Chapter Text
Lu Han's been accused of being empty-headed before - by his friends, in jest; by his father, in all seriousness. The accusation has always slid off him, because it's not true.
At least, it never used to be. Nothing describes his head so well as the word 'empty' right now. Wide, open spaces, where there used to be a whole crowd of other selves, other lives, all being lived at once and clamouring for his attention. He never thought he'd miss them, the way they crept around the edges of his consciousness, each one willing to step up for its turn in the spotlight if he'd only let it in.
But he does.
He'd been able to ignore it in the chaos that had followed their return to the Highwind, since the only thing any of them could spare a thought for at the time was getting rid of all the monsters, but the battle's over now and the emptiness is practically screaming at him. The only thing louder is Jongin fussing over him.
"Are you sure you don't want anything for your side?" Jongin asks again. It had been cute, the first two or three times, but enough is enough.
"They're just bruises," Lu Han says, fighting to keep the irritation from his voice since he knows Jongin's only doing this because he cares. "Not holes. I'm not about to die on you, I promise."
He thinks they all emerged from the battle fairly well, under the circumstances. Only Chanyeol had suffered major injury, a situation Yixing's new materia had remedied; the rest of them had merely come out exhausted in various flavours of battered and bruised. While they're up in the air, looking for a safer place to land and make repairs, everyone who can is taking advantage of the time to rest.
And since they're airborne, Lu Han's not setting foot outside Jongin's cabin if he can help it. Or their cabin now, really, since he sees no reason to go find another one for himself. The bed's not massive, but they know from last night that they can both fit without too much discomfort. It's not as though they're going to be moving around much. He feels like he could sleep for a week, which means Jongin probably feels like he could sleep for a year.
That suits Lu Han just fine. They can curl up together on the bed and go to sleep, and Lu Han won't have to be alone.
"But you could now, couldn't you?" Jongin says, clearly unhappy. "Die, I mean. Just like the rest of us."
"I probably always could have." Lu Han never has, and he's not sure what would've happened if one of his bodies had died, but he's content not knowing. "It doesn't matter now."
"Of course it matters! Because now you have to be careful, and you're never careful, and-"
Lu Han cuts him off. "We're running out of time to be careful."
"You can't save the world if you're dead," Jongin says, stubbornly, and Lu Han thinks that's kind of unfair, given Sehun's situation.
Not that the rest of them aren't in a similar situation, really, given that they now have their memories back. The extra memories aren't quite intrusive enough to compensate for the lack of selves - they have a different, completed quality about them. The past is over, and each time he dredges up a little piece of it, it's with the knowledge that he's not that person anymore and there's nowhere left for that person to go.
His other selves, however... They're all who he is now - or they were, before they were silenced. He is all the bodies he's ever had, with all their experiences. All the monsters they'd fought, all the people they'd met. All the places they'd explored. He'd soaked up each new experience like a sponge, taking it into himself and knowing that he wasn't yet done, that there was more still to come. He wasn't finished.
This body isn't finished either, but oh, he can't keep himself from thinking of it as just one of many, no matter how ridiculous it seems now. There are no other Lu Hans and this is all he's got left - himself. The real thing, here in person. His own body, reaching out to clasp Jongin's hand for the first time. Everything is for the first time. His first real fight (trading punches with his classmates back in Deling City doesn't count) and his first real kiss (once he's had some sleep, because his vision's so blurry at the moment that he's likely to miss Jongin altogether and end up kissing the pillow).
It's thrilling, but also terrifying. "I'm not going to die," Lu Han says, trying to reassure Jongin, but he can't guarantee that anymore and even to his own ears, he doesn't sound convincing. Staying alive in this world isn't as simple as checking for oncoming traffic before he crosses the road, or not falling down the stairs. It's going to require considerably more effort.
He's expended enough effort for one day. He rolls over to his back, letting his entire body go limp. Having a magic sword doesn't exempt the wielder from the consequences of its use, and he's having trouble coming to terms with the idea that the soreness in his muscles won't simply vanish when he disappears because he's not going to disappear. A hot shower hadn't helped; he'd stayed under the spray just long enough to wash away the blood and stepped aside for Jongin to take his own brief turn in the stall. Clean clothing is in short supply at the moment, especially for the former Summons - only Chanyeol had had the opportunity to bring luggage through - and Lu Han hasn't bothered to borrow anything to sleep in. It isn't as though he has anything to hide from Jongin.
"I'm going to try not to die," Lu Han amends, closing his eyes. "That's the best I can do. But you have to try too, because I can't show up in a suit of armour to save you anymore."
Jongin pokes him in the arm, either accidentally or intentionally catching one of the bruises there, and Lu Han grins despite Jongin's exasperated tone. "Do you honestly think I still need saving?"
"Only once in a while. Doesn't stop me wanting to do it, though." They protect each other, in truth, in this life and the last, and with Jongin's new materia, he's got more options for putting some distance between himself and anything he can't handle. He can even send Lu Han off to safety, if need be, and that's something he's never been able to do before.
Too bad there's nowhere safe to go. There are many places in this world where Lu Han's never been and it's a pity that now he's finally untethered from his materia and can go where he pleases, he's likely to encounter only death and despair. Not much prospect for a relaxing holiday, or a second actual date with Jongin.
"I remember when you were better at getting me into trouble than out of it."
"Me? Get you into trouble? Never," Lu Han says airily. "You must be thinking of Sehun. In which case you should stop. No one should ever think of Sehun."
He's only joking, of course. Sehun and Jongin had already been thick as thieves when he met them for the first time - the two youngest of the Tree of Life's guardians - and he'd no more try to come between them than he'd let anyone come between himself and Minseok. That doesn't mean he can't tease.
Jongin sighs, and Lu Han feels the dip of the mattress as Jongin turns to curl in against him. He's also wearing nothing but bruises, warm against Lu Han's skin. "I don't know what to think of Sehun. Now I can remember him, he's not the same. I guess he led a pretty different life this time around."
"I'm sure we all did, and I'm also sure getting his memory back by returning from the dead didn't help. That doesn't mean you can't still be friends?"
"It's not that we can't be friends, it's just...all mixed up. Jokes we used to share, places we used to go. Stuff like that, only none of it fits because he seems older now."
"This Sehun grew up on the poorest street in Wutai, fending for himself at a young age - doing what he had to for survival, same as you." If not in quite the same way. Lu Han can't picture Sehun selling his body. Jongin gives - or rather, he allows others to take from him, remaining as detached as he can to obtain what he needs. Sehun takes. "Last time, he grew up in a family that could afford to keep him. If one of the elders hadn't spotted him trying out rudimentary Wind magic while he was out with friends and tried to recruit him then and there, he might never have become a guardian."
"I don't know if I remember that. It's all tangled up."
"There are things in my head that are tangled up too." Lu Han cranes his neck to plant a light kiss on Jongin's forehead. "We could try to help each other untangle them?"
"Do you mean- Oh!" Jongin catches on, the haziness in his mind parting as Lu Han slides in, Jongin taking shape beside him.
It's a relief to Lu Han that he can still do this. The materia had been his link to this world before, and with that gone, he'd been afraid that no longer being physically tied to Jongin through the equipped materia would sever their telepathic link. They hadn't needed materia in the past, however, and they'd learned in the underground cavern that they no longer need it now.
In Jongin's mind, they're surrounded by memories. Thousands, maybe millions of fragments, all pieces in search of a puzzle to which they can belong. Stacks of them form unstable-looking walls; others drift through the air in a lazy fashion, sometimes alone, sometimes already joined to other pieces. It's a messy, if understandable, representation of the jumble of memories with which they have been left.
Lu Han catches one of the larger pieces as it flies past his legs. It's almost complete, with a small gap where a head would be. He studies it carefully: someone cuddling a poodle with a possessive grip. It's easy to tell who it's supposed to be, thanks to the gold bracelet around the wrist.
"This one's Zitao," he says, and without warning, another puzzle piece swoops in to fill the remaining gap. The entire memory rises from his hands, growing and filling out as it goes. It's not just a flat screen that hangs before them - it's three-dimensional, would be almost lifelike, were it not for the muted colours. The gold of the bracelet is less shiny than Lu Han recalls; there's a dullness to Zitao's usual healthy glow. Entranced, they watch it play out.
Zitao pets the poodle in his lap, pressing kisses to the top of her tiny head and stroking a finger under her chin. "She's like a little ball of candy floss, right? You should call her Candy!"
Arms reach out to take the squirming bundle of pale fluff away from him. Zitao pouts, but releases her into her daddy's affectionate embrace.
"You don't get to name my kids! When you get your own, you can call her Candy."
"I would've if you hadn't adopted all the baker's extra puppies already," Zitao protests. "Now I'll have to wait until someone else's dog gives birth, and who knows how long that will be!"
"Well..." Jongin loosens his grip on his 'kid'; she jumps down from his lap and paws at Zitao until he picks her up again. "I guess you can share Jjangah for now. But you don't get to rename her, okay? I'm her daddy."
"I'll be a good uncle," Zitao promises, but as Jongin walks away and the sound fades out, he adds: "to Candy!"
"Jjangah!"
"Cute," Lu Han says, the memory fading as he speaks. "I didn't know the two of you bickered over her name."
"He never did get a dog of his own," Jongin says wistfully. "There wasn't time before...you know."
Before they all died. Not a memory Lu Han is keen to see played out in Jongin's mind. He watches other fragments as they drift past him, hoping not to see anything too traumatic. Jongin starts to reach out for another puzzle that appears to be nearly complete, then lets his hand drop when it joins up with a couple of missing pieces and tidies itself away into a stack.
"If we leave them alone for long enough, you think they'll finish assembling themselves?"
Lu Han shrugs. "It's been a few weeks for Sehun and he says he's still scrambled in places, but eventually, maybe? It might happen faster if we can fill in some of the gaps for each other." He spreads his arms wide, indicating the stacks and swirls of memories surrounding them. "It's impossible to tell if there's anything in here that you urgently need to remember, though."
"I'm not sure petty arguments with Zitao are going to help us save the world," Jongin agrees.
He meets Lu Han's eyes, and then the memories are spinning away in a whirl of colour, leaving only the darkness behind Lu Han's closed eyelids, back on the bed. Lu Han doesn't open them. They feel like they weigh ten times more than they did a couple of hours ago. It's nice and all, curling up with Jongin like this, but he really needs to sleep. Even mental exertion is sapping his energy.
"Is that how they look inside your mind too?" Jongin asks aloud, voice soft and weary. "Like so many jigsaw puzzles?"
"Maybe." Lu Han's resorting to mumbling now. It's too much effort to enunciate properly. "Go take a look if you want; I'm going to sleep."
It's not something Jongin's done in this lifetime, though Lu Han now remembers him doing it in the past. Jongin will speak to him mind-to-mind from the surface layer, sometimes with pictures to accompany the words; he hasn't shown any inclination to invite himself further in, down into the memories, the way Lu Han has done to him. Lu Han doesn't know if it's that he's unwilling to risk losing himself in an unfamiliar space, or politely waiting for an invitation.
"I want to sleep too." Jongin runs his thumb over Lu Han's wrist in a slow, tender motion. "I'll just...take a quick peek..."
There's a slight buzz at the edge of Lu Han's consciousness. It's a little like the nagging of one of his selves, but he knows that's not a possibility anymore. It's Jongin, tiptoeing inside, finding his way through the now-familiar layer of surface thoughts and into the deeper realms beneath. He's cautious, taking it slow. Lu Han can feel him there: not as an intruder, but as a welcome visitor, one who can freely access anything he chooses to investigate because at this point Lu Han has no secrets left to keep and he can't think of anything inside his head that he'd be upset by Jongin seeing. He's not going in to keep an eye on him.
"They're books," Jongin's awed whisper ripples through his mind. "Stories written down in books, only some of them have words missing. Look!"
An image flashes behind Lu Han's eyes, so vivid and familiar that it makes his heart ache. Leaves of Life. His bookshop. Home. His memories, depicted as shelf after shelf of books. Open books, lying on the counter with half their words missing, the blanks being filled by an invisible hand in careful penmanship. He's always wanted to take Jongin there and watch his face light up with joy at the sight of so many new novels to read. This isn't quite the same thing, but it's all he can offer. That road is closed to him forever.
It's not surprising, perhaps, that Lu Han's mind has chosen to organise itself in this way. There are still books that Jongin can read, if he chooses, only the contents are fact rather than fiction - if no less fantastic. A contented hum, somewhere in Lu Han's mind, suggests that Jongin may be doing exactly that, at least until he falls asleep.
Lu Han's okay with that. Jongin's presence in his mind is warm and comfortable, intimate in a way having his separate selves crowding in hadn't been. After all, when all the people in his head had been Lu Han himself, there had been no need for trust. At root, everyone had been the same.
Jongin is different. Jongin is love, and trust, and friendship, and laughter, and a shared past both wonderful and tragic. Jongin is an entirely separate person, one Lu Han chooses to let share his space both physically and mentally. There are no other Lu Hans now, but there is a Jongin, and Lu Han knows that if he wants Jongin with him, Jongin will always be there, filling those empty spaces in his mind.
Lu Han might have lost himself many times over, but that doesn't mean he has to be alone.