Chapter Text
Seongje notices two things as he comes to.
- A pounding headache making him wish for death
- A heavy weight crushing his chest
There's a steady stream of sunlight coming through the half pulled curtains over the windows on his left. Seongje groans as he blinks his eyes, trying to make sense of his surroundings. He tries to lift his hands, only to realise his entire left arm is numb. If the thing- person on top of him doesn't move right now.. He exhales and looks around at the nice walls, neatly arranged possessions and the warm bed under him, then confirms his suspicion.
Yeah, fuck, this is definitely not the shitty room inside the dingy motorbike place he last remembers being in.
Seongje tries to recall anything that might clue him in on how the fuck he ended up here, only to be assaulted by the splitting headache again. He was definitely sprawled on the makeshift bed at Daesung bikes as far as he can remember. He didn't have any plans of going out, too busy sulking in there with his poor wounded foot.
Or maybe he changed his mind and got black out drunk and ended up in a stranger's bed.. which doesn't sound right.
Whatever it is, first he needs to get the snoring lump off of him.
“Hey.”
Seongje looks down to get a proper look at the other, he couldn't see much -just a mop of soft brown hair and.. everything else covered by the blanket.
He sighs when he receives no response and shakes them a bit. Instead of moving away, the other mutters something inaudible and just snuggles closer, hugging him tighter.
Great. He just had to pick a clingy motherfucker to destress. Patience run thin, he snaps at the other using his working arm to shove harder.
“Yah. Get off me, damn it.”
The other grumbles some more nonsense, but finally twists away enough for him to shuffle out of the bed.
Seongje quickly eyes the bedside table for his glasses and thankfully finds it placed carelessly next to -he presumes- the other's. He slips them on and scans for his phone, all the while the headache kissing behind his eyes.
“Seongje?”
He pauses at the call and turns around. So he had given his name, and what might this guy's name be? He thinks about it for a second then decides he doesn't give a shit.
The other is sitting up now, lips puckered slightly and eyes barely open with their hair a mess. The boy looks a bit older than him, but Seongje couldn't be sure with how small he is. He also looks vaguely familiar, but that's all he can recall. He grudgingly thinks at least he picked a cute one to spend the night with.
“You're going somewhere?” The other continues, pulling Seongje's attention back as he realizes he is just standing there staring at the boy like a fucking idiot.
“Well, duh.” He replies simply. “Can’t stay in bed with you forever.”
Seongje doesn't do one night stands. It is definitely not his style. The couple of times he tried, they didn't even make it out the bar. Because where is the romance? Where is the passion, the thrill, the chase? He doesn't believe in the notion of pleasuring himself with just a single night. So just what did he see in this guy to break his norms?
The boy squints at him, but doesn't say anything. Seongje turns to the table again, poking at the five items on it.
“Where is my phone?” He asks the other as he starts pulling out the draws.
Seongje hears a faint rustling as the smaller shifts the blankets to look. After a moment he hands it over to Seongje, which he takes wordlessly and swipes open.
“No really, why are you up this early?” the boy questions through a yawn, which goes completely ignored.
Wait.
He tilts his head at his wallpaper. The picture is a bit blurry, but the smiling boy with dimples and glasses is one hundred percent not Seongje. He raises his head, looks at the other -now wearing the other pair of glasses he spotted on the table- and then back at the phone. He does this a couple of times, the other looking at him confused.
“What?”
“This is not mine.” Seongje shoves the phone back in the other's face, almost punching the guy's nose with it.
“Uh.. yes it is?” the boy says, looking at him weirdly and then gets off the bed coming to stand next to Seongje.
“The fuck you mean it’s mine? Clearly, it's your face on the damn screen!” Seongje snarks, a bit of frustration bleeding through his voice. “Who's the hippy looking nerd with glasses between the two of us?”
The boy bristles at that and shoots him a sour look.
“You are the one who insisted on keeping it when I told you not to, why are you insulting me over it now?!”
He did? Just what the hell happened yesterday?
Seongje almost forgets his headache, with how baffling this whole morning is turning out to be. Is he stuck in some weird dream? Is he still asleep?
Seongje is questioning his existence, when a gentle touch on his forehead startles him.
“Are you okay? I told you not to drink so much, Seongje.”
Seongje stills, momentarily stumped at the genuine worry in the tone and the warmth from the touch. Is this part of the one night stand culture? So the next morning goes like this? Is this the supposed appeal? He wonders, feeling strange, as the other continues muttering something about stupid bosses and team dinners. Seongje clears his throat and steps away scoffing. Worrying about a stranger? What a fucking joke.
“I am fine. Stop your fussing.” He clenches his jaw feeling ticked.
He's not done speaking when he feels a sharp tug on his ear, a very painful tug. Seongje is stunned into silence by the audacity of the action. Nobody dares to touch his face, much less pull his ear like he's a damn toddler.
“You dare give me this attitude, when it's your fault, hm.” The other hisses with a sharp glare and then starts dragging him by the ear like a fucking dog.
“Ow, fuck, yo-you.. shit! Let go!” Seongje yells, but has no choice other than to follow the boy if he doesn't want his ear to be torn off. He grabs the bastard's wrist and tries wringing it away, only to end up pulling his own ear and cursing in pain.
The shorter man stops at a door, opens it and then promptly shoves Seongje inside before closing it in his face.
Seongje clutches at his ear, trying to soothe the pain. Fucking hell, what if it had come off his head? He shudders at the mental image. He just lost a foot, he can't afford to lose another body part so soon. He glances down at his injured foot then, only to realize it has stopped aching. He frowns wondering how the hell it healed so fast.
“Clean yourself up and come outside, Seongje-yah. I will have your hangover soup ready!” He hears the little shit chirp at him and walk away from the door.
He heaves a sigh, thinking might as well. Then scowls at his own thoughts. Fuck, he should be giving a taste of his fists to the other, not listening to his orders like a puppy. He debates on marching out the door, beating the shit out of the guy, getting his phone back and then leaving this fucking place. Yeah, that's right. Decided, he pats himself down for his cigarette pack when he catches his reflection on the mirror.
He pauses, bracing himself with his hand on the sink and leaning over to get a good look. His usually messy hair that falls over his eyes is now cut neatly, barely reaching halfway down his forehead. And his face.. though the same looks more defined. Did he cut his hair last night? He is impulsive.. but what is this chopped ass monstrosity he has done to his hair?
He runs his fingers through his hair, turning his head this way and that way disgusted with his past self. That's when his eyes fall on his hands. His eyes widen and he brings it up to have a closer look. A simple band with a small stone in the middle, but obviously a wedding ring, shines on his finger.
Don't tell me..
He examines the ring for a moment, then lets out a derisive laugh.
“Ah, fuck me.”
Though, he has to admit despite the confusion, he is very much interested in the sudden turn of events. Fuck it, he's just going to roll with it for now.
He quickly washes his face and steps out. He stretches his hands above his head, rolling his neck a couple of times, then winces as his headache flares. He starts walking around, scanning the room. A big closet, a dressing table with various products arranged neatly, a bookstand filled with comics at the corner of the room and of course, the queen sized bed at the center. He comes to a stop at the bedside table again, snorting as he picks up the small frame he had missed earlier in his annoyance.
The person in the picture looks a bit different, but that's him, standing next to the guy from earlier. Seongje's in a black suit, uncharacteristically well put together and his hair is the same as he remembers, messy, but styled well in an artistic way. He stares at himself in the photo for a minute. It is him, he's sure of that, but there's something about the man in the picture that is making it hard for him to accept it is so.
“How fucking weird..” he whispers under his breath.
He's still in a daze, eyes locked onto himself, trying to figure out what is so unsettling about it, when the other guy walks into the room.
“Staring at this again?”
Seongje blinks a bit at that, shaking himself out of his thoughts.
“Well, I look handsome as fuck.” He answers, absentminded.
He hears an amused huff from the other which finally makes him tear his eyes away and look at the boy next to him. Seongje's throat goes dry and he forgets whatever sarcastic remark he was about to bite out. It's the exact image from the wallpaper, except the effect is a hundred times worse in person. Face open, big brown eyes gentle with warmth and lips curled upwards in a fondness unexpected from a stranger. This little bastard..
When was the last time someone ever looked at Seongje like that? Or when has anyone ever looked at Seongje like that?
One.
Two..
Seongje looks away first.
Fucking hell.
____
The dining table is filled with quiet noises of cutleries clinking and Seongje's obnoxious slurping. The soup tastes surprisingly good, even his headache is magically gone now. At least, the loser can cook.
Seongje observes everything around curiously. The house is modest but looks cozy and lived in with a nice couch facing the tv. Yet another bookshelf is pushed up against one corner with more comics and books. This guy is a total nerd it seems, he notes lazily. The kitchen though, is fancier and better equipped than he expected it to be. He's staring at the little pots stacked at the balcony when the other -he needs to get his damn name- speaks up.
“Are you feelin-?”
“What’s your name?” Seongje cuts in, staring at the other.
“W-what?” The other gives him a bewildered look.
Did he cast a spell on Seongje to trap him? Is he a witch? Seongje is not beyond believing in witchcraft. Honestly, he might be very intrigued if that's the case. Or more boringly, did he drug Seongje?
He sets his spoon down, facing the other taking in his concerned look. Look at this fucking loser, is he really worried about Seongje? Or is it an act? If they got married yesterday, does it make sense for this guy to care about Seongje this much?
Seongje lets out a noncommittal hum, drumming his fingers on the table. “Your name, little guy.”
“My name.” The other repeats, eyes narrowed in doubt. Seongje just picks up “his” phone humming and checks the time.
10:35 am.
It was around 6 pm last evening, when he crashed at Daesung bikes. So in roughly 17 hours, he got drunk out of his mind, cut his hair, met a guy, felt interested enough to not only fuck him but also exchange wedding rings in full suit and got it framed in picture as well. Sounds insane and absolutely impossible, even for someone like him. It's like he jumped straight into a shitty drama. He chuckles at the absurdity of this all
The boy raises an eyebrow at him questioningly.
“This is so fucking funny.” Seongje answers, waving a hand dismissively. “To think that a day ago I was a free man. Now I have a cute nerdy wife.” Then he starts giggling, unable to control himself.
That only makes the other guy look at him alarmed, his brows furrowing, lips downturned in thought.
Seongje quiets down a bit then, “Hey, don't look so worried, little guy.” He picks up his spoon again, sipping his soup and looks at him amused, “You are worried about this, right?” He lifts his hand up, waving it in front of the other. “Let's just pretend this never happened. It's not even legal, ya know.”
The shorter looks like he's over Seongje's nonsense and starts talking through gritted teeth, “What the fuck are you talking about? Pretend like what never happened? Are you serious? We have been married for a year now, Seongje. Legally.”
Huh.
Clearly, Seongje would know if he had been married for a whole fucking year. Right?
The other glares at him seemingly not done yet, “Are you trying to rile me up on purpose? You have been acting weird since waking up. Seriously, what the hell did you drink at dinner yesterday?”
Fuck if Seongje knows. He thought he had the situation figured out. But apparently the fuck not.
His skin buzzes as a wild thought crosses his mind. He scrolls through his phone, opening up the calendar. As soon as he sees the date, he curses.
14 April, 2031.
Everything makes sense to Seongje now, well not entirely. But it explains certain things. Like his changed appearance, his healed foot, and most importantly the guy sitting in front of him. His husband.
Oh, man, this just got infinitely more interesting. Rationally, Seongje should be scared, he should be losing his fucking mind over the fact he is stranded in a weird alternate universe or something, but unfortunately Seongje is an irrational, crazy motherfucker.
So, he looks at the other, dead in his eyes smiling widely and announces. “Little guy.. I think I just travelled to the fucking future.”
“What?” The poor guy looks at Seongje like he's lost his marbles.
“Or you just kidnapped me and are playing a mean prank on me.” He leans forward to whisper at him and grins like this is the best thing ever happened to him. The other just balks at him, mouth open in disbelief. Seongje relishes at the multitude of expressions crossing the other's face, as he must have drawn some conclusions of his own as well.
“You are yet to give me your name, dear husband.” Seongje asks, the deranged smile still on his face.
His little husband looks like he's having a stroke, but still manages to croak out, “J-juntae.. Seo Juntae.”
Seo Juntae.. where has he heard that name before. Seongje thinks hard for a moment, then it clocks him as he takes in the plump cheeks, pouty lips and those wired glasses.
Oh.
Oh, this is going to be fun.