Chapter Text
Saeran's machine returns a compiling error just as the loud redhead yells from across the lounge, his laughter ringing irritatingly in Saeran's ear. Summer in Seoul is hot, irritating, and practically burns, and Saeran doesn't have the energy to play nice with obnoxious kids at camp. He shoots a glare at the group of loudmouths and wills his anger down.
The redhead, who Saeran has only heard being called "Seven" for the last few weeks, meets his eye from across the canteen and smirks. Saeran's gaze snaps right down to his laptop as he types furiously back in his compiler window. Annoying.
What's even more ludicrous than Seven's existence is how many times other campers have mistaken Saeran for that idiot. First of all, the source of Saeran's headache wears the world's ugliest glasses, which indicate lack of personal taste or self preservation. Secondly, they clearly have different eye colors. It doesn’t escape Saeran’s notice that the idiot's hair is red and vibrant like Saeran’s own before he started bleaching it, but Saeran hasn’t had red hair in years. So what if they have a passing resemblance in bone structure? It can't be that uncommon for people to look alike in Seoul. Yet, Saeran can't count the number of times people have called out to him while mistaking him for Seven, especially when Saeran has his hoodie up.
His mother always says people are more complicated in the city. Saeran didn’t realized that complicated meant obnoxious.
Saeran should have never agreed to come to computer camp in Seoul. He could be spending his summer hanging out with Yoosung and MC, not waging a personal war with imbeciles. He's about to give up on his code when his screen flashes alarmingly, resulting in a wall of scrolling green error texts. The flashing ends with a picture of a red cat with yellow glasses, an unmistakable caricature of someone all too familiar
A virus.
Regardless of how many nerds are here, there can only be one culprit.
There’s a kid who’s got it out for Saeyoung. This means he must be doing something right.
Saeyoung may act silly, but he’s sharp. And he knows he isn’t being paranoid when he notices this rando glaring at him from across the dining hall, bright green eyes boring into Saeyoung’s skull with his every movement, every word. Saeyoung glances up and sticks out his tongue. The weird boy with white hair turns away, hiding his face. Saeyoung grins. Good. He resumes digging into his bag of Honey Buddha Chips, scrolling Reddit on his phone, ignoring the hustle and bustle of computer geek kids laughing and chattering around him.
He really can’t imagine why some kid who he’s never really spoken to hates him so much, but he supposes it isn’t out of the ordinary. Maybe he’s jealous of Saeyoung? People have been saying the two of them look alike through all of camp, after all. Still, that’s no reason to be giving Saeyoung crap, especially when Saeyoung has been nothing but an innocent angel. All he’s been doing so far is making talking robots, pranking camp counselors, and deliberately installing viruses on other kids’ computers for kicks. Just the typical things you’d do at computer camp.
Okay, so maybe the kid has a reason for hating Saeyoung so much. Especially because Saeyoung’s latest virus has targeted him.
To Saeyoung’s credit, it isn’t all his fault. White Haired Emo Boy (WHEB) should have been honored to be mistaken for Saeyoung, and glad to take credit for Saeyoung’s awesome pranks. (Saeyoung had made sure to wear his cat beanie whenever he did anything ridiculous, just so the counselors wouldmight think it was WHEB instead. This is what he gets for being so charitable and kind, and for putting soap bubbles in the drinking fountain.) Most of all, WHEB should have taken more care to stop random hackers from going in and messing with his code, and strengthened his firewall so Saeyoung couldn’t install a virus that turned all his icons into Nyan Cats, and all his photos into pictures of Honoka from Love Live School Idol Festival. You’d think that another l337 haxx0r genius kid would see this coming!
Still, Saeyoung had thought that he’d covered his ass. Saeyoung had, for the longest time, and truly, from the bottom of his aching heart, believed that there was no way that the virus would be traced back to him, but he isn’t so sure any more. He frowns, eyes meeting WHEB’s again, and he waggles his eyebrows.
“Longcat got your tongue?” Saeyoung hollers at him.
Well, come to think of it, perhaps the memes were a dead giveaway. Welp, too late to fix that now, because WHEB has slammed the screen of his laptop shut and is charging towards him with murder in his eyes. If he dies young, bury him in a sea of Honey Buddha Chips.
Saeran hadn't given much thought to what he's going to do, but the idiot's grating grin only heightens his anger.
"What's up, Buttercup?" Seven asks cheekily.
"You know what's up," Saeran hisses. He'd always thought the dumbass's eyes were a muddy brown color. Up close, Saeran finds that they're actually bright gold.
Seven leans over the table over his messily scattered food. "That's what she said."
It's not the first time Saeran has heard such an infantile response. "Not to you," Saeran replies smoothly, earning the laughter and attention of the campers around them. He's pleased to see surprise color Seven's face. Perhaps he's been friends with MC for too long, because Saeran automatically adds, "That joke is sexist and in poor taste. Didn't your mother teach you any manners?"
Seven recoils immediately, his face going through several expressions before settling on anger. The change in his body language is obvious, turning from relaxed to tense. The noise level dwindles as their conversation catches the attention of other campers. "Take that back! My mom is dead."
Oh, Saeran thinks belatedly, a reluctant apology already on the back of his mind when Seven continues.
"At least my dad loved me enough to raise me not to be a shithead, like you!"
Anger flashes through Saeran as he's reminded of empty classrooms and kids whispering behind his back. He's heard this insult countless times at school and in his neighborhood where ahjummas reprimand Saeran for the color of his hair and his apathetic attitude. Over the years, he's gotten good at ignoring similar comments. Still, hearing it from Seven's mouth induces unbridled rage within him. Saeran has never been good at controlling his anger. His hands act on their own.
The next thing Saeran knows, he's pouring the can of Dr. Pepper over Seven's head.
Saeran can feel his entire body shaking as the canteen falls eerily silent. He expects a hard shove or maybe a punch in the face, not for Seven to slam a piece of pie at Saeran's face in retaliation. Saeran stumbles back in shock, trying to blink icing out of his eyes.
Saeran is vaguely aware of someone shouting "FOOD FIGHT!" before all hell breaks loose. Someone stands up on a table and throws a slice of pizza across the room. It doesn't hit anyone in particular, but this starts a chain of flying food. Saeran yelps when Seven tackles him to the ground, Saeran kicking and pulling at Seven's hair as noise erupts from all corners of the canteen.
"Take it back!" Seven hollers in Saeran's ear as shouting fills the canteen. His grip on Saeran is surprisingly strong.
Saeran knees Seven in the stomach and uses that momentum to flip them over. "Fuck off!" He hisses and wipes his face clean. When Seven grabs at Saeran’s hair, Saeran tries to bite Seven's hand, which results in a struggle that has them rolling on the ground. They stop only when Saeran's back hits the foot of a chair.
"Admit defeat!" Seven cackles as he holds Saeran in a headlock. He ignores the way Saeran's free hand is grasping for purchase and laughs like a possessed person. How is fighting remotely funny? Saeran has never met someone this ridiculous.
The shrill shriek of a whistle sends the food fight to a grinding halt. Saeran looks up to find a group of red-faced camp counselors on the scene. One counselor looks particularly livid as she heads in their direction, causing Seven to release Saeran.
"Kim Saeyoung! Choi Saeran!" She hollers at them. "You're coming with me now!"
Saeyoung has been in trouble with authorities at school countless times, but this one probably takes the cake. He nods along as the two counselors screech at him and WHEB about the perils of causing trouble and wasting food. Still, this isn’t too bad. The words that the counsellors are slinging at him and WHEB are ones he’s all heard before: Saeyoung can mostly tune them out. Big trouble, blah blah blah, never in the history of this computer camp has anyone started a food fight, et cetera, et cetera, dishonor on your parents and your cow. Saeyoung plasters the most sheepish look possible on his face, trying to ignore the Dr. Pepper still dripping from his hair. He glances up to look at WHEB—well, Saeran-- who still has pie on his face, and gives him a sheepish grin.
The glare that he receives in return could slice a watermelon in two. When the counsellors aren’t looking, Saeyoung sticks out his tongue. Nobody can tell him he isn’t a paragon of maturity.
“Are you both listening to us?”
Saeyoung glances up to face the counsellor speaking to them, a petite lady called Miss Jang. Ah, here’s the part where he has to act like he’s sorry. He bows his head down, trying his best not to smile. Much as unfortunate circumstances had led him there, the food fight had been kind of fun. Saeyoung nods, trying to sound as regretful as possible. “Yes I am,” he says.
Saeran suddenly pipes up in a sickeningly sweet voice. “Me- me too. I’m very, truly, extremely sorry. I promise you that it won’t happen again.”
Saeyoung nearly bursts out into peals of laughter, but suppresses them with a fake coughing fit. This is the nicest that Saeran has ever sounded, and he has to give him props for the act. Miss Jang’s face softens for a moment before her brow knots again, and she slams a hand on the table. She clears her throat, trying her best to sound stern.
“Originally we wanted to kick you both out of camp, but I’m going to give you boys one more chance. Pack your bags, and be back here in ten minutes. You’re both going to be in the isolation cabin until we’re convinced you’ve truly learned your lesson.”
A pit of dread wells up within Saeyoung. “Wait, I can’t be in the isolation cabin with him! He’ll murder me! I am too young and cute to die—”
“Do you think,” Saeran sneers, “I want to be stuck in a cabin with you? My head might just explode from noise pollution.”
The other counsellor, a taller lady named Miss Im, gets up from where she is sitting and points to the door. “The two of you better be out of here in a minute, or we’re going to keep you in isolation for the rest of camp.”
Saeyoung isn’t sure he’s ever scampered out of a room so quickly, or with such a sense of impending doom. This is going to be a very long few days. He goes back to his bunk, gathers his belongings, and makes the long, arduous trek up to his new home. Saeyoung pushes the door open to find Saeran already waiting in the room, sitting on the lower bunk of the bed with his head buried in his hands. Saeyoung sighs, plopping down on the bed next to Saeran.
“Well, we’ve got to live with each other for the next few days, I guess,” he mutters. “Look, we should maybe try to not destroy each other. It’s just going to make us both miserable.” Saeyoung extends a hand to shake Saeran’s, but he swats it away. So much for trying not to be miserable. Still, Saeyoung isn’t going to give up so easily. “I can help get rid of the virus on your computer if you want.”
Saeran snaps. “I don’t want to talk. Just leave me alone.”
“Oh, now you’re quiet?” Ugh, this is the worst. Not only does Saeyoung have to deal with Mr. Emo McBlackParade for the next few days, they’re going to spend them in total detestation. Well, he can’t say he hasn’t tried. Saeyoung ponders trying to fight Saeran for the bunk bed but decides against it, instead crawling onto the upper bunk with a resigned sigh. He flops onto the too-hard mattress.
Woe is he. It is so hard to be him and be so cute. Saeyoung rolls onto his tummy and boots up the laptop, beginning to write his program. Even if Saeran doesn’t want him to write the antivirus, it’ll be a fun exercise in troubleshooting. He boots up a program and is about to begin typing away when a voice pipes up from the bottom bunk. “Hey.”
Saeyoung crawls to the side of his bunk, bending down and peering at Saeran. “Yes?”
Saeran is still sitting on the side of the bed, his brow furrowed and drumming his fingers on the mattress like the side antagonist of a video game. “I didn’t know your name was Saeyoung.”
A small smile tugs at the edge of Saeyoung’s lips. Okay, maybe he is going to try to be friendly. “Now you do,” he says. “Most people at camp call me Seven. It’s short for 707, which is LOL upside-down, and if I told you the story behind that, I would have to kill you, and then I’d have to change my name and erase my identity so there’s no trace of me left.”
“Our names,” Saeran interjects. “Saeyoung. Saeran. Isn’t that—
“Weird?” Saeyoung grins. “Yeah, kind of. ‘Sae’ isn’t all that rare though. Coincidence?”
Saeran groans. “Ugh, never mind.” He collapses onto his bunk, falling over and burying his face in his pillow. Saeyoung takes that as a sign that their conversation is over, but hey, this is a start. He returns to his code, making sure to blare Honoka’s solo remix of Snow Halation really loudly from his speakers.
The AC in the cabin breaks down by the third day. Saeran opens all the windows and thinks there's some mercy in being located deep in the woods. At night, the bug lamp catches flies that Saeyoung feeds to his new pet spider. During the day, Saeran reads the books he's brought from home while Saeyoung watches movies in silence. Saeran personally thinks their pseudo-truce is better than participating in loud camp festivities.
The counselors come three times a day to deliver them food, only to reprimand them for their lack of genuine remorse.
On the fifth day, Saeran wakes up in the middle of the night to the sound of water dripping. It's storming outside, the wind making the windows clatter against its rusty frames. Saeran wills himself awake and squints. The lack of moonlight makes it difficult for him to see, but he eventually spots pools of water in the cabin. "Shit," Saeran mumbles and kicks at the top bunk.
When Saeyoung continues to breathe loudly in his sleep, Saeran groans and climbs up. He finds Saeyoung's hair matted wildly against the pillow, Saeyoung still holding his phone to his chest. What an idiot. "Wake up." Saeran says.
Saeyoung makes an indistinguishable noise and flips around.
"Wake up!" Saeran shouts, causing Saeyoung to shoot up and nearly hit his head against the ceiling. "The roof is leaking."
Saeyoung squints at him in the almost-darkness. "What?"
"The cabin," Saeran says again, deliberately slow. "It's falling apart. The roof is leaking."
"Um. Should we go back to main camp?"
"Not in this weather." As if to reiterate Saeran's point, thunder cracks in the distance as rain continues pounding on the roof. "We gotta take care of the leak."
Together, they manage to light up candles to discover the entire floor soaked in water. Saeyoung runs around like a madman, chucking their stuff on top of dry drawers. Saeran finds two pails in the supply closet and positions them under wet spots, while Saeyoung tries to wipe up the water.
"That's not enough," Saeran says as he eyes the huge pool of water still in the center of the cabin. "We need to get this water out somehow."
Saeyoung's hair is a warm orange color under the lamp light, and Saeran can't help but note how much it looks like his own before he bleached it. "But how?" Saeyoung mutters, watching with wide eyes when Saeran grabs a broom and starts sweeping excess water out of the door. "Wait, that's danger-"
As if on cue, a strong gust of wind shakes the cabin and knocks the door closed. Saeran stumbles back, but Saeyoung catches him in time before Saeran's back collides with a sharp corner of the cabinets. "Be careful!" Saeyoung hisses, his body warm. Up close, Saeran realizes their facial structures are almost identical.
"I'll help you!" Saeyoung grabs another broom, and they sweep most of the water through the crack on the door. Saeyoung uses a towel to close up the crack while humming a stupid cleaning commercial song, but Saeran is too thankful to be irritated.
In the end, they manage to cover the entire floor with rags and towels as the roof continues to creak above them.
"I hope the cabin doesn't collapse," Saeyoung mumbles. He plops down on Saeran's bottom bunk and lifts a hand dramatically to his forehead. "I'm too young and handsome to die."
This makes Saeran snort. "Why? Do you have a sentimental lover waiting for you back home?"
"Nah, but my dad would be so sad. He always get moody and nostalgic when I'm not home." It's as if a dam has broken, because Saeyoung begins babbling nonstop. "He always takes artsy photos when I'm not around and frames pictures of me around the house. I don't really get his taste, but, whatever, he's famous."
Saeran stares at a spot on the cabin wall. "I see."
"Doesn't your mom miss you?"
"Probably." Saeran leans back. "She doesn't like to talk about her feelings."
Saeyoung has the audacity to nudge Saeran over, making room for himself on Saeran's bed. "Well! My dad loves having weird, existential conversations with me. I think it helps his art or something. He's willing to talk about everything, except maybe my mom."
At least they have that much in common, Saeran thinks. He makes a grunting sound in agreement.
Saeyoung's sigh is loud and fills the cabin. "The only thing I have of her is a half torn photo, and even that's fading in color. Sometimes I can't tell if her hair is blonde or brown, and-"
"Wait," Saeran cuts in. His brain whirls at the information, and Saeran turns to face Saeyoung. "What did you say?"
Saeyoung blinks. "My dad-"
"No," Saeran snaps as anxiety bubbles in the pitt of his stomach. "The thing about your mom- You have a torn photograph of her?"
"Yeah. It's ripped down the middle. I think she's on a boat or something?"
Saeran has never told anyone about this, but he has an almost identical photograph of his father. His mother has never been keen on keeping physical photos, and most of their vacation pictures are displayed on a digital photo frame at home. Still, Saeran had managed to steal a photo of his father from her collection. In the early days of his childhood, Saeran had kept it with him everywhere so he can consult it in case he ran into his father. Nowadays, he leaves it in his wallet as a habit. "Do you have it with you?"
This makes Saeyoung frown. "I guess? I think it's tucked in the cover of my calculator. Why? What's the problem?"
A few things begin to click into place, but Saeran doesn't want to give himself too much hope. "I also have a photo of my father that's torn down the middle."
"So?" Saeyoung squints at him.
Saeran takes a deep breath. He hasn't looked at the photograph in years, but the details are etched into the back of his mind. "I think he's also on a boat."
It takes a moment for Saeyoung's jaw to drop, but he catches up instantly and scrambles off the bed. After a minute, he procures something from his bag and nearly trips on his way back to Saeran. "Take your photo out!"
Gingerly, Saeran reaches for his wallet and does as he's told.
Saeyoung bites the bottom of his lips as he holds something behind his back. "Okay.. This is so fucking weird, but, on the count of three-"
"I get it."
"One.. Two... Three."
Saeran has never given much thought to the idea of fate. Still, there's something haunting about the way the edges of their photos line up perfectly. Saeyoung's half seems to have suffered some water damage, but it's intact enough for them to recognize the obvious truth.
"This is... The same picture," Saeyoung says dumbly. "What does this mean?"
"Are you stupid?" Saeran snaps.
Saeyoung throws his hand into the air. "I mean, obviously this means .... We're related? We have the same parents? But what does this mean? Are we twins? But why do you have different hai-"
"I, um, I dye my hair." It occurs to Saeran that he may have been withholding some key facts.
"WHAT?!" Saeyoung grabs Saeran's hand. Even in the dim light of the cabin, Saeran can see that Saeyoung’s fingers are tanner than his. "Why didn't you say so earlier?!"
"It didn't seem important,” Saeran admits quietly.
Saeyoung gives him a grave look. "You have a lot to learn, little brother."
"Who says I'm the younger one?!!"
A bolt of thunder lands somewhere in there vicinity, shaking the entire cabin. It carries over whatever response Saeran had as wind continues to knock into the windows and carry through the cracks of the cabin. The draft is strong enough to blow out their remaining candle. That’s when Saeyoung says, “Shit, we’re gonna dieee.”
Dawn is just starting to peek at the edges of the cabin window when Saeyoung wakes up; he boots up his cell phone, plugging in his headphones so he can do his dailies in his rhythm games. He presumes that Saeran is still fast asleep in the bunk underneath him.
Saeyoung can hardly blame him: it’s not like Saeran was the one who had that weird dream that they were twins, too.
He keeps playing Love Live, eyes steeled in determination as he attempts (and fails) to full combo Soldier Game on Expert Mode. He keeps going until his LP runs out, and pulls his headphones down to his neck, setting the game down. Perfect timing: his bunkmate is beginning to stir, making soft noises as he stirs. Saeyoung can’t help but chuckle to himself. “Morning, Saeran-a—I mean, Saeran.”
“Morning,” Saeran whispers back, voice dry. He tosses several times in his bed before moving, grappling onto the ladder that separates his bunk from Saeyoung’s and climbing up to sit across him. Saeyoung notices that Saeran is wearing black pajama bottoms with a black T-shirt. What an edgelord, Saeyoung thinks as he continues to scroll through his phone.
Saeran narrows his eyes, sticking a hand out to block Saeyoung’s phone screen. “Don’t you think we need to talk more about this?”
“What are you on about?” Saeyoung hums. Well, this is an improvement from the earlier hostility. He pulls his phone out from under Saeran’s hand. Only two more Love Gems before he can scout for the Taisho Roman set. Will he full combo Soldier Game before he dies? Saeran sighs, snatching Saeyoung’s phone away from him and setting it on the bed.
“Did you miss the memo? You know, the part where we realized last night that we’re probably twins?”
Saeyoung’s eyes widen. “It—it wasn’t a dream?”
"Are you an idiot?" Saeran sighs before pulling his own phone from his pocket. “We need to find Wi-Fi somewhere. There must be something online that will tell us more…”
Dazedly, Saeyoung nods. "Actually, I have my own Wi-Fi hotspot, hold on," he says, pulling out a 4G dongle from his computer's USB port. The roof is still dripping with water, and their belongings are scattered in high areas across the room. He feels a lurch in his chest.
This feels like some sort of cop out ending from a video game, where the main characters achieve true happiness only to be told that this is just a dream. Only it isn’t a dream, he might actually have a brother, and his mum… No, he doesn’t want to think about it. Not until it’s confirmed. His heart skips a beat as his dongle senses a Wi-Fi connection. The signal’s weak, but it’s there. Saeyoung boots up his laptop, and starts typing.
“What hospital were you born in?”
“Cheil General Hospital, in Seoul.”
Saeyoung knots his brows. That’s where he was born too. He pulls up the hospital’s webpage and scours through the database backend, watching lines of code flash across the computer scene. The hospital's current system is fairly secure, so that might be a tough nut to crack, but... "Aha!" Saeyoung mutters to himself. "We've hit gold here, Saerannie. Check this out."
Saeran leans in and a grin spreads across his features despite himself. "Nice."
"I know right?" Saeyoung marvels. The hospital's current system might be super secure, but the same can't be said for records older than fifteen years old. In fact, it's easily susceptible to simple SQL injection attacks, and... "Bingo." Lines of code flash across the computer screen as he searches up his own name. Kim Saeyoung, June 11, sixteen years ago. “When’s your birthday?”
“June 11,” Saeran says without skipping a beat. How they hadn’t thought of asking each other this earlier, Saeyoung has no idea, but the eerie sensation continues to creep up throughout him as he pokes holes in the hospital’s website. All signs are pointing to a positive result, but he wants to be absolutely certain.
It takes Saeyoung three minutes and some backseat hacking from Saeran to locate the right information. Digital copies of his and Saeran’s birth certificates are just one click away. Saeyoung takes a deep breath, trying to ignore the cold, clammy feeling that has taken a grip of him. Saeyoung double-clicks on both files.
Kim Saeyoung, born to Choi Rika and Kim Jihyun at 1:14 pm on June the 11th. Kim Saeran, also born to the same parents seventeen minutes later.
Saeyoung stares at his screen wordlessly, unsure how to react to all this information. Saeran is the first to break the silence.
“So I have to call you hyung now?”
“Yeah,” Saeyoung mutters, voice devoid of its usual teasing lilt. For some reason, the idea of having a little brother to boss around doesn’t ring louder than the haunting chant of Your mother isn’t dead. His father had lied to him, which shouldn’t have been that much of a surprise, and yet… Saeyoung squeezes his eyes shut, trying to blink back tears.
His mother is alive. He has a brother. His father remembers and humors all his weird hobbies, never misses his birthdays, and goes to each of Saeyoung's parent-teacher conferences despite how busy he is, and yet his father failed to share this crucial information. Saeyoung slowly closes his laptop shut. He takes a deep breath, trying to squeeze out a smile for Saeran.
Saeran isn’t taking any of it. “Don’t try. You’re shaking,” he says. “Are you okay?”
Saeyoung nods. “Yeah, I’m totally fine! Just a bit surprised, that’s all. All of a sudden I have a younger brother—a- and a mum...” His voice trails off. It must be dusty in here, because there’s something in his eye. Saeyoung blinks a few times, trying to force it back, and lifts a hand to rub it when that doesn’t work. It’s wet and clammy, and he sniffs a little.
Saeran raises an eyebrow. “Are you crying?”
“No I’m not! Just something in my eye, that’s all. Just,” Saeyoung blubbers, "Let me be alone for a while, Saeran-ah, this is a really bad allergy called FeelingsWillKillYouSyndrome, you might catch it too, since we're twins."
Saeran frowns. “You have a brother now, and your mother isn’t dead. Shouldn’t you be happy?”
“I… I guess.” Crap, he really is crying. Saeyoung lifts a hand to rub his eye, and sniffles a little. Saeran is right; this really shouldn’t be something to cry over, but there's a stinging feeling in his chest and a stabbing sensation through his gut that he can't ignore. “I just don’t like being lied to.”
Saeran nudges Saeyoung a little with his knee. Up close, Saeran is warm, and soft, and feels like family-- he seems so real when everything else feels fake to Saeyoung. “Neither do I. Mom told me that my father left a long time ago and that he’s no longer in the picture. She never said anything about you.”
“They probably had their reasons.” Still, the injustice of being lied to doesn’t sit right with Saeyoung, and the initial shock has begun to give way to bubbling anger. He covers his face with his hands and groans. “How am I supposed to be a cool big brother if you’ve already seen me like this?”
“Nothing about you is cool. You gave up any rights to that the day you started playing that stupid phone game all the time.” Saeran rolls his eyes.
Saeyoung manages to laugh. “H- hey! Are you insulting Honoka Kousaka, the light of my life?”
“Saeyoung—-hyung, Honoka isn’t real. Besides, there are plenty of other things about you that aren’t cool. You spent your summer in computer camp. You walk around wearing shirts with that stupid frog on them, Dat Boi or something—”
“His name is Pepe.”
“And you wear those stupid glasses. I wouldn’t be caught dead walking out of the house like that.”
Saeyoung folds his arms, scoffing with mock annoyance. “My glasses are adorable. Just like the rest of me!”
“And you’re full of incessant self-praise. If I had ten won for every time you called yourself cute, I’d be able to pay for my mother’s retirement.”
“You mean our mother’s retirement?”
“Yeah.”
They fall into silence once more. Saeyoung sighs, flopping down onto his bed and pulling up another game. He absentmindedly taps the screen as the monster on his phone gets bigger and bigger, tearing down buildings and eating every single human in sight. Just then, a giant meteor appears out of nowhere and crushes the monster, killing him. The words “Game Over” flash across his screen. Saeyoung cringes and slams his phone hard against the mattress of his bed. “There’s gotta be something we can do about this, right?”
Saeran frowns. “What, like dressing up as each other and going home to the other parent?”
Saeyoung sits up straight as his mind begins to whirl.
“Wait, that’s a fantastic idea.”
There are obvious concerns: the two of them could get caught, he’d be lying to his dad, they’re nothing alike, what if Uncle Jumin's cat likes Saeran more, etc. Saeyoung pushes those thoughts aside. The switch needs to be good, really good. As for lying to his dad, well, it’s not like he’s been super honest with Saeyoung either. “D- does Mom talk about Dad much?”
“Not really,” says Saeran. He shifts from side to side on the bed. “She says he’s a good man, but… I always wanted to meet him.”
Saeyoung claps his hands together. “This is perfect! You want to meet Dad. I want to meet Mom. We can pretend to be each other, and go back with each other’s parent. When the holidays are over we can tell them the truth and they’ll have to meet up to switch us back!” He grabs Saeran by the shoulders. “You’re a genius. Well of course you are, you’re related to me.”
Saeran’s lips part for a moment and his eyes go wide, and Saeyoung feels his heart sink. He begins to wrack his brain for the right words, anything that will convince Saeran! But the look of doubt on Saeran’s face quickly gives way to a small smile, and Saeran nods in agreement.
“Let’s do it.”
The first step to aiding their plan is to get out of the isolation cabin. It’s not so hard to feign innocence in front of the counselors when they’re now practically glued at the hip. Surprisingly, no one questions their newfound attachment to each other, and Saeran wonders what else could have happened in that isolation cabin in the past to normalize their behavior. Once they return to camp, their plans are put into motion.
The switch is ingenious in theory. In practicality, it raises many concerns.
Their differing eye colors is the biggest giveaway, but that's easily solved with colored contacts. Saeran does not look forward to wearing Saeyoung's ridiculous glasses, but he understands that sacrifices must be made for the greater good.
The hair poses another problem. They manage to bribe one of the day-camp students to go on a hair dye run of them, despite Saeyoung's protests of looking like a visual kei reject. "Don't be ridiculous," Saeran says while applying bleach to Saeyoung's hair over the sink. Saeyoung's hair is still soft and undamaged, unlike his own. "Mom will know immediately something is wrong if I show up with red hair."
"Embrace your natural beauty," Saeyoung sing-songs, then yelps when bleach strays too close to his eye. In the end, after two bottles of developer and some creative license with the dip dye, Saeyoung makes a passable Saeran at first glance. If only he can school his expressions into something less ridiculous.
"You look good with red hair," Saeyoung says after Saeran emerges from the shower with a shade close to his natural hair color. It's not an exact match, but he can always make an excuse about the sun.
Saeran towels absently at his head and turns to hide his smile. "You're just praising yourself."
The last physical challenge they need to overcome is the piercing. Saeran admits he might've gotten too creative with this, and he still remembers the lecture he'd gotten after coming home one day with pierced ears.
"I changed my mind, hahaha..." Saeyoung says weakly while Saeran hovers the needle over a lighter. "This is a bad idea. Nope, sir. Let's not tempt fate and-"
Saeran flicks the lighter off and watches hot heat rise from the needle. "Are you scared, hyung."
"Who?! ME?!" Saeyoung pouts, but his eyes doesn't leave the needle. "N- nope! Not afraid at all. But here’s an idea! We could fake piercings, you could say they closed up at camp--"
"It won't hurt," Saeran says for the nth time. This brings some peace to Saeyoung, who lies down again on the bed. Saeran scoots under he's positioned next to his brother, the bottle of rubbing alcohol still open after being applied relentlessly to Saeyoung's earlobe. He touches the pen dot on Saeyoung's ear and watches Saeyoung's chest rise and fall.
Saeran smirks. "Much," he adds all-too-casually, before pushing the needle through Saeyoung's earlobe.
His brother's screams can be heard echoing through the entire camp.
Yet, their plan must be working. Counselors Jang and Im burst through the doors a minute later, wide-eyed and panicked, and the first question on their lips is "Why is Choi Saeran bleeding?"
At nights, they sneak back to the stream near the cabin and stargaze in a clearing in the woods. Saeyoung babbles on about his loud best friend Zen and their snarky but perceptive cohort Vanderwood. In turn, Saeran tells him about Yoosung’s gullibleness and MC’s endearing humor. It’s easy for Saeran to imagine his brother growing up in Seoul, across the country and worlds away from Saeran’s quiet life in Busan.
“What are you thinking about?” Saeyoung asks, when Saeran finishes explaining their mother’s event planning business and her strict but kind assistant Jaehee. The night air is humid, and Saeran has long since discarded Saeyoung’s long black hoodie.
Saeran plucks at a blade of grass near him. “Can we really make this work?”
In response, Saeyoung scoots over until their sides are pressed together. The grin he shoots Saeran is all-teeth, and Saeran wonders if this is what he’d look like if he was less apathetic. “Of course! They say twins are two halves of one whole, you know!”
“I don’t know about that,” Saeran replies quietly. “The two of us would make a very disjointed whole person.”
“Have faith, Saerannie!”
Having faith is easier said than done, for their next step in completing the switch is to exchange all personal effects. Having very similar body builds makes the wardrobe exchange easy, but Saeran gets a headache the first time he tries to find a wallet out of Saeyoung’s backpack. Not to mention the insane amount of apps on his phone.
“What in the world is Love Live?” Saeran asks when he’s done clearing Saeyoung’s internet history. A precursory glance at Saeyoung’s phone has made it obvious that all of his passwords are just some variations of cats.
Saeyoung’s face does some impressive acrobatics before settling on an expression of outrage. “What’s Love Li-YOU’RE MISSING OUT ON SO MUCH, SAERANNIE!!!” This soon devolves into a mutual roasting of each other’s personal tastes until Saeyoung tries to pull Saeran into a headlock.
Still, by the end of summer, their switch was complete. Everyone at camp had fallen for their new identities, and Saeran desperately hopes that the rest of summer will be as equally as easy.
The first stabs of panic bubble through Saeyoung as he watches his father greet Saeran at the front of the camp gates. Saeyoung trains his gaze onto Saeran’s laptop and attempts to shrink into a corner, trying not to look up as he notices his father pull Saeran into a tight hug. It’ll be over if their eyes meet-- Saeyoung knows it. Still, he can’t help but feel a pang of sadness as he watches the two of them leave. He keeps his head low and his mouth shut, and keeps working on his code.
The bullet train ride back to Saeran’s home in Busan is the longest he’s ever taken. Saeyoung tries not to think too much about the fact that he’s about to see a mother he didn’t even know was alive, and attempts to focus his attention on surfing the web on Saeran’s phone. Saeyoung drums his fingers against the armrest nervously, wishing there was someone he could chat up and text. Inserting himself into someone else’s life is a lot lonelier than he’d expected it to be, and a lot more nerve-wracking. He would be the world’s worst spy.
His phone vibrates, and Saeyoung almost jumps out of his seat with panic. Oh boy, if this is their mum or one of Saeran’s friends or someone else how is he supposed to reply? Wait, no. It’s just a text from Saeran.
Unknown: I’m already running out of things to say to Dad.
Unknown: He’s asking why I’m so quiet.
Unknown: What do you even TALK about half the time?
707: Oh
707: Well
707: /(@ﾟﾍﾟ@)
707: Just blabber on about computer theories!! ⌒°(❛ᴗ❛)°⌒
707: Dad won’t understand any of it.
707: Sometimes I do that to him when I’m trying to distract him.
707: He tunes out and pretends he gets it and it’s pretty funny, you can start saying random things that make no sense and he’ll nod along anyway!! ヽ(〃･ω･)ﾉ
707: Once I asked him if I could have a room with twenty cats and he agreed~
Unknown: Incredible.
Saeyoung sets the phone down, taking a deep breath. Okay, Saeyoung. Calm down. You can do this. Who would have thought that he’d be the type to have performance anxiety? Still, he can’t help but over think through the rest of his journey back, occasionally sending Saeran texts to find out how he’s doing on the other side. Finally, he gives up and downloads Love Live School Idol Festival on Saeran’s phone, putting in his transfer code so he’s back on his old account. A final tether to his previous identity.
The train comes to a screeching halt at Busan station hours later, and the butterflies in Saeyoung’s stomach return with a vengeance. He steps off the train nervously, squinting around for signs of his mother—the colored contacts he’s wearing don’t do a great job of correcting his astigmatism, just one of many sacrifices he’s had to make for the greater good. He shuffles his way to the end of the platform, and bile starts to creep up at the back of his throat. Maybe it isn’t too late. Maybe this was a bad idea—
“Saeran-ah!”
Saeyoung whirls around to see a petite, blonde woman in a flowing dress. She rushes up to him and Saeyoung’s eyes widen—this is it, this is Choi Rika, this is his mother— and she's beautiful. There are wrinkles on her forehead and circles under her eyes, but as she rushes up towards him he cannot help but feel like she walks on clouds and bathes in light. Saeyoung gulps, desperately searching for the words to say. What would Saeran do, what would Saeran do!
Before he can say anything, his mother wraps her arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug-- an embrace that feels like home. “Saeran-ah, how was the train ride home?”
Saeyoung can’t help but smile, and he pulls his mother in closer. In that moment, he can’t help but feel like everything is going to be all right.
“I missed you so much, Mom.”