asked him to never talk to you again. That he ruined your friendship, so you had to cut him off for good— or something like that. That's how I remember it."

The pain in Sungjae's chest is at its sharpest now— like a sword is slashing through his heart over, and over, and over. Twisting, and turning, and plowing until he's left with nothing. Until the only feeling known to his body is agony.

"I... did all that?"

"Yes, you did." Eunkwang says matter-of-factly, inflicting more wounds on Sungjae's already ruptured heart. "It's only been five years, though. How could you easily forget something like that? Sungjae, seriously. I'm telling you. You need to stop drinking. It's messing up with your head—"

Five years? Future Sungjae hasn't seen Changsub for five fucking years? Is that why his chest burns as much a thought of the older crosses his mind? How long has he been dealing with this harrowing ache inside of him? How long has he been living with the reality of not having Changsub by his side because he chose to push him away?

"—and why do you even have that much alcohol stocked at home, anyway? I'd like to blame Changsub for this, but you'd probably just deny it— oh, sorry. You hate hearing his name, right? I'm gonna shut up now—"

"E-Eunkwang hyung," Sungjae mumbles, lifting his left hand and watching it tremble uncontrollably. "Can we... Can you tell me all of this in person?"

An audible sigh, and a few moments of pondering after, Eunkwang finally speaks.

"Okay. Meet me in the lobby in ten minutes. You really sound like you need some help."

***

"You look like a mess." Are Eunkwang's exact words the moment Sungjae settles himself at a table in his— and apparently Eunkwang's— condominium building's private lounge.

If Sungjae's surprised that the older lives just a couple of floors below him, he doesn't let it show. Eunkwang might find that strange. He can't give even the tiniest hint that the man currently speaking to him is actually the 20 year-old Sungjae from 2015, now occupying the body of his 40 year-old self. Not that Eunkwang would ever come up with something as absurd as that.

"Have you even eaten anything yet?" The other asks, examining his face and clucking his tongue in disapproval. "Is that why you're looking for Changsub? You want him to eat with you like you used to? He won't say yes to that, though."

"No, and no." Sungjae grunts at Eunkwang's questions, rubbing his hands all over his face in exhaustion. He hasn't done a single physical activity today for him to feel this way, but he's so fucking tired. Or maybe it's just his brain working nonstop— thinking of Changsub all day— that's worn him out. "And I know he won't say yes."

Sungjae isn't stupid (at least the 20 year-old one), because anyone who's been shunned by someone they "love" would never say yes to a sudden meal invitation, especially not after five damn years.

Right up to this moment, Sungjae still can't wrap his head around the idea that Changsub would fall in love with him in the future. Who would've thought that the infuriating guy who likes to get on Sungjae's nerves would harbor such feelings for him? What's worse is, Changsub must've fallen so hard— so helplessly— that he even risked their entire friendship just to confess his feelings for him. Just thinking about it makes Sungjae's heart bleed a fresh batch of liquid misery.

And 35 year-old Sungjae was such a jerk for cutting Changsub off completely just because of a confession. Why did he react so violently to that? Didn't he see it coming? Did he feel betrayed? Taken advantaged of? Disgusted? Fuck, Sungjae wants to throw up at the thoughts ricocheting in his mind right now. He doesn't want to believe that he could've felt those unpleasant things towards Changsub, because they're the last emotions the older would ever let him feel when they were together. Sungjae's certain of that.

"Of course he won't." Eunkwang agrees, nodding to himself. "Changsub values his peace as much as you value yours. It took him so long to live normally again, Sungjae. I hope you're not planning to disturb that just because you've suddenly decided you want things to go back to how they once were a long time ago."

From those words alone, Sungjae is convinced that something went terribly wrong with the way he thinks and feels in the future. Just how much pain did he inflict on Changsub for him to suffer for so long? If he could, Sungjae would really punch himself now.

"I didn't know... I had no idea that Changsub hyung... went through so much... all because of m-me..." He mumbles, looking at Eunkwang in horror as the gravity of 40 year-old Sungjae's past actions sink in. "I didn't know... I really didn't..."

"It's not your fault, Sungjae. It's not like you can force yourself to love Changsub back, right?" Eunkwang consoles him, giving him a gentle pat on his shoulder. "There's nothing you can you do if you don't feel the same, and Changsub understands and respects that. I just wish you'd handled rejecting him a bit better. But, well, what's done is done."

Sungjae could've chosen not to reject Changsub at all. He could've given him a chance. If he had, then maybe his chest wouldn't be aching this much.

"Even though you two never recovered your friendship, I'm glad you don't resent each other. Especially you, Sungjae. I thought you'd hate Changsub forever, but here you are." Eunkwang's voice stays steady, filling the silence coming from Sungjae. "You're probably late, but still, thank you for thinking about Changsub today. Thank you for looking for him. I'm relieved that you finally stopped pretending he doesn't exist. That's enough for me."

The whole fiasco must've been hell for Eunkwang too, Sungjae only realizes it now. As the leader of their group, watching two of his beloved members fall apart was definitely not something he'd prepared himself for. Sungjae's guilt doubles in no time. "I'm... s-sorry. I had no idea—"

"Stop saying sorry." Eunkwang laughs softly, his gaze warm with obvious fondness. "Five years have passed since then. I think we have all moved on from that time in our lives."

He would beg to disagree. Judging by the massive void gaping in 40 year-old Sungjae's heart, he doubts he's ever truly put Changsub's confession— or all the what could've beens— past behind him. No matter how hard he has tried— erasing Changsub's contact number, deleting every photo they ever took together, pretending he never existed— Sungjae knows the older's face, and every moment they shared, still linger at the back of his mind, tormenting him every waking hour of his life.

And the torment runs bone-deep, seeping through every crack, pressing down until it crushes his soul.

"Where is Changsub hyung now?" He asks Eunkwang, the need to know what happened to Changsub after what future Sungjae did grows stronger by the second. "Is he... doing well? I need to know if..."

If he's doing well without me. Is what he wants to say, but the words never leave his mouth. The thought of it is enough for him to forget how to speak.

"Oh, I don't know if I should tell you, Sungjae." Eunkwang lets out an audible sigh, giving him that motherly gaze that never seems to fade, not even after all these years. "But... Changsub does it sometimes, so I guess it's only fair. He's asked me about you a few times during my visits to Suwon."

"Suwon?"

"Yes. He's lives there now. Permanently." Eunkwang informs him. "But I won't give you his exact address, so don't ask me for it, please."

Sungjae's brow furrow. "That's quite far from here. He must've not gotten enough sleep every time he had to come to Seoul for schedules."

"He's retired, Sungjae. About five years ago."

As if it isn't ruined enough, Sungjae's world crumbles more at the revelation. Eunkwang must've seen the shock and devastation written all over his face, because his smile softens into the warmest, most comforting one he can offer.

"Don't worry. Changsub's passion for music didn't retire with him. You know the music academy he owns? Not only did it open its 12th branch here in Korea, he also opened one in Tokyo just last month. Plenty entertainment companies scout singers who trained in Changggo. Isn't that amazing? If you think about it, Changsub's still active in the music industry, just away from the spotlight now."

Lee Changsub— the guy who sacrifices his sleep just to perfect every note and every step before they have a comeback, the guy who possesses a voice unlike any other man in the world, the guy whose only dream is to become a renowned singer— has retired. All because of him. All because Sungjae told him he never wanted to see him again. Sungjae is the one who killed the dreamer in Changsub, and he will never forgive himself for it. Sungjae should die.

His heart shatters into a million bleeding pieces. How could Sungjae have even dared to think about showing off his achievements to Changsub earlier? How dare he feel relief that he's still thriving in the industry while Changsub ended his career because of his stupid, immature, egotistical ass? Sungjae should die.

Sungjae can't even take comfort in the fact that Changsub owns a music academy now. If anything, it makes everything worse. It feels like he built an entire world of his own just to make sure it never collides with Sungjae's again. And he hates it— hates that he isn't part of that said world. Sungjae should just die.

"He doesn't... sing anymore?" Sungjae murmurs, his shoulders slumping in despair. "Changsub hyung shouldn't have done that. He must've hated me." His eyes sting, and he quickly blinks the tears away. "I deserve it. Yeah, I bet he'll hate me for the rest of his life, and I deserve it."

"He never hated you. Not even when you rejected him." Eunkwang consoles him immediately, his voice patient and reassuring. "But I want you to know that he was hurt. Deeply. He was depressed for a year. There were times when he wouldn't let me speak to him. It was stressful, but I didn't mind. I needed to make sure that he was okay, you know? Thankfully, he trusted me enough to share things with me."

Sungjae feels like he should just drive a knife straight into his chest so he can finally end the destructive guilt gnawing at him. He wants to die, dive himself into the deepest pits of hell, and let the flames devour every fiber of his being until he's nothing but smoke. What kind of monster was he to put someone as kind as Changsub through all that torturous pain?

"And he recovered. Music helped him, Sungjae. Teaching music was a big part of his healing journey." Eunkwang goes on. "But he was never the same. Even after five years, Changsub still refuses to go to any group gatherings if he knows you'll be there. No one has the heart to trick him into attending, either. Not even Ilhoon. Changsub says he doesn't want you to feel uncomfortable, so he keeps his distance as much as possible."

Sungjae can't take this anymore. If he can't kill himself, then he has to at least apologize to Changsub— beg for his forgiveness even if it takes him a lifetime. This is a favor he'd gladly do for his 40 year-old self. It'll be five years late, but Changsub deserves to hear him say it. After everything the older has been through because of him, this is the least Sungjae can give him.

"Please let me apologize to Changsub hyung." Sungjae pleads, his voice shaking as he clutches Eunkwang's hands in desperation. "Let me see him, hyung. Let me take back everything I said to him that day. Please, Eunkwang hyung—just let me say sorry—"

"Calm down, Yook Sungjae." Eunkwang nervously chuckles, pulling his trapped hands free as his eyes dart around them, wary of drawing unwanted attention. "You don't need to apologize, okay? Changsub has already forgiven you, believe me. There's no need to do this. Changsub is living peacefully now. Let's not take that away from him, alright?"

Eunkwang has a point. Sungjae understands what he's trying to drill in his stupid, stubborn brain. And, okay, sure, he'll do it. He'll let Changsub live in peace. He'll let Changsub live a happy and contented life without him. He's nothing but a huge nuisance, after all. Changsub deserves to live a life free from the shackles of Sungjae's five-year resentment.

He knows that— he really does— but his heart, body, and soul scream otherwise. They long for Changsub. They ache for the sight of Changsub. Heck, even a glimpse of Changsub would do. It won't be enough— won't ever suffice the hunger— but it's all he's got. It's all he's allowed. And he needs Eunkwang to grant him the permission to see Changsub, or else he'll absolutely lose whatever's left in his sanity.

"Hyung— Eunkwang hyung," Sungjae doesn't care how pathetic he looks or how broken sounds right now. He just needs Eunkwang to see how desperate he is. Maybe he'll finally take pity on him. "At least let me see Changsub hyung, please? I won't talk to him. I won't even go near him. I just... I just wanna see him please? Just this once, Eunkwang hyung."

Eunkwang looks totally conflicted, torn between protecting Changsub and helping Sungjae. There's a lot of thinking, a lot of head shaking, until he finally exhales and speaks, tone as firm as ever:

"We'll just stay in the car and watch. No funny business, okay? Stand up. I'll drive you to Suwon."

***

The ride to Suwon is smooth. The atmosphere in the car, though? Not so much. Mostly because Sungjae can't stop spacing out, losing himself in a world where his future self didn't do what he did, leaving Eunkwang unintentionally ignored.

Thank god Eunkwang is kind. Kind enough to let him zone out, and kind enough to buy him a chicken sandwich and strawberry yogurt smoothie for his empty stomach. The gesture is highly appreciated, it's just that Sungjae has no appetite. After two small bites of the sandwich and a quick slurp of the smoothie, he sets the meal aside. There's no way he can enjoy eating after all the things Eunkwang spilled to him earlier.

Things concerning Changsub. Things Changsub could strangle him for, and Sungjae would gladly offer him his neck, no questions asked.

Sungjae gives himself one hour to brace his heart for seeing Changsub again, the exact time it takes to get from Seoul to Suwon, if traffic doesn't get in their way. Eunkwang looks quite worried behind the wheel, stealing glances at him every so often, probably debating whether bringing him to see Changsub is a good idea or a disaster waiting to happen. 

"Are you okay, Sungjae?" Eunkwang tries to engage in a conversation with him again. "We still have thirty minutes before we reach Suwon. I need you to pull yourself together."

"Yes, I'm fine." Sungjae easily lies. In reality, he's about to throw up any moment now. "I'm just... I'm thinking."

"Hey, don't worry too much." Eunkwang gently smiles, trying to lift his spirits up. "Changsub is doing really well now."

He really hopes so, because Changsub doesn't deserve to live in misery anymore. If there's anyone who should've been suffering, it's Sungjae.

The weather is perfect today— the sky is clear and the wind is breezy— as if the world is mocking Sungjae and the storm brewing inside him. Beside him, Eunkwang starts talking again, listing all the possible places in Suwon where they might spot Changsub. This time, Sungjae listens. He learns that the older might be at his favorite local coffee shop near his academy, or taking Guri (his pet beagle, would you believe) for a walk in a park near his house, or perhaps camping somewhere on the outskirts of Suwon. Eunkwang hopes it's not the third option, because if Changsub has gone camping, he wouldn't even know where to start looking.

From the sound of it, Sungjae concludes that Changsub is indeed living the peaceful life. And just like that, all thoughts of breaking his promise to Eunkwang— of not talking and going near Changsub— vanish into thin air. Sungjae can't find it in him to ruin the sanctuary Changsub struggled to built for himself. He can't hurt him again by suddenly showing up.

Sungjae finally admits defeat. He will really just content himself from looking at Changsub from afar.

And now, after what feels like both an eternity and a blink of an eye, they finally reach Suwon. It takes another ten minutes for Eunkwang to pull up in front of Changsub's music academy— Changggo. It's ten past seven in the evening, and Eunkwang guesses that Changsub is most likely done with his lessons right now.

Wiping the cold beads of sweat from his forehead, Sungjae then presses his face against Eunkwang's heavily tinted car window. His eyes carefully scan every passerby, scrutinizing their faces, trying to determine if any of them might be Changsub. Truth is, Sungjae has no idea what 44 year-old Changsub looks Iike. God, will he even be able to recognize him?

"I don't think he's here." Eunkwang says after ten minutes of waiting, a slight frown creasing his face. "Look, his employees are all coming out of the building. Maybe they're on a break— ya! That's Sihoon! Let's follow him!"

Before Sungjae can even ask who Sihoon is, Eunkwang is already steering the car after him, eyes sharp and unblinking. He seems certain that this guy will lead them to Changsub, so Sungjae keeps quiet and waits.

"Who's that man we're trailing?" Sungjae asks, eyes fixed on their target.

"Changsub's fellow mentor at Changggo." Eunkwang answers hastily, gaze locked on Sihoon as well. "If he's out here, then so is Changsub."

That makes sense. It isn't long before that Sihoon guy stops at a café and walks in like he's been there a thousand times.

"See, this is Changsub's favorite café I told you about!" Eunkwang exclaims, slapping him in the arm before pointing toward a small but definitely popular coffee shop in front of them in excitement. He switches off the engine, turning to look at Sungjae as if he just cracked a case. "This is it. I'm sure Changsub is here."

The pain in his chest makes its presence known once again, setting his heart on flame. Suddenly, everything feels too abrupt. Sungjae expected that they'd be combing through Suwon for hours— visiting café after café, scouring park after park, searching campsite after campsite— but no. Eunkwang thinks— confidently declares— that their quest is finally over, and Sungjae has got to believe him. Because between the two of them, Eunkwang now knows more about Changsub than he does. Sungjae tries not to be bitter about it. After all, it's his fault why it ended up that way. 

Again, it's all too sudden. It turns out, no matter how much time he gives himself to prepare his heart, he's still a fucking wreck. Sungjae thinks he isn't— and never will be— ready for this, but he has no choice. He has to do this scared. It's a punishment fitting for an asshole like him.

"Look! On your right!" Eunkwang hisses, smacking him on the arm more forcefully. "That's him!"

The world seems to stop the moment Sungjae finally lays his eyes on Changsub— the 44 year-old, future version of Lee Changsub. He's sitting at one of the cafés front row tables, a wall of glass shielding him from the outside.

"Changsub forgot to visit the hairdresser again." Eunkwang shakes his head while clucking his tongue in disapproval, though the fond curve of his lips quickly gives him away. "But that length kinda suits him, right Sungjae?"

Sungjae can only nod, his gaze locked on the man busy reading whatever report is on his laptop. The 44 year-old Changsub sports a medium-length hair now, its natural waves framing his face prefectly, curls almost brushing his shoulders. Changsub's face— oh dear lord— is almost exactly as he remembers: pale, chubby-cheeked, with the same round, endearing nose that crinkles depending on his mood. Only the thick prescription glasses are new, giving him an air of a responsible adult. It suits Changsub too well that Sungjae's chest tightens, ache spreading all throughout his body.

Changsub then tucks a few stray strands of hair behind his ear, and Sungjae's heart immediately drops to his stomach when his eyes fall on the older's right arm. The once beautifully inked skin is now a blank canvass— no traces of lines and curves that had once spread across it. It looks... normal. Just a plain, ordinary arm. No more of the tattoo Sungjae had always been fascinated by. When did he even remove it?

"He looks..." Sungjae breathes, his insides twisting and turning at the sight of future Changsub. "Different."

Sungjae feels like he's looking at Changsub and a stranger at the same time. Yes, that is definitely Lee Changsub— the hyung whose silly faces both annoy and amuse him to no end, whose boisterous laughter disrupts the peace of any room they're in, whose sudden bursts of energy exhaust the hell out of him. That's the Changsub Sungjae knows by heart.

However, this 44 year-old Changsub is none of those things.

Future Changsub doesn't smile as easily anymore— his eyes are sharp, brows slightly furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line. The warmth Sungjae once basked in is gone, and he's having a hard time accepting that. It's like looking at fireworks but without their spark.

Future Changsub doesn't laugh out loud anymore— Sihoon arrives at his table, and instead of returning the smile Sihoon's offering him, Changsub just nods his head in greeting. Sihoon doesn't seem to mind and begins telling Changsub a story, animated and probably funny as hell, judging by the way he keeps on chuckling. But Changsub doesn't laugh. He just listens— interested, possibly amused— but not one single chuckle comes out of him. This causes another wound to rip on Sungjae's battered heart. Will he ever see those adorable crescent moon eyes again?

Future Changsub doesn't bother people anymore— he just sits there, staying perfectly still, all ears to whatever Sihoon is saying. Changsub doesn't pull Sihoon into a hug, doesn't shove his face into Sihoon's own, doesn't mumble gibberish into Sihoon's ear— no attempts to get on Sihoon's nerves the way he always did with Sungjae at all. This isn't anything like the Changsub from 2015— so unlike the weird Changsub running all over the place for no reason. So unlike the playful, relentless Changsub who Sungjae eventually learned to get along and created a unique connection with.

This doesn't feel like Lee Changsub at all, because why is he so... calm?

"Oh." Eunkwang blurts, his hand repeatedly slapping his arm again, just as a man suddenly approaches Changsub and Sihoo's table. "Oh! Don't tell me—"

Sungjae doesn't understand why Eunkwang is suddenly giddy at the sight of the guy, but before he can even open his mouth to ask, his eyes widen in shock, because Changsub is smiling— and there go those crescent moon eyes Sungjae is talking about!

But he doesn't get to celebrate for long, because Sungjae quickly realizes that Changsub is beaming— not at him, but at the newcomer— all bright, and blinding, and fucking beautiful. Then the man— tall, tanned, and broad shouldered— bends down and kisses Changsub on the cheek. Both cheeks. The gesture instantly paints the older's cheeks a faint shade of crimson.

"Oh! My! God! Did you see that?!"

Eunkwang is shrieking like a hyena beside him, but Sungjae feels as if he's suddenly lost his ability to hear. No, scratch that. He thinks he's lost every sense he has upon witnessing that moment. All the bones in his body feel like they're breaking, one after another, pinning him to his seat as something nasty— something evil— builds in his chest.

This is the first time Sungjae has ever felt anything like this in his life—  like a powerful, violent force is clawing its way out of him, feeding every dark thought with a wrath that could harm and destroy— himself or someone else, he doesn't really know. What's worse is, Sungjae can't tell if the one feeling this dangerous emotion is his 40 year-old self or the 20 year-old him.

"Who's that guy?" He manages to choke out amidst the raging storm in his chest, eyes unconsciously glaring daggers at the man.

"That's Hyunseung, Changsub's personal gym trainer." Eunkwang quickly fills him in, his voice still laced with barely contained excitement. "And obviously his boyfriend now! Wow, I didn't know Changsub had already accepted Hyunseung's feelings! And it's about time, honestly! Ah, I'm so happy for Changsub! Look at him!"

Yes, Changsub indeed looks happy, judging by the way he smiles so sweetly whenever his eyes meet Hyunseung's. There's a lightness to him now— a carefree aura Sungjae hadn't noticed when he was drinking in the sight of him a while ago. Or maybe, it's Hyunseung who made him this unguarded, this at ease. 

And Sungjae wants to die— literally or figuratively, it doesn't matter. Anything just to stop the newly roused monster in his chest from completely taking over his entirety, he'll do it. He can't continue feeling this way— miserable, full of regret, and itching to skin someone alive using his bare hands. This is dangerous, and it's devouring him in no time. If this keeps going, sooner or later Sungjae knows he'll forget how to be human.

He finds himself staring again at Changsub, and at the way he offers his americano to his boyfriend so they can share. The softness in his smile, the sparkle in his eyes— Changsub looks at peace, and nothing suits him more than this. The monster inside him weeps.

As he watches the two of them get lost in their own little world, Sungjae realizes one thing: There's no point in debating what he should or shouldn't feel. Who does he think he is, inserting himself into the picture? Whether he's wretched beyond repair or quietly plotting a certain gym trainer's demise, nobody cares. He belongs to Changsub's past now— a painful memory he has successfully buried— and he will stay there for the rest of their lives.

Because Changsub is happy, and content, and very much in love with someone else now. That's all that really matters— Changsub, and only Changsub's well-being.

Every lingering feeling Sungjae still has for Changsub no longer holds any importance as of this very moment. It's over. It's all over now— for him, and for that tiny hope he never even realized existed in his heart.

***

The trip back to Seoul was quiet, and Sungjae was grateful for the temporary silence Eunkwang gave him during the entire ride.

Before they parted, Sungjae made sure to thank Eunkwang for granting his request. If it wasn't for him, he might not caught even a glimpse of what future Changsub looked like. Eunkwang just gave him a playful nudge with his elbow, assuring him that he'd always be free for Sungjae.

Tonight, sleep refuses to come to him. Usually, when he's tired, Sungjae just drops dead on his bed, and he's instantly in dreamland. But tonight is different. His body may be exhausted, yet his mind isn't. It keeps on looping and looping that scene at the café, each recall more vivid than the last. It's like stabbing himself over and over again, wounding his already bruised heart with more sorrow and regret. Sungjae heaves a deep sigh. Maybe it's time he accepts it— that he's going to live with this misery running through his veins forever, because he doubts he will ever recover from this.

Changsub hyung...

He doesn't know how the hell sleep found him last night, but somehow, it did. Because when he blinks awake, it's already bright outside.

Sungjae's gaze sweeps over his surroundings— the worn leather seats, the tight seatbealt across his chest, the faint smell of air freshener, the dark tint of the windows, and the unmistakable noise of his groupmates.

It dawns on him, right then and there, that he's back where he originally came from.

Once again, it's 2015.

Chapter Text

Last night, Sungjae went to sleep as a 40 year-old man. Today, he's back to the present as a 20 year-old boy.

He wakes up to music and laughter surrounding him, contrary to the defeaning silence that accompanied him last night before he fell asleep. To his right is Hyunsik, belting out R. Kelly's I Believe I Can Fly at the top of his lungs. In front of him is Eunkwang, fully dedicated to harmonizing with Hyunsik. Behind him are other group members he has yet to recognize, guffawing at a joke someone bravely delivered despite how lame it was. It's no secret that BTOB has a strong bond— that they get along ridiculously well— but they also have zero respect for anyone who is clearly resting from exhaustion.

Fans call it chemistry. Sungjae calls it audacity.

Still, thanks to all the noise, Sungjae finally wakes up from the really awful dream he had last night— except he knows it wasn't just a dream. Everything he saw, everything he felt, was real. Because if it weren't, then his chest wouldn't still hurt as if hundreds of flaming arrows had pierced through it.

Sungjae is still very much in pain from everything he learned and witnessed in the future. He thought those unpleasant feelings would leave him the moment he returned to the present, but he thought wrong. They're still here— dancing around his heart as if conducting a dark ritual, chanting over and over that twenty years from now, Changsub will be gone in his life for good.

Changsub hyung!

Jolting in his seat as soon as the older's face pops in his mind, Sungjae quickly turns his head to look behind him, searching for where Changsub might be seated, but he sees no sign of him. His heart drops to his stomach, panic clouding his mind as his eyes sweep across the van once more. Hyunsik seems to notice his distress, quickly cutting off his singing to look at him with concern.

"Yook Sungjae, you alright?" Hyunsik asks, his deep voice distracting him a little. "Are you looking for something?"

"Where's Changsub hyung?" Sungjae wastes no time in asking, his palms turning a bit sweaty. "Why is he not here?"

"He's outside buying us coffee. That hyung's never lucky with bets." Hyunsik says, chuckling as he shakes his head. "Why didn't you know— oh, yeah. You were asleep."  His smile fades a little when Sungjae remains restless. He then gives him a once-over, his concern doubling in no time. "Did you have a nightmare? Why do you look so... tense?"

"No. I'm okay." Sungjae lies effortlessly, exhaling in relief. Changsub hyung's still here. Thank goodness he's still here. He's not going to tell Hyunsik, or any member for that matter, what's really happening to him. They wouldn't understand a thing. Even he barely understands a fucking thing. So, before he can weird Hyunsik out completely, he unbuckles his seatbelt. "I'm going to Changsub hyung."

"Uh, okay." Hyunsik sends him off with a shrug, already turning back to sing with Eunkwang.

Nobody seems to mind him leaving, so Sungjae exits the van without a word. The harsh rays of the sun immediately blinds him. So, Sungjae squints against the light, surveying his surroundings for the coffee shop Changsub went— there he is!

There is Lee Changsub— 24 year-old, present day Lee Changsub— standing in the middle of the queue to the counter, waiting for his turn to order their coffees. Although he's not exactly in a coffee shop. Not really. It's a trailer truck converted into a mobile café, serving caffeinated and non caffeinated drinks along with a small selection of pastries.

Changsub is accompanied by their manager, Daegyeom hyung, who's saying something to him, probably a very funny story judging by the way he keeps chuckling as he speaks. Sungjae suddenly feels a chill run down his spine— a sharp sense of déjà vu hitting him as he continues staring at Changsub from across the road.

This is exactly how Sungjae saw Changsub in the future— except right now: A.) It's daylight B.) He isn't seated. C.) He's with their manager, and D.) He is laughing— all bright, and blinding, and fucking beautiful— right from the start.

Unlike his future self, the present Changsub is grinning and cackling at whatever their manager is telling him. His eyes curve into perfect crescent moons, his mouth wide open as he lets out pure, unrestrained laughter that startles a few customers around him. Despite the winding street between them, Sungjae can hear him so clearly— full, amused, and achingly familiar. Unable to stop it, the corner of his lips turn upwards at the sight in front of him. Changsub looks so much better like this— loud, expressive, and unapologetically himself. 

Then present Changsub bounces in place, brimming with excitement as he takes his turn telling a story. His hands are in the air, waving animatedly as he builds his tale, his face dancing right along with them. This is the Lee Changsub Sungjae knows, has grown used to, and will protect from now on. He can't let the older lose this spark— this fiery enthusiasm— to anything, or to anyone. Even if that anyone is Sungjae. Most especially if that anyone is Sungjae himself.

Filled with overflowing emotions his chest might actually explode, Sungjae finally crosses the street, each stride heavy with purpose— to get to Changsub as quickly as possible.

Soft gasps come out from the people in line as they watch him head to the direction of the coffee truck. All eyes are on him, but Sungjae only looks at Changsub— only seeks Changsub's attention. Speaking of him, the older breaks off mid-conversation with their manager upon noticing the small commotion, turning his head to see Sungjae coming his way. Surprise and confusion quickly flash across his face, but the smile stays— lips stretched into a wide grin, crescent moon eyes on full display. And Sungjae swears this blinds him more than the sun ever could.

Changsub's smile burns too brightly as if he holds every constellation in the universe in those eyes.

"Oh, Sungjae-ya!" Changsub eagerly calls out, raising his left hand to make his presence known (as if Sungjae isn't already aware). "Here, here!"

Without realizing it, his steps slow down when he notices how pleased Changsub looks to see him. The softness in his smile, the glow in his eyes... Sungjae can't believe Changsub is presenting these things to him instead of someone else. They're so easily offered, ready for Sungjae to claim, to keep all to himself.

And right now, Sungjae really, really, really wants to be selfish— even more than he already was before all this time travelling shit.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were napping in the car?" Changsub asks as soon as Sungjae reaches him, one hand tapping his shoulder. "Look at you, you're eyes are still swollen from sleep! Ah, how hideous!"

The older laughs at him, finding his appearance hilarious, but instead of feeling irritated, Sungjae finds himself staring at Changsub. His gaze linger on the older's face as if it's his first time seeing him— as if this is his first time meeting him. And Sungjae finds this strange, because this is Lee Changsub— the hyung he's been with as trainees since 2010. It's been five years since then, but everything suddenly feels new.

What's even stranger though, is that the more he drinks in the sight of Changsub, the harder his heart rattles in his rib cage, and the more the reckless urge to kiss him intensifies. Kiss...  Sungjae doesn't know why he's having these thoughts all of a sudden. Maybe it has something to do with what his 40 year-old self saw in the future. How that Hyunseung guy pecked Changsub on the cheeks, and how that gesture left him all repulsed, devastated, and utterly envious. Did he perhaps bring some fragments of those emotions with him back here?

Nah, Sungjae doesn't think so— and this is the strangest part— because his 20 year-old self would gladly kiss Changsub right now— on the mouth— in front of everyone— in broad fucking daylight— even without all the knowledge from his future.

"Earth to Yook Sungjae!" Changsub calls him, snapping his fingers in front of his face with a chuckle. "Are you actually sleeping with your eyes open right now?"

"Huh...?" He drawls, before Changsub's words and actions finally sink in, effectively snapping him out of his trance. "Ah, hyung. Changsub hyung."

"Speaking. So, what brings you here?" The older replies, raising his brows in a gentle query. "You should rest some more, you know? You've been working nonstop for the past three days."

Oh, so his trip to the future ate up three whole days in the present? That's literally the entire duration of Chuseok, though? And how did he even function when his consciousness was in the year 2035? Sungjae is lucky to have returned safely, for real, because this time travelling shit is confusing as hell. 

Wait, if three days have really passed, then Changsub must've just gotten back from Suwon, right? Which means, technically, this is his first time seeing the older again! Now Sungjae understands why he felt that way towards Changsub a while ago. Although, it might be too intense for just a three-day separation, wanting to kiss the older and all, but whatever.

"Sungjae, you should go back to the car, really." Changsub snaps his fingers in front of him again, his face now wearing a serious frown. "You keep spacing out, you punk. Go get more sleep. You're obviously still tired."

"I'm not." Sungjae denies, shaking his head like that will restart the wires in his brain or something. Truth is, he's here because he wants to be near Changsub, to make sure he's existing. But he can't exactly say that out loud, can he? So, he needs to make up another reason– one Changsub will actually believe. "I want coffee, too."

"No, you don't. Ugly people don't need coffee." Changsub playfully rolls his eyes at him. He then folds his arms across his chest when Sungjae gives him that calculated pleading, pitiful, puppy eyes. "I don't have money for another cup, Yook Sungjae. You were asleep when the bet was made. You don't count. Besides, you need to sleep more. You don't need coffee."

"But I want coffee. If you don't buy me coffee, I'm gonna drink yours." Sungjae threatens him like a child. When Changsub shakes his head in objection, Sungjae takes a deliberate step closer, invading the older's personal space. "I really mean it. I will really drink yours, hyung. I don't mind sharing."

"Well, I do." Changsub pushes him away, but not too hard. Not too far away, either. Just... far enough for their shoulders to still touch. "Okay, fine. I'll spend my hard earned money on you, Yook Sungjae. You better treat me nicely after this."

Instead of answering, Sungjae closes the distance between them once again, because standing side by side isn't close enough for him. Sungjae needs more. Sungjae needs to feel Changsub's presence even more, and he doesn't care if people around them are looking. Their manager's (when did he leave his spot? Why is he at the service window already?) here, anyway. He's good at handling small crowds to protect his artists, so Sungjae proceeds with his plan. This time, he moves behind the older, leaning his chest against his back and pinning all his weight onto Changsub.

"Ya! You're heavy!" Changsub grumbles, but he makes absolutely no move to push Sungjae away. He just stays still, accepting his fate as he pulls more cash from his wallet. "You like americano, right?"

"Yes." Sungjae answers, nodding against Changsub's shoulder. "Just like yours, hyung."

"Okay. Your wish is my command, you demanding brat."

Sungjae has a pretty clear idea of what he and Changsub must look like right now— in public, no less. Although, this part of Gangnam isn't particularly crowded, so there are fewer onlookers. Not that it matters. To hell with people, honestly. Whether they're alone or in front of the whole of South Korea, Sungjae doesn't give a damn. He's going to stay close to Changsub as much as possible— today, and tomorrow, and in the next ten years, and until they reach 2035, and even beyond that. Sungjae will make sure that he's going to be a part of Changsub's future, because that's the only future that makes the most sense to him. And if he isn't in it, then he will change it.

"Can you promise you won't try to change whatever you see? It's not prohibited— just highly discouraged. You see, interfering with the universe's predestined plan for you doesn't end well sometimes."

Apparently, the universe's predestined plan for him is to end up as a miserable man with an alcohol addiction, living alone and lonely in a penthouse, with no friends to come over because they're all busy, and regretting his life choices because he drove Lee Changsub away. Even if Grandpa warned him a thousand times about the possible consequences of rewriting his future, Sungjae would still do it. He would still change everything, because he refuses to live like that— with a massive void in his chest and regret draining his heart— twenty years from now.

Sungjae's already had a glimpse of what life would be like without Changsub in it. Letting that actually happen would be the most foolish thing he could ever do. 

***

After that quick coffee truck stopover, Sungjae, and the rest of BTOB, heads straight back to Cube Entertainment's building to record a few tracks for their upcoming album.

The ride back to the company is nothing out of the ordinary— still bursting with noise, laughter, and music. However, Sungjae is unusually quiet. If the hyungs notice this odd behavior, they let it pass, seemingly concluding that he's still too tired from working nonstop during Chuseok to function as a full-fledged silly BTOB member. Sungjae doesn't bother correcting them, because honestly, he's not really sure if he can converse properly with the current state of his being.

Things he saw in the future continue to haunt him, making him uneasy and sending fire surging through his chest all over again. Even with Changsub seated safely behind him, his duck-sounding laughter filling the entire car, Sungjae still feels as though he could disappear at any given moment. And he knows that's impossible. This isn't 2035. This is 2015, and Changsub is very much present in his life at this point in time. As subtle as possible, Sungjae turns his head to steal a quick glance of the older behind him. He just needs to make sure he's really there, alright.

And Changsub is still there— still safely seated, still laughing like a duck, still very much existing. Sungjae shifts his gaze back to the front, now pretending to browse something on his phone. In reality, he's just looking for ways to stop himself from asking Peniel to switch seats with him so he can finally relax beside Changsub. That would be too suspicious. He can't do that.

With a deep sigh, Sungjae realizes that seeing a sneak peek of his future feels more like a curse than a blessing, and that deciding to change what he saw doesn't really guatantee him success. Still, he remains optimistic, or at least tries to. 

It takes another hour of driving before they finally reach Cube Entertainment. As soon as everyone steps out of the van and makes their way toward the basement entrance, Sungjae instinctively sticks close to Changsub. No one finds this strange, except, of course, Changsub himself.

"Are you okay?" Changsub asks, his face contorting somewhere between amusement and genuine concern. "Or is this a hidden camera prank?"

"What, I'm literally just walking." Sungjae puts on a clueless act, casually draping an arm around Changsub's shoulders, eyes fixed straight ahead. "What would I even prank you for, hyung? You're so sensitive."

"Look at this punk. Ah, how annoying." Changsub just scoffs, his nose scrunching in mock irritation. "I already bought you coffee. What do you still want from me? Come on, just say it."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Sungjae chuckles, and oh, his chest suddenly feels so light, because Changsub looks downright endearing when he's being apprehensive like this. "Can't I walk beside you now?"

"Nah. You detinitely want something from me." Changsub reiterates, glancing up at Sungjae's flawlessly crafted blank expression. "It's the songpyeon, isn't it?"

Sungjae's brows knit in mild confusion at the older's words as he tries to make sense of what he just heard— until it finally clicks. Yes, how could he forget Changsub's promise to bring him the songpyeon he made during Chuseok! Even though it's not what Sungjae exactly wants from him (how is he supposed to say that he wants his attention and reassurance without sounding completely unhinged?), it'll do. As long as it helps him look and sound normal in front of Changsub and everyone, he'll take it.

"Right. Where's my songpyeon? Give me my songpyeon." Sungjae extends the palm of his free hand toward Changsub, his voice changing from casual to imperative in a second. "Did you bring them, or did you just lie to me—"

"Ya, I did!" Changsub swats his hand away, sounding a little too defensive for such simple matter. "It's at the dorm. I even put it in the very back of the fridge so no one would steal it from you. See? I kept my word even though you're always mean to me."

"Thanks, hyung." Sungjae tightens his grip on the older's shoulder, a wide grin playing upon his lips. "Let's eat it once we get home."

"Okay."

The album recording is going smoothly, with them able to finish a song in just one or two takes, thanks to everyone's voices being in top condition. Their producers seem pleased with their performances as well, noting how much they've improved since the last time they saw each other three months ago. And with only three songs left for them to record, they're almost free to call it a day.

Sungjae, along with Eunkwang and Hyunsik, sits on one of the couches outside the recording studio, his part already done. Now, he's just patiently waiting for Changsub to come out of the studio. From where he's seated, he can just make out the faint sound of the older's heavenly voice, and it instantly calms his restless nerves. It also pulls his thoughts away from 2035, and from the fear of Changsub suddenly vanishing in his life without a trace. He doesn't know how long he'll keep feeling anxious about the older's presence— or absence— or whatever it is.

What he does know is that, in this very moment, he needs Changsub within his reach, or he'll go insane.

"Yak~ Sok~ Hae~"

Speaking of Lee Changsub— there he is, strutting out of the recording room while belting his part of the song with over-the-top vocals and facial expression, making Eunkwang and Hyunsik chuckle in their seats. Sungjae, on the other hand, just watches at the older, waiting for their eyes to meet. The second they do, he immediately taps the empty space on the couch beside him, motioning for Changsub to sit there. 

"Ah, why!" Changsub groans loudly, throwing his head back as if he's exhausted from giving in to Sungjae's whims, stomping over with exaggerated reluctance. "What do you want from me again!"

"Nothing." Sungjae shrugs, acting like an innocent kid. "Can't you sit beside me anymore? You're that famous now, hyung?"

"You're so weird today." Changsub rolls his eyes again, impressively exasperated, yet he still obediently drops into the space right beside Sungjae. "Did you hit your head when you filmed that variety show two days ago?"

"I didn't. I'm not clumsy like you." Sungjae exhales, quickly dismissing whatever theory Changsub has about his sudden clinginess, because even he can't fully explain why he's doing this (lies!). "How did your part go? Is your throat still okay?"

"Got it in just two takes!" Changsub chuckles, sporting the most dramatically triumphant smile Sungjae has ever seen. "And my throat's fine, but I think I need to drink more water. Hyunsik gave me too many high lines again."

"Here, take mine. I haven't opened it yet." Sungjae twists off the cap and hands Changsub his water bottle, but instead of a thank you, he gets a side-eye. "What?"

"You're too nice to me today." Changsub narrows his eyes in suspicion, but he takes the water bottle, anyway. "Yook Sungjae, tell me the truth. What's gotten into you? Did a pastor ghost possess your body or something?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Sungjae feigns innocence once again, inching even closer to Changsub. Then, without really thinking about their surroundings, he lets his head fall onto the older's shoulder. "I've always been nice to you, hyung."

The sudden gesture immediately leaves Changsub in a state of shock. Sungjae even hears the way the older takes a deep breath, seemingly caught off guard by how he keeps closing the distance between them. Too bad Sungjae can't see what's written all over his face right now. Is he blushing? Damn, he'd give anything just to know if a move like this could make Changsub blush. Honestly, the thought alone— the very thought of Sungjae being the one behind Changsub's flustered state— causes the butterflies in his stomach to riot.

With his head propped against Changsub's shoulder, Sungjae comes to a quiet realization: He likes this. He likes being this close to Changsub. He likes them attached, their bodies pressed so tight a sheet of paper could barely pass through them. There's just an unexplainable comfort embracing him when he's in Changsub's personal space like this. In fact, he's so comfortable right now that he doesn't notice his limbs loosening, his breathing evening out, and his eyes already starting to droop.

"Ya, Yook Sungjae." Changsub whispers, his voice gentler now, though there's a hint of worry in there. "Are you okay?"

"Hmm." He hums in acknowledgement, snuggling even closer into Changsub's warmth.

"Are you not feeling well?" Changsub asks softly, pressing his palm to Sungjae's forehead. A quiet gasp escapes him, and his hand hurriedly slides to Sungjae's cheek, and then down to his neck. "Ya, you're so cold! Are you sure you're okay?"

"Hmm." Sungjae hums again, because really, he feels perfectly fine. As long as Changsub is right beside him, fussing over him like this, he's more than okay. "Probably just the air conditioner."

"They're overworking you." This time, it's Changsub who slips an arm around him, rubbing his back and arm as if he were something delicate. "Sorry for making you carry us on your back, Sungjae-ya. We'll make it up to you. I'm gonna make it up to you."

Sungjae doesn't know what Changsub is talking about. Nobody's carrying anyone on their back here. They're all working hard for BTOB's success in their own way.

But he isn't going to lie— he likes it when Changsub says he's going to make it up to him. For the record, he doesn't have to. There's absolutely no reason for the older to repay him for anything. Still, the idea of Changsub spoiling him, giving him his undivided attention, and spending time with him outside their schedule, feeds the selfish man in him. Sungjae knows it's wrong, but if an opportunity to keep Changsub all to himself presents itself in front of him like this— by no less than Lee Changsub himself— then he'll gladly take it. No ifs, no ands, no buts.

"Hmm." Sungjae hums once more, this time it's a pleased purr, as the corners of his lips curve upwards. He doesn't know if Changsub can see his expression from how they're seated, but Sungjae's certain that the older can feel it.

Sungjae stays glued to him for the entirety of their album recording, and Changsub doesn't question him about it again.

***

The pond in Namsangol Hanok Village is as pristine as ever.

Sungjae finds himself standing in the middle of the pavillion again, facing the calm pond with a bewildered expression. What is he doing here? Who brought him here without his permission? He scans the area, craning his neck to the right, then to the left, only to realize he's completely alone. The village is deserted— not a single local nor tourist in sight. Only the chirping of birds and the gentle rustle of the wind keep him company.

Do you want to take a look at your future?

A voice whispers against his ear, and Sungjae immediately jumps in place, eyes widening in fear. I don't want to see the future ever again! Sungjae declines, screaming with all his might but no voice comes out of his throat. Panic strikes him in an instant. Why can't he speak? If he can't produce even a single sound now, then how the hell is he supposed to refuse the mysterious voice? Sungjae needs to reject it quickly, because there's no way in hell he's going through that pain and regret all over again.

I can show it to you. You know what to do.

Shaking his head vehemently, Sungjae takes a tentative step backwards, stumbling a bit as he does. His heart pounds wildly against his chest, as if warning him of an impending disaster if he doesn't get out of here in any moment. Sungjae hurriedly turns around, ready to sprint his way out when it occurs to him that he doesn't even know where to go. That somehow, he's already forgotten how to navigate his way out of the village. This can't be. He needs someone to pick him up and get him away from this place as soon as possible. 

Changsub hyung!

The older's name is the first thing Sungjae's mind supplies. He doesn't know if it's the right answer to all of this, but the thought of Changsub rescuing him from this cursed place is the only thing that makes sense at the moment. So, with trembling fingers, Sungjae pulls his phone from his pocket, swipes the screen to unlock it, and frantically scrolls through his contact list to call Changsub for help.

But there's no Lee Changsub in there. Again. 

A violent scream rips at his throat, but still, no sound escapes out of Sungjae. The wind blows against his skin, cold and biting. No, this can't be happening. It's 2015. Changsub exists in every corner of his life in 2015.

You won't see him ever again.

Liar!

Sungjae, with a fury of a thousand suns, hurls his phone into the pond— its splash disturbing the calm surface of the water. He glares at the mocking, gentle waves it creates, like they're having fun toying with his life.

Give Changsub hyung back to me!

***

"Sungjae-ya."

Hearing that familiar gentle voice jolts Sungjae awake. His eyes snap open as he gasps for air, cold beads of sweat trickling down his forehead and neck, his heart hammering inside his chest like crazy. Relief, however, floods his system the instant his brain registers Changsub, whose face hovers above him. Damn, Sungjae hadn't even noticed he'd fallen asleep in the van on their way back to the dorm after wrapping up their album recording. And he must've been too deep in his slumber, because he didn't wake up even though his trip to dreamland had ended in a disaster. What a dream. Sungjae dwells internally.

It seems the ghosts of his future won't stop hunting him— even in his most comfortable sleep— even when he should feel safe with Changsub seated right beside him the entire way home. That dream had felt too real. Still, Sungjae reminds himself that's all it was— a dream. An absolutely terrible dream. The reality is this: Changsub is very much present here with him, right by his side.

"Are you alright?" The older asks, his eyes swimming with great worry. "Sorry, you were thrashing so much in your sleep I had to wake you."

"Oh." Sungjae exhales shakily, his chest still heaving. His eyes seek out Changsub's, and the warmth radiating from it gradually calms him down. But to answer the older's question, he might need to lie a little. "I'm fine, hyung. Just... exhausted. Yeah, probably."

"You are." Changsub clucks his tongue, shaking his head in concern as he takes in Sungjae's overall state. "I would've let you continue sleeping here and waited for you to be up, but you were clearly having a nightmare." He gives a small sigh, before motioning toward the dorm. "Come on, let's go inside so you can finally rest in your room. The others are already in."

Sungjae doesn't even realize they've already reached their group's shared dorm. Now that he's calmed down, he finally notices how real quiet everything around them is. That silence gives him the chance to dissect Changsub's words— how he was willing to stay in the van until he woke up, just so he wouldn't disturb his sleep. This is basically just Changsub being his usual caring self. Sungjae has been on the receiving end of that kindness a thousand times already, but this time feels different. It hits him in a way it never has before. Oh, how Sungjae wishes he could properly explain what it did to his heart just now.

"Sungjae. Yook Sungjae." Changsub soflty shakes him, the concern in his eyes now replaced with determination. "Stop zoning out, you brat. You're scaring me. Come, let's get you inside."

He lets Changsub pull him out of the car and guide him towards the dorm, too tired to argue that he can walk on his own. Not that he minds. There's just something nice about having Changsub's hand wrapped around his wrist while he tugs Sungjae here and there, making him momentarily forget the horrors of his dream. Come to think of it, Changsub really did come and rescue him from that nightmare.

"Take a hot shower, then go straight to bed. Don't play with your phone so you can sleep faster." Changsub orders once he drops him in front of his room, and Sungjae bites back the smile threatening to form on his lips. He doesn't want Changsub to see him like this— enjoying being taken care of— because he might bring up the "babysitting" thing again, which Sungjae now knows was a blatant lie. "Do you hear me, Sungjae? Will you do as I say?"

"Yes." He replies like an obedient puppy. "But, what about you? Are you going to sleep too, hyung?"

"Well, of course, you idiot. It's already one in the morning. We should've been asleep three hours ago." Changsub mutters, giving Sungjae a push towards the shared bathroom just beside his room. "No more talking now. Go and wash up."

Sungjae complies with Changsub's strict orders. He takes a nice, long, hot shower and it does immediate wonders for his system. The fog in his head clears, the knots in his back untangle themselves, and the heavy weight on his shoulders and chest lightens. When he's done, Sungjae slips into the most comfortable pair of pyjamas he can find, blow-dries his hair until it's soft and fluffy, and applies the necessary moisturizers and serums his skin craves after a long day. Sungjae feels like he's been reborn, and he needs to thank Changsub for it. Tomorrow will do, though. He doesn't want to bother the older at this hour.

Just as he's about to close his eyes to attempt falling asleep, his phone lights up and pings with a notification from a shopping app. 

Changsub had specifically told him not to do this, but he's Sungjae— a proud stubborn brat— so he does it anyway. Sungjae reaches for his phone on the bedside table, ignores the shopping app notification, and lets his fingers swipe and click automatically to his contact list. The reason, Sungjae knows exactly why: he's still bothered by the nightmare he had in the van earlier. Thank goodness, though, it isn't enough to throw him into a panic state again. He scrolls through the list until he finds what he's looking for— Changsub's number, sitting there safe and secure.

Who would've thought there would come a time when he'd delete the older's contact information— and every little thing that came along with him— just because...well...

Sungjae doesn't know the specific reason why his future self did all that, but here's what he's sure of: it was absurd. Downright monstrous. No wonder he'd turn out lost and miserable and pathetic. What kind of headspace would he have to be in to willingly screw things up a couple of decades from now? Still, no. He won't let it get that far. To prevent all the heartache and regret from ever happening in his life, Sungjae promises he'll do his best not to commit any similar mistakes, whether big or small,  here in the present.

"Yak~ Sok~ Hae~"

The older's soft singing voice cuts through the silence of the night, stopping the dam of thoughts flooding Sungjae's mind. Changsub's voice grows clearer, louder, as if he's singing just a few meters away, which may actually be true, because the bathroom door suddenly creaks open, signaling that someone is occupying it.

Scrambling out of bed, Sungjae dashes from his room to the bathroom in just a few strides, phone gripped tightly in his hand.

"Changsub hyung!"

The older, who's full concentration is fixed on the careful application of a facial mask on himself, suddenly flinches at his voice. His shoulders jerk, his eyes widen, one hand flies to clutch his chest, while the other keeps the mask from sliding off his face. Clearly, Changsub hadn't been expecting him.

"What the fuck, Yook Sungjae? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?!" The older half-screams at him, cautious not to make too much noise for the sleeping members' sake.

"Sorry." He apologizes, rubbing the back of his neck as a sheepish smile graces his lips. "Sorry, hyung. I didn't mean to scare you."

"I know. Just... try knocking next time." Having seemingly pulled himself together, Changsub lets out an audible sigh, facing the mirror again to fix his facial mask. "And why are you still awake? I told you to sleep. Rest. Stop playing with your phone."

He really was about to do that, but the moment he sensed that Changsub was only a few steps away from him, his body moved on its own— like one pole of a magnet drawn helplessly to its pair. And now, here he is, contemplating about asking Changsub something ridiculous, something no one should even be asking at this hour. Still, the urge wins out, because he knows his soul won't be at peace unless he hears what Changsub's answer to his question is.

"Do you have my number saved on your phone, hyung?" Sungjae blurts out, holding his phone up for emphasis. The words come out before he can stop them, surprising not only Changsub, but even himself. He knows the older will find him even weirder now, but he doesn't care. He needs to know.

Changsub slowly turns his head, giving him an unimpressed frown. "What kind of question is that? Of course I have your number saved on my phone. How else would I communicated with you all these years if I didn't have it?"

Yup, that's the answer Sungjae expected from the older, and yet, it only half-soothes him. His chest still feels unsettled, his mind still restless. He thinks he neeeds to reframe the question to get the answer he wants to hear. "Well, have you ever thought of deleting it? Ever?"

"No? Why would I do that?" Changsub doesn't even hesitate. His voice is firm, and he's looking at him like he's grown three heads. "You may be a piece of shit sometimes, but deleting your number? It never once crossed my mind. What's the point of doing that when we're literally in the same group? I'd still have to see your ugly face. I'd still have to interact with you. Deleting your number wouldn't save me from going through all that."

That's more like it.

"Right? So, don't ever wipe me off your contact list, okay? If you do, I'll tell your mom." Sungjae points a finger at Changsub, as if warning him. If this were any other hyung, he'd already be scolded for being rude. Good thing Changsub adores him. Sungjae knows he does. "And I'll do the same thing. No matter what happens, I won't delete your number either."

"Yeah? Okay, sure. Thanks." Changsub shoots him another wary look, like he's trying to figure out why he's acting like an idiot. "Even if you're always mean to me, I'll keep your number on my phone. Happy now?"

There's a different reply Sungjae has at the ready, but something in Changsub's response makes him hold his tongue for a moment. "Even if you're always mean to me..." Sungjae notices how Changsub always says that whenever he gives in to one of his whims, and it's starting to bother him a little. Okay, sure, Sungjae can be really, really, rude towards Changsub sometimes. Heck, he might've hurt his feelings by crossing the line sometimes, and honestly, he has no excuse for it other than him being an absolute brat. But, Sungjae swears he never truly means it.

Sungjae would never intentionally hurt Changsub.

If he comes off as "mean" to him, then he most likely just wants to get his attention. This might sound totally dramatic, but Sungjae feels like he'll get sick if Changsub's eyes aren't on him. He knows it's wrong, that there's a more proper and gentler way to do it, but that's how they've been rolling for years. It's hard breaking habits.

"Changsub hyung." Sungjae calls out, watching the older brush his teeth. "Whenever I try to push you away... you know it's all just an act, right?"

"Huh?" Changsub wonders, mouth full of toothpaste bubbles, one brow arching in confusion. "Well, if you say so."

"I'm just playing around when I act like that." Sungjae clarifies, partly to Changsub, and partly to himself, because most of the time, he really isn't aware of the reason why he does certain things. "So, no matter how much I try to push you away, don't take it to heart. Okay?"

Damn, Sungjae sounds so stupid— so childish— even to his own ears. This doesn't sound like him at all, but fuck it, he has to say it. He needs to make himself clear as early as possible, before Changsub gets the wrong idea. Before Changsub brands his actions as vile and stores them in his heart.

"You weirdo— ack!" The moment Changsub chuckles at him, he chokes on a mouthful of toothpaste foam. He immediately spits it out, rinses his mouth with tap water, and then turns back with one hand resting on his hip. "Ya, what's causing all this? That pastor ghost must still be possessing you—"

"I'm serious, hyung."

"Fine, fine." Changsub grins at his scowling face, his eyes forming into beautiful crescent moons again. "Anything else you want me to do for you, Yook Sungjae?"

Changsub only laughs harder at Sungjae's deepening frown. He's probably thinking that Sungjae's getting irked because he isn't taking him seriously— which is true, but that's only part of it. The real reason he's annoyed is because he's reminded yet again that some time in the future, Changsub will lose that endearing smile because of him. He'll eventually regain it, yes, but it will never be directed at Sungjae ever again. Someone else will get the privilege of summoning, and be the recipient of, that smile— and Sungjae doesn't like that. He despises that.

Suddenly, he feels that familiar pang rouse in his chest. It's just a dull ache, not the intense, unbearable kind that tortured him when he traveled to 2035, but still, it's there. And there's only one thing that can make it go away.

"C-Can you not look at other people... like that?" Sungjae requests, voice a little shaky but there is definitely a hint of threat in there.

"Like what?" Changsub is chuckling now, blissfully unaware of what his smile does to Sungjae.

"Like that." He points at the older's face, as if that alone could explain everything. Sungjae huffs, now frustrated at himself for failing to get his message across. "You know what, hyung? Just— just only look at me. Just only look at me like that."

"What?"

Changsub's laugh is at its loudest and hardest now, and Sungjae's sure the other two sleeping members might actually wake up from it. But how can he even think of chiding the older when he looks so pretty like this— head thrown back in genuine amusement, facial mask peeling at the edges, hands clutching his stomach for support, his duck-like laughter filling the entire bathroom. Even if Changsub is clearly making fun of him, Sungjae just can't. It feels illegal to block him from being happy.

"What are you talking about? Are you insane?" Changsub asks incredulously, wiping away the happy tears from the corners of his eyes. He's calmed down a little, but soft puffs of laughter still escape him every few seconds. "Be honest with me, Sungjae. You really hit your head when you filmed that Chuseok variety show, didn't you?"

"I told you I didn't." Sungjae grumbles, getting increasingly frustrated by the minute because Changsub refuses to take him seriously. "Hyung, really, can you just say yes? Is it hard to just say yes—"

"Say yes to what? That you want me to only look at you?" Changsub snorts, giving Sungjae the most irritating dismissive smile ever. "What are you, my boyfriend? Why would I only look at you? You're not even my type."

There goes Changsub and his infuriating choice of words again. Sungjae wants to scream his lungs out until the whole world hears him, for real. If only the two of them were alone in this dorm, Sungjae would probably be having an embarrassing breakdown right now. How can Changsub say those things so casually? So cruelly uttered as if they're real?

Oh.

Sungjae thinks he knows why. It's because Changsub doesn't have any idea that he will fall in love with Sungjae yet. Changsub can freely throw those words around because they don't exist to prove him wrong yet. And Changsub will continue to swallow every declaration he makes at this point in time, because his feelings for Sungjae haven't deepened yet. Sure, there might already be something there, pirouetting around his heart without his knowledge, but he's still too young— too naive— to recognize and comprehend it just yet. 

Yes, that might be it. Careless statements like these can be tossed around so easily because Changsub is still unaware of a lot things— things Sungjae has seen unfold right before his very eyes in the future.

Present-day Changsub has no idea how they will turn into complete strangers in the future. That Sungjae will rip his heart apart with his monster claws by discarding his feelings in the future. That Sungjae will push him into the edge of his sanity, leaving him in the dark for so long, in the future. That Sungjae will deeply regret watching Changsub walk away, even though he's all Sungjae has ever wanted in the future. The older will never understand the dread consuming Sungjae's whole being— the desperate need to set things right despite having no certainty that it will work— ever since the moment he returned from the future.

Why? Because he knows nothing about all of it— yet.

"Aigoo, look at you spacing out again." Changsub coos, gaze overly fond it contradicts his comment from a while ago. "You're probably too exhausted your body is simply giving up on you. Let's call it a day, shall we? You need to sleep now, Sungjae."

And since Changsub has no idea about the state of their future yet, Sungjae can only wait for the exact moment to come— the moment he can finally undo what his future self did. When that time arrives, he will make sure to do everything right.

"Twenty years from now..." Sungjae mumbles as he steps closer, his eyes fixed on Changsub and Changsub alone. The older's smile falters, giving way to a small, puzzled frown. It's Sungjae's turn to smile, lifting his right hand to brush aside a few stray strands of hair stuck to the older's facial mask.

"Twenty years from now, what?" Changsub repeats, his confusion deepening as he looks up at him. "What's gonna happen?"

"Nothing. Good night, hyung." Sungjae whispers, blinking playfully at the older. His fingers linger in the other's hair for a few seconds longer before finally letting go. "Let's eat the songpyeon you brought tomorrow, okay?"

"What the hell? Okay, sure." Changsub is still obviously baffled by Sungjae's unusual behavior, but he doesn't press any further. Instead, he taps Sungjae on the shoulder again, his touch gentle yet burning against his skin. "Go to sleep as soon as you lie down, alright? No more scrolling on your phone."

"Yes, hyung."

"Good night, you big weirdo." Changsub smiles at him one last time before finally stepping out of the bathroom. "Thanks for all your hardwork today. See you tomorrow, Sungjae-ya."

Leaning back against the tiled wall, Sungjae's eyes follow Changsub's retreating figure. He can't help but heave a deep sigh, his chest aching at the sight of the older's silhouette heading towards his own room, trying to fight the urge to call his name, or worse, to run after him for no apparent reason other than just because.

"Twenty years from now..." Sungjae watches as Changsub finally closes the door to his bedroom, and damn, he can't wait to see him again. "I will make things different."

The future seems so certain for him, but he doesn't like it. Not even one bit sits right with him. Will his plan to alter what's destined for him actually work? Can he stand his ground against the powerful force of the universe? Who knows? What matters is that he's going to try— and damn will he give it his all, every last piece of himself, just to succeed.

That's right.

Twenty years from now, Sungjae swears he'll never have to bear this pain in his chest every single time he thinks of or looks at Changsub. Because twenty years from now, Sungjae will make sure Changsub looks at him and him only— not out of possession, no— but in a way that leaves no room to search for anyone else no more, because Sungjae will already be there— waiting, and ready, and very much willing to accept him, and all the love he has for him.

Again, that's the future he wants, because that's the only one that makes the most sense.

Yook Sungjae wants his future to have Lee Changsub in it, because 20 year-old Sungjae doesn't want 40 year-old Sungjae living in utmost misery after driving Changsub away. He's seen himself make that grave mistake once, he'll make sure not to do it again.

And from now on, 20 year-old Sungjae will treasure 24 year-old Changsub in ways he still has to learn, in ways he needs to make sure will work, because Sungjae can't afford to lose someone as precious as Changsub. Never will he find another man like Changsub, he's sure of it.

Will there ever come a time when Changsub doesn't get on his nerves anymore? God, Sungjae hopes so.

Sungjae hopes god didn't listen to him that night. Or if he did, Sungjae would like to take it back.

Because the truth is, he wants Changsub to get on his nerves for the rest of his life, so help him, god.

***

20 years later...

Sungjae stands in the middle of the pavillion at Namsangol Hanok Village, once again facing the pond. It's his second visit this month— the only free time his hectic schedule has allowed him to spare. Last month, he came over five times, yet he still didn't catch the person he wanted to see and talk to the most. Honestly, Sungjae isn't even sure if he's alive at this point in time, but he keeps his hopes up. Something in his guts tell him that the man is just here, still lurking around the village, still telling tales about the wonders of this pond.

A gentle gust of wind blows past him, and Sungjae doesn't know why, but the breeze feels oddly familiar.

"We meet again, young man."

 A voice— not so deep as he remembers, but still very much weary— startles Sungjae. It comes from behind, and he quickly turns to see if his suspicions are correct.

And sure enough— tnere he is! The very same grandpa Sungae met here twenty years ago, standing right before him with a knowing glint in his eyes and a playful smile tugging at his lips. Grandpa looks even older now, his back bent and a wooden cane in hand, but he still carries the same mysterious, all-knowing aura he had two decades ago.

"Did you do as I told you?" Grandpa asks him, straight to the point, as if reading his mind, so certain of the reason why Sungjae has come here. "Did you let things be?"

"No." Sungjae replies truthfully, meeting the old man's inquisitive gaze without fear. "Because it didn't make sense."

"I see. So you interfered with the universe's plans for you." The old man nods to himself, giving Sungjae a once-over, his eyes lingering on his face. "And now? Does it make sense now? The outcome of your stubbornness?"

Sungjae holds the old man's gaze, unflinching, until a smile slowly spreads across his lips.

-END-