Work Text:
the following events take place over three years (a few parallel universes over).
seokjin is standing in the middle of a flower field. the sun is beaming down on him and bouncing glimmers of the different rows of flowers. there are orange ones, pink ones, red ones, purple ones -- chrysanthemums, bergenia, hibiscus, aquilegia -- all creating an explosion of color. and every color is almost too bright and too vibrant like he's stepped into technicolor.
he can hear the bugs buzzing, the subtle brush of the leaves every time the wind caresses against the field, a song. someone is singing but the voice is spread out thin like the wind and he can't make out any of the words. it's everywhere and nowhere at the same time, haunted and beautiful like a spirit that can't pass.
then he sees him.
someone sitting not far away from him, hair unruly and unkempt but intoxicating in the way that only a perfect mess can be. shoulders hunched over, a sweater that's too big to belong to him, hanging down his body and sagging.
seokjin takes a deep breath. he's been here before. dream or memory, he doesn't know.
but against his better judgment, he starts taking cautious steps over to the boy in the field. closer and closer, the song gets louder and louder. and he's within arm's reach. a hair's breadth away --
"the only thing i don't like about concerts is the screaming."
seokjin blinks.
he's somewhere else. it's night time and he's in the queue outside of club venue, a blue neon sign blinking orchid.
"are you listening to me?"
seokjin looks at his side where jaehwan is kind of pouting at him, no doubt desperate for someone to listen to his perspective on the negatory social expectations. seokjin adjusts to his surroundings. this is someplace new. "i thought that was the best part. the screaming."
"to a lot of people, yes," jaehwan continues after a few moments. "i mean, i know the people performing get a huge hard on about the screaming but for a person like me, a person who paid money to listen to the music, it's just annoying."
"so when they tell you to make some noise, you're just gonna sit there in silence?"
"yeah but it's not--"
"what a hipster."
"that's the thing, it's not hipster behavior, it's just, like, i paid money and i wanna hear the music live behavior."
jaehwan is wearing a grey hoodie with a dark leather jacket. the hood is sticking out of the jacket, hanging back and contrasting against his newly blonde hair. blonde haired jaehwan. the orchid nightclub. the pink hoodie he's wearing.
this is a memory. or something like it.
the artist they're in line to see has been making huge waves in the industry, topping charts, and getting a ridiculous amount of views on music videos. which, of course, means that seokjin is supposed to love the music because everyone else does. even if the song sounds the same as everything else in the charts.
"i don't even like this kind of music," he mutters to himself as he gets used to everything again. he's been jumping through places for so long now, he's gotten used to the incomplete sentences and the jump frames. it almost feels real.
he plays with the strings of his hoodie. stuffs his hands in his pockets and feels around. rolls a ball of lint in between his thumb and forefinger.
"jimin, over here!"
they both turn around and the purple sign, which was blinking inconsistently, suddenly beams right down on a young man smiling and cutting through the crowd like a staff. he waves a hand at someone and seokjin's throat goes dry.
time, if it be, slows down and the young man starts moving in slow motion. jimin starts moving in slow motion as soon as their eyes meet. when that happens, jimin's smile fades as his eyes start to take on this expression of recognition.
he can hear jimin's voice echoing from another memory, a relic of a distant past: 'don't i know you from somewhere?'
as jimin approaches them, time goes back to normal and the person ahead of them in line, a gangly kid with exuberance for a middle name, wraps an arm around jimin's shoulders and pulls him into a hug. jaehwan continues talking, unaffected. but seokjin can't tear his eyes away. and even in the midst of what appears to be a bone crushing, jimin keeps his eyes on him.
the person presses a kiss to jimin's cheek and asks him questions. did you find the place alright? are you okay? have you eaten?
jimin pulls away from his friend and smiles at seokjin. "i'm sorry, do i know you from somewhere?"
"i was..." seokjin clears his throat. "i was going to ask you the same thing."
the gangly kid watches them uncertainly but seokjin can barely pay him any attention. jimin has eyes that remind seokjin of the bed he still has in his parents' house. it's something familiar and warm and right. and he can't place it at all. "i feel like i do," jimin says. "are you from busan?"
seokjin shakes his head. "anyang."
jimin tilts his head to the side. "how old are you?"
"twenty-two."
"oh," jimin's eyebrows shoot up for a moment. "i'm nineteen. i can't think of anywhere. it must be one of those things."
"yeah," seokjin nods again and offers the first smile he has all night. "you know, usually that just means in a past life, we were quite possibly very important to each other. maybe something like soulmates."
"is that right?"
"one hundred percent right. if not past soulmates then future."
"dude," gangly guy interrupts the two of them. the arm he has around jimin becomes impossibly insistent. "don't get me wrong -- you're smooth and i like it. but could you try being smooth with someone who isn't my boyfriend?"
seokjin has an apology poised on the edge of his lips but he takes one look from jimin who shifts under the weight of gangly's arm to gangly who looks more nervous than confident. "sorry about that," he eventually utters. "but there's no way he's your boyfriend."
"excuse me?"
"i'm sorry," seokjin says again. "but...well, you've got your arm around him but he looks like he's about two seconds from cutting it off. and when he got here, you went in for a kiss and he gave you a hug. plus you're holding a rose which is the number one flower chosen by people who know nothing about flowers or the person they're getting them for."
the guy smirks, half impressed and half offended. "okay, macguyver."
"wrong reference," jimin says at the same time that the does.
seokjin wants to say 'jinx' but he doesn't want to risk making anything happen. he's lived this memory a few times before, he knows exactly what to say and when to say it in order to match the past without a hitch.
jimin smiles at him again and the edges of the memory burn into a violet beam and then--
"this doesn't feel real."
it feels cold but seokjin doesn't want to warm up. the coldness is the only reminder that this is real. next to him, jimin lies against the wrinkled bedsheets in his white bathrobe. his hair is still wet from the shower but he looks incredible and seokjin can only wonder what he'll feel like when jimin actually finishes getting ready.
jimin passes him the joint and continues:
"i mean...i know this is real, it's not the pot. but..."
"wait," seokjin takes a hit. "what exactly are you talking about? what's the part that doesn't feel real?"
"us," jimin answers simply. like it's obvious. but jimin has said things like that since their relationship started, always talking about the end before anything even starts. "every time you say you love me, it feels kind of soft, you know? like how you can never really tell what someone is saying in a dream because you can barely hear it? when you say it, it doesn't feel real."
seokjin swallows. "like i'm pretending?"
"not quite, kind of like...it doesn't exist. like you're making love up."
"how can i make love up?"
"love is kind of concept in itself, isn't it?" jimin shifts and rolls over on his side. the front of his robe is undone, not having been tied up properly. his skin looks like marble. for all of their relationship, jimin has always been an art piece that belongs in the louvre and seokjin has been a finger painting on the wall of a kindergarten. "i mean, who's to say that what we feel is what we really feel? like...you know how people say if you want to be confident, just tell yourself you're confident? how you can just act like you're hot shit and then you'll be hot shit? who's to say we don't do that with love? the filmmaking industry and the music industry all feed us with these ideas of what love is and how it's supposed to be until we're obsessed with it, until it's the only thing we want -- so, how do we know we aren't just making ourselves feel these things just so we can say we achieved a part of life that everyone says we're supposed to?"
seokjin smiles at him and leans forward to pluck the joint from between his beautiful lips. even when he's mad at jimin, he can't be mad at jimin. "i think you've had enough of that. come on, let's get ready."
"why do you always do that?"
"do what?"
jimin sighs and he sits up. he grabs seokjin's hand and wrangles the joint out of his grip. he takes another hit and runs a hand through his hair. "every time i try to talk to you about anything other than what you want to talk about, you brush me off."
"you're stoned."
"no, i'm not," jimin's voice raises a little. the way it does when he's stoned. "i'm trying to have a real discussion with you about our relationship--"
"about how you don't think we're real. just more short-sighted pessimism about how we're just gonna break up like we're just previews for each other before the main attraction starts."
"fuck you, i didn't say that."
"you didn't explicitly say that we're not real?"
"no, i fucking said that love isn't real. love love love -- it's a construct," jimin drags his hands down his face. he's stalling. he's wearing a ring that's never worn before, something too ostentatious and purple. not a memory. not completely. the words he's saying sound familiar but this isn't a memory. seokjin doesn't know what this is. "be honest, how much time would you say you spend actually listening to what i say instead of critiquing--"
"i'll get blamed for this," seokjin mutters. "you told me you were gonna do this, just go get ready. we have to be there soon, i know you're procrastinating."
"no, i wanna talk about this."
"jimin..."
"tell me you love me," jimin pretty much hangs off seokjin's neck. his eyes are red and watery but focused. he knows what he's doing. "and mean it. tell me you love me and make me feel like you're not just saying it."
"i don't know how to--"
"just say it. please," jimin takes a deep breath and licks his lips. "listen: i love you. you hear me? i love you. now, you say it."
jimin looks at him hopeful.
seokjin wants to say it the way it needs to be said. but even after running this memory in his mind so many times, he knows nothing can be said. he knows how this ends. he strokes jimin's arms, bridges from his neck. "i love you."
something in jimin's eyes burns out and dies. he heaves a sigh and pushes seokjin away, making a quick exit from the bedroom and into the bathroom. the room, a beautiful and classic hotel room if there ever was one, is too nice to be wasted on them.
"jimin," seokjin whines and drags his feet to the bathroom door. "jimin, come on."
he lifts his head, ready to knock--
"you made it."
new time. new place.
seokjin looks around. he's not in the hotel room anymore, no longer being choked and comforted by the cold. he's in a corridor he doesn't recognize, in front of a door he doesn't know, but jimin is on the other side of it offering his smile.
this is real, he tells himself. he doesn't recognize anything about this place, doesn't recognize anything about jimin's clothes or this time. he doesn't know what comes next. this is real. this is happening. this is now. "i did," he nods to jimin. "yes, nice place here."
"i know," jimin steps aside and waves him in. he laughs at seokjin's expression and shrugs sheepishly. he looks amazing, hair actually done and coiffed to rugged perfection. he's wearing something he obviously spent hours picking out but the way he wears it almost looks casual. when seokjin goes to sit down, he scoffs. "oh my god, get up and give me a hug. it's been years, are you serious?"
seokjin doesn't laugh, he can't muster one but he does stand up and wrap his arms around jimin. his frame feels familiar still. even in this moment that seokjin knows is real and is years from the last time they'd seen each other. that last big fight.
as jimin holds onto him, he looks around the apartment. there are so many pictures, so many, almost too many. but taehyung, jimin's newest boyfriend and, seokjin maintains, the reason for them breaking up is a photographer. it must have been romantic for him, falling in love with an artist and all. artists are known for their passion. maybe that's why it was so easy for jimin to leave him for taehyung in the first place.
he pulls away after a few moments and settles down on the seat. "so? this is a nice place. is it his?"
the polite smile jimin had been wearing fades a little. "it's ours."
"right, seokjin feels the cushions. satin. white. he looks out of the large window in the living room where a great view of the city is on display. for a split second, he thinks of jimin in a white robe sitting on the balcony, watching the city below. looking for him even though taehyung is waiting in the bedroom. it's a nice thought. "i gotta say i was really surprised when you called. i never thought i'd hear from you again after that last conversation."
"yeah," jimin looks down at his hands.
that last conversation, the conversation that broke them, was an ugly one. it started off well enough but seokjin, curse the quality, has always been adept at picking up qualities and shifts in mood. his perception of his surroundings has always been through the roof. for instance, as soon as he walked in, he noticed the cardboard boxes in the corner, noticed the complete lack of wrinkles in jimin's outfit, noticed the pale skin around one of his fingers. he noticed it so easily he barely gave it a second thought. the last conversation was a lot like that.
jimin had sounded distracted. then he got quiet when seokjin asked him what was wrong. then he let a few short long moments of silence fill up between them. and seokjin knew. he could tell by the way their conversations had become easier and light-hearted, a stark contrast from the real them that fought over everything because they were just that passionate.
and when he uttered those four little words -- 'you cheated on me' --, all hell broke loose.
even though, jimin hadn't technically cheated (he didn't sleep with anyone, didn't kiss anyone, didn't get caught up in the allure of sexting), he'd been intimate. he betrayed seokjin in the worst kind of way: he fell in love with someone else.
"yeah," jimin says again, voice soft. "i said a lot of things i wasn't proud of. i'm really sorry about that."
"don't be. you can't be wrong for being happy, can you?" jimin smiles at that and seokjin continues. "what was that thing you used to say? 'happiness isn't a sustainable condition'?"
jimin smirks. "i used to say that, yeah. i don't think i believe it anymore."
"taehyung's done you good then, huh? thats nice. nice to know we didn't end for nothing."
"...yeah, he's been good for me."
seokjin heaves a sigh. then he laughs something dry and totally unhumored. "please don't tell me you invited me here just to tell me how great your relationship is with taehyung."
"i didn't," jimin finally sits down in the chair across from him and releases a shaky breath. "i didn't. i just...there were a few things i wanted to tell you, you know? catch up on...i'm really sorry for how things ended with us but i -- wow, this is hard. i've been wanting to tell you that even though it ended the way it did, i wouldn't take any of it back for a moment. because i loved you and...i needed that. i needed us."
"...sorry but that's..." then seokjin looks at jimin. really looks at him. and he realizes what all of this means. this is real. "you're marrying him, aren't you?"
jimin's face falls completely. he swallows hard. "i'm--"
"i thought your finger was just pale because of one of your other rings but...the shape is too thin. you've got boxes in the corner which likely means the two of you are moving someplace else. probably getting a house, right?...but you took off the ring, why'd you take it off?"
seokjin continues when jimin doesn't say anything: "what, you wanted one last stab at me? invite me here under the pretense that you want to catch up but then...spring the engagement on me, right? one final twist--"
"the wedding's in two weeks," jimin says quietly. "i wanted you to come. but i know that you won't. i was kind of hoping i could ease you into it, maybe."
seokjin takes a deep breath.
he remembers the chain of events so clearly now. he can see everything happening to them at the same time. see their first night together, their last night together, hear every single crack in jimin's throat when they would fight each other too hard.
this is real.
he looks at jimin. "i've been dreaming about you lately."
"dreaming? you mean like sex dreams?"
he laughs. "those too. but, no, i've been having one consistent dream of us. of everything we've ever said to each other, every moment we've ever had. but it's all...they're all out of order and it's never the right memory."
jimin gusts out a short chortle, a snort of disbelief. "what are you saying?"
"i dream about the first time we met. you know, in line for that stupid concert? when you were on a date with that guy. and then just...every conversation we had but never a full one, they all kind of cut together like a poorly edited compilation. jumping from memory to memory. all of them are memories but...there's one that i know isn't."
"which one?"
"this one," seokjin looks around at the room again. "i mean...i dreamt this moment--"
"you dreamt this? us, here?"
seokjin nods. "it's funny, i don't think i knew you were engaged to him in the dream. but i had an idea. in the dream, i didn't have the guts to tell you either."
"tell me what?"
"how i still love you. but in the dream, i think you already know. i never tell you but you know. you get it out of me. and you tell me how much you love him. and i kiss you."
jimin's eyes never tear away from his. "how do you know this isn't a dream then? if you've dreamt it already? who's to say you aren't still dreaming?"
seokjin shakes his head. "i know i'm not."
"how?"
"because i still love you...i told you this time."
it's quiet for a long time.
a pause that stops the world.
then jimin smiles, looks out the window, and shakes his head.
"we've had this conversation before," jimin muses after a moment. when he looks away from the skyscrapers and telephone lines outside, away from the two suns setting in the west. "haven't we?"
seokjin nods. "so many different times. in so many different lives."
"so...how does this end?"
seokjin shrugs. "we wake up."
the sun is back.
the field is back.
the flowers, not too bright and not too vibrant, are back.
seokjin can hear the singing but it's closer now, more real, as tangible as a voice can be. the song is clearer now.
and then while i'm away
i'll wrote home every day
and i'll send all my loving
to you
the voice carries on, the singing still strong even when seokjin lays a hand on the shoulder, gently tugs at the sweater that's much too big. jimin turns around and smiles at him.