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“And if I don’t meet you no more in this world, then I’ll, I’ll meet you in the next one, and don’t be late, don’t be late…”
Then.
There was something awfully familiar about the kid standing on the other side of the room, but Seokjin couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was. He couldn’t even tell why or how he was familiar, all he knew was that his name was Jeongguk — that he was very much sure of — but he didn’t know how he knew that either. Maybe he’d heard it somewhere or maybe they’d been introduced before and he just couldn’t remember, although it was unlikely.
The kid turned to him and the same look of recognition crossed his face. Big, doe eyes widened in what looked like surprise and maybe amazement. Seokjin spared him a friendly smile and he visibly blushed, quickly turning his gaze instead to the senior trainees demonstrating on the cold, wooden floor of the dance studio.
—
Paris, 1849.
Jeongguk slowly took a sip from the cup of coffee he made for himself as he looked out the morning skyline of Paris from their balcony — the one good thing about the tenement. He liked France much better that way, without all the chaos and the knights running around to ensure the safety of the citizens. I’d be damned if we’re to be part of another war, he thought as he drank again.
He is snatched from his thoughts when strong arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him into a hug from behind. “Good morning.” Seokjin mumbled lazily against the crook of his neck, eyes still shut and hair mussed from sleep.
“Morning.” The younger of the two answered, setting down his cup on the small coffee table on the balcony. He placed his hand atop Seokjin’s and rubbed soothing circles on the older’s knuckles. “This is all still so weird for me.”
“What is?” Seokjin asked as his eyes fluttered open.
“All these memories.” Jeongguk tilted his head slightly, just enough to meet his eyes. “These multitudes of lives.”
Seokjin only nodded in response. “When do they finish the Eiffel Tower?”
“1880s, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Oh? So we’d be old as fuck then?”
They laughed, something that sounded so solemn and heartwarming in the stillness and quietness of a Paris morning.
“Don’t worry.” Jeongguk finally turned to face the other and took his hands in his own. “We’ll probably have the next life to enjoy that.”
“Mhmm.” Seokjin hummed as he brought up a hand to run through the younger’s raven hair. “And you’re sure our next life would be here in France once again?”
Jeongguk nodded with a huge, eye-crinkling smile. “I don’t know how I’m sure, but I just am.”
“Let’s just hope we’ll be together again in the next.” Seokjin returned his smile.
“Even if we’re not, we somehow always find our way to one another, don’t we?”
—
Chaumont, 1914.
They were too young to be doing this.
He was sitting in the far-right corner of the room, hidden behind the make-shift curtains draped loosely on the rusty metal poles. His hands still trembled lightly and beads of sweat still formed on his forehead, but at least his breathing was now even. He could hear uneven footsteps heading towards him, that gait in his walk from the shrapnel he caught last week still making itself known.
Yoongi opened the curtains and sighed sadly when he saw his friend slumped against the wooden walls of the barn — the clinic. “Seokjin.”
Seokjin only nodded before looking up, understanding that they had a job to do and a lot of people relied on them. Not just the ones here, but also the ones back home. “Okay.” He mumbled as he stood up, taking the hand that Yoongi offered to him.
It wasn’t that it was his first time to watch someone die. It was a regular thing out there near the front lines.
(Of course, he and Yoongi and the other nurses and doctors did all they could, but there was only so much they could do with the lack of tools and an actual hospital, and the great waves of soldiers that kept coming in. They weren’t even real doctors and nurses yet; they were just university students that were either brave or foolish enough to volunteer.)
It was that he could never get used to it.
“Doc!” The door swung open violently and in came two soldiers — who both looked younger than both of them — haphazardly carrying an improvised stretcher towards one of the empty beds. Seokjin wanted to tell them they weren’t doctors, but that was all irrelevant, especially now that…
“Jeongguk.”
Seokjin stopped dead in his tracks as soon as the soldiers — he recognized them now as Jimin and Taehyung — set him down on the bed. Jimin kept a ripped cloth pressed to Jeongguk’s neck near the jugular. Blood soaked into the ripped cloth and his uniform, and even Jimin’s hands were already painted crimson.
Yoongi shouldered past him and relieved Jimin of the task, but not before shooing the two of them away. The boys left hesitantly, but not before muttering reassurances to their wounded comrade.
Seokjin just stood there, staring and in shock. Yoongi’s mouth was moving but he couldn’t hear him over the deafening ringing in his ears and the loud beating of his heart.
“Seokjin!”
He snapped out of his trance and suddenly found himself moving at a speed he didn’t even know he was capable of. Whatever Yoongi asked for, he handed to him right away, and when he was told to take his place, to keep the pressure on the wound, he moved with haste and pressed both his hands down Jeongguk’s bleeding neck. He knew how fatal a shot to the neck was and how small Jeongguk’s chances of surviving were, but he had to keep hoping.
“Jeongguk.” He called weakly, and the young man looked up at him, recognition lighting up his dark eyes. Seokjin wanted to cry right then, wanted to curse his fate and fight the gods, but he had to keep himself together. For Jeongguk. “Stay with me, okay? Just keep looking at me.”
“I was right.” Jeongguk was able to muster quietly as a small, weak smile tugged at the corners of his pale, chapped lips.
“W-what?” Seokjin stuttered as it was getting harder to keep his emotions in check.
“That we’d be in France again.” He smiled once more, wider this time, and it hurt Seokjin to think of all the other times he’d ever witnessed it. Then the warmth in his smile gave way to a melancholic look that made Seokjin’s heart drop.
“No, Jeongguk. Don’t you dare!”
Jeongguk reached up a hand, muddy and bloody, and placed it atop Seokjin’s while the smile slowly faded from his lips.
“Don’t you dare. Not now. Not when I’ve just found you.” He scolded, no longer able to hold back the tears. “Please, Kookie.”
But fate was cruel and life — their lives — unfair. As the last breath of life left Jeongguk’s lips and his eyes glazed over, Seokjin choked out a sob that he’d been holding in since he laid eyes on him.
—
Brooklyn, 2005.
The putrid stench of the crime scene hit Detective Jeon hard the very moment he stepped into the apartment. Of course, most of the cases he had ever handled weren’t of the most enticing odours, but this one absolutely reeked. People always said that when you did something long enough, you eventually got used to it and fell into your life like routine. That wasn’t always the case, especially not when you worked for Homicide. The longer you stayed, the more you wanted to leave.
“Where’s the body?” He asked Detective Jung, his partner and closest friend in the force, as he looked around the small, dingy space. Whoever lived there sure was unfortunate.
Detective Jung didn’t speak, only led him towards the open door to their right which he assumed was the bedroom. Jung slowly clasped a gloved hand over his nose as he went in and Jeon followed suit. The wretched stench escalated to levels beyond unbearable as soon as they stepped inside, and he was greeted with a sight he had never seen before in his five years in the force.
“What the fuck.” He muttered under his breath as he stopped in his tracks, standing right in front of the wooden chair situated in the middle of the room. Just as he read in the initial report, the room was stripped clean of everything — the bed, the nightstand, the closet, even the photographs that hung on the wall and the trash that littered around the room — save for the chair where a young man was left sitting post-mortem.
The victim’s neck was cut deeply and his torso was split open from the chest down to the stomach, his blood pooling on the floor under him. “What on Earth?” A chill ran down his spine and he got the strangest feeling of déja vù.
“Fucking horrible. The call came from inside the house, from the phone in the living room. We dusted it for prints but came up with nothing.” Jung shook his head.
“The caller is our killer.” He nodded as he slowly pieced evidences together in his mind. Something about the victim caught his attention, though. “I feel like I know him.”
“Jeongguk, you know better than to get attached to these cases. Especially this one…look at that.”
“I know, Hoseok.” He waved off a hand and the thought immediately left him. “So who’s the victim?”
“Let me see.” Hoseok grabbed a clipboard from one of the forensics staff walking around without warning, and his action was returned with a glare. “This here’s Kim Seokjin.”
—
Somewhere in the Atlantic, 1912.
One of the crew walked up to Seokjin and Chungha to hand them life jackets before heading on to distribute more to the other passengers. He didn’t put on his, but helped Chungha with hers before taking her hand and leading her through the continually thickening sea of people. They made their way to the decks where the lifeboats were already being filled.
“Mr. Kim!” A familiar voice called out from behind the two of them, and they simultaneously turned around to find Namjoon walking briskly towards them. Once he got close enough to Seokjin, he whispered to him. “I’ve made an arrangement with a lifeboat on the other side of the ship. Your mother is already on it. If you would please follow me, sir.”
It went against everything Seokjin believed in, and it definitely coincided with the arrogance and self-importance of their First Class peers, but at that moment, he saw no other choice. It was a matter of survival and he wanted Chungha to live through this infamous night because she deserved to.
With a small nod to Namjoon, they made their way to the other side with haste, but also with a perilous amount of carefulness so as not to alert any of the Third Class ticket holders of their dealings. Once they got there, he saw that a lifeboat was indeed already waiting, and a lot of familiar faces from the Snake Pit — both old and new money — were already in it.
“Go on.” Seokjin helped Chungha cross the small distance between the ship and the boat to ensure that she didn’t fall between the gaps before jumping in himself.
“Lower it down, boys!” A strong voice called out — a voice he recognized so well through the test of a myriad of lifetimes.
Seokjin turned around slowly, already prepared for the inevitable shattering of his heart, and met dark eyes that he had never seen in this lifetime but was something so familiar to him.
“Easy there, lads.”
The older man felt his breath catch in his throat as the shipman held his gaze, doe eyes glassy against the bright lights of the ship deck and recognition apparent in them. They forget about the rest of the world in that one small moment that they share on a sinking ship on the first time they ever meet in this life. Jeongguk tipped his hat ever so slightly at him and smiled faintly before going back to presiding the lowering of the boat. Seokjin was only brought back to reality when he felt a light tug on his sleeve.
“Are you alright?” Chungha looked up at him with eyes full of concern, and Seokjin again felt sorry. He didn’t deserve her.
“Yeah.” He inhaled audibly, exhaled sharply, and then strained a smile as he looked back down at her. “Yeah, I am.”
—
Mapleton, 1992.
They capped off the day with the annual barbecue party at the university’s amphitheater with more than half the town in attendance with them.
Seokjin, as usual, was unable to evade unwarranted attention. The very moment the three of them even got near the amphitheater, many of the townspeople already recognized him. The well-renowned scientist—Tony Stark rip-off as Jeongguk liked to call him now—was quickly stolen away from them by the mayor, of all people.
Much to their frustration, they themselves were subjected to being pulled into groups they didn’t want to interact with at that moment. Yoongi was forced by Jimin to spend some time with their peers, and Jeongguk was dragged by Taehyung to where the college football team was gathered, by the quieter parts of the amphitheater, particularly the threshold between it and the town’s small forest. The boys had their own small barbecue party and a few of them had brought coolers with a hearty amount of beers. He fervently refused at first, but eventually gave in when he noticed his brother downing a few drinks himself.
As the night dragged on, Jeongguk found himself completely immersed in whatever the hell he and the boys were talking about—the alcohol was already getting the best of him—and was close to forgetting everyone around him.
He quickly snapped out of his stupor when he saw Seokjin standing by the edge of the small forest, the outskirts that led to the lake, alone.
Jeongguk got up to his feet and walked towards him after discarding an empty can of beer in one of the garbage bags he found lying around. He almost tripped on his face on his way, and Seokjin laughed softly at him.
“Find that funny, do you?” He said in faux exasperation as he stood beside Seokjin.
“No.” Seokjin pursed his lips in an attempt to stop himself from laughing or smiling. The attempt was in vain when he failed to stop the small crack of a smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. “Well, yes.”
The younger man sighed then, an air of seriousness suddenly overcoming him. “So, what happens now?”
“What?” Seokjin looked up at him in utter confusion.
“I mean, you’re leaving, right? Tomorrow?” Jeongguk raised an eyebrow, also looking confused, but more at Seokjin than himself.
“You are so drunk.” Seokjin shook his head and chuckled lightly. “I’m gonna be here until Sunday.”
“Oh.” Jeongguk answered, suddenly remembering. “Right. Sunday. Well, that’s good.”
The older man didn’t say anything in answer. He only looked back at Jeongguk with the same measuring look he’d given him earlier in the day. The football coach suddenly felt uncomfortable, suddenly felt small underneath that piercing, gauging gaze, but he answered it with a gaze of his own. He figured they needed time before they could start talking normally again. What better way to cure the test of time than with time itself, right?
Just when he thought silence was enough and he wouldn’t have to deal with any conversations he didn’t want to have, Seokjin spoke up. “So, are you married?”
“What?” Jeongguk asked, unsure if he heard it right the first time.
Seokjin scoff-chuckled, that bizarre habit of his. “Did you get to tie the knot?”
“No.” Jeongguk answered quickly. So quickly that it sounded defensive. “No, I didn’t.”
A huge, bright smile crossed Seokjin’s face, the brightest he’s smiled today, and—God help him—that smile did things to Jeongguk. “Good, because my plans to stay would be for nothing if you were, you know.”
“Plans to—?” Jeongguk was unsure if he heard that right. He was almost certain he could no longer trust his ears. “What? Here? Mapleton?”
“Where else, you oaf?” Seokjin laughed. “I’ve been thinking about it since this morning.”
Jeongguk didn’t know what to feel, how to feel. There was elation, of course, but Seokjin had so much more to live for. He didn’t want to hinder any of that. All the great opportunities he had out there would be unlike any of what he’d have in their small town. “Why?”
Seokjin sighed, as calm and collected as ever. “The center of the world can be anywhere you want it to be.” He beamed as he looked back at Jeongguk, knowing that he full well remembered that this was his tagline.
As before, the dozens of times that Seokjin had said it, Jeongguk had the same response. “Even Mapleton?” A small smile also tugged at the corners of his lips.
“Even Mapleton.” Seokjin faced him fully, eyes shining brightly in the moonlight.
He looked serious now, asking and not wanting to overstep boundaries. Thirteen years worth of unspoken feelings suddenly became very apparent in the softness in his eyes. Jeongguk realized that here, now, was what mattered. How, even after a very long time, there was still something undeniable shared between them. Something so strong that it transcended time.
With a new-found confidence—all traces of hesitation suddenly gone—Jeongguk leaned in to kiss him, and Seokjin obliged by slowly tilting his head. Their lips met gently as they closed the gap between them. It was a slow and careful kiss, both of them still cautious and considering. Jeongguk reluctantly wrapped his arms around Seokjin’s lean waist, and his resolve became firm when the latter answered back by wrapping his around his neck. Seokjin tasted of smoke and wine, and it was as intoxicating as could possibly be. He was sure his beer-breath was much less enticing, but that mattered little to him now.
When they broke apart for air, Seokjin clung to him for dear life, as did he to him. He rested his forehead on Seokjin’s as they held one another tightly, neither showing any plans of letting go soon. A thousand emotions washed over Jeongguk then, but it was mostly a feeling of relief, an endless train of finally repeating in his head.
“I guess I can deal with Mapleton being the center of my world.” Jeongguk shrugged, and smiled the first real smile in years. “In this life or the next, as long as you’re in it.”
Seokjin snorted. “You’re still a cheesy little brat.” He seemed to reconsider his words. “Well, you’re a geezer now, but still pretty fucking cheesy, you know?”
Jeongguk answered with a soft laugh.
“But yes.” Seokjin’s smile grew wider and brighter, something Jeongguk didn’t even think was still possible. “In this life or the next.”
—
Now.
Seokjin was sitting alone in the studio, tired and sweating after another night of practicing alone. He’d recently returned from the jungle, and the ride home had been excruciating, especially the time he was on the ship and kept throwing up. Everyone else had chalked it up to sea sickness, but he was the only one who knew the truth — he was remembering.
When the door suddenly opened, Seokjin was a little surprised to find Jeongguk walking in. The maknae only looked at him through the mirror — a look that was measuring and asking — and Seokjin knew right away what he meant.
“How long?” Seokjin asked softly, afraid that Jeongguk might recoil at anything too heavy or too sudden.
Jeongguk smiled as he closed the door behind him. “Since that day in this studio when we were still trainees.”
Seokjin’s eyes widened in surprise. “That long?” It almost made him feel guilty.
The maknae’s smile only widened as he took the liberty to sit beside Seokjin on the cold, wooden floor, keeping no space at all between them. “Yeah. Don’t feel bad, hyung. It’s not like we can control when we remember.”
“Yeah, well.” He said, unsure what to answer. “How much do you remember?”
Jeongguk sighed as he reached for one of Seokjin’s hands, intertwining their fingers. “Everything.”
“Everything?”
“Barcelona, Chaumont, the Titanic, Manila...” Jeongguk trailed off, realizing that the lives they’ve led were far too many to enumerate. “Everything.”
Seokjin sighed then, squeezing Jeongguk’s hand as he tried to fathom the complexity and the mystery of their lives. How fate had always brought them together across decades and universes and realities. It was bizarre, frightening, but if it meant that he could be with Jeongguk every time — even in passing — then he had no qualms about it. “So what happens now?”
“I don’t know, hyung.” Jeongguk smiled again, even brighter this time, before leaning in to place a soft, chaste kiss on Seokjin’s lips. It was too quick for Seokjin’s liking, but the action, even in its simplicity, spoke magnitudes and lifetimes’ worth of unspoken emotions. Jeongguk rested his forehead against the older, eyes closed, but lips still curled up into a soft smile. “I don’t know.”