#28: Primrose Blossoms

[sweetestjongin]

Title: Primrose Blossoms
Pairing(s): jongin/d.o.
Rating: r
Length: 11,595
Warning(s): mentions of depression and suicide, angst/fluff
Summary: jongin thought he’d never see the love of his life again, but little did he know Fate had a little more in store for him

Author's Note: first of all, thank you so much to the people that helped and supported me while writing this fic. towards the end, I felt like giving up but thanks to them, I kept pushing through. to the readers and the mods, rest assured I will continue this au after reveals are made! I fell in love with this concept and because of that, this fic has become like my child. I hope all of you enjoy! Happy reading!






Black.

Nothing but black.

Black Umbrellas. Black dresses. Black suits and ties.

Even the sky seems to be trying to conforming to this color, the dark grey clouds mixing together ominously. The rain that they drop upon the earth makes everything seem dirty and a shade darker than it should be. The green of the trees and the soft grass should offset the dreariness of this rainy day, but it doesn’t.

Not to Jongin.

To Jongin, all he can see is the color black.

Even the small bunch of baby’s breath bending out of his hands doesn’t do much to contrast the ebony colors around him. The white of their petals do, however, stand out as they lay against his suit, but he barely notices. He’s been gripping the small flowers so tightly that they’re probably squished by now, them being the only anchor keeping him in this moment even though this is the last place he wants to be.

All of these dark colors are swirling around in his vision, creeping into his heart and nesting there permanently as the priest says a soft prayer. These colors, these feelings, they only leave the empty shell he has now become. The priest asks for everyone to bow their heads, but Jongin can’t take his eyes off the urn being lowered into the ground. He’s shaking so violently, like he’s cringing with every rain drop that lands on the metal containing the ashes of his beloved.

He hears every little tink as the steady rain comes in contact with it, and physically hurts to hear. It hurts so bad.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

They were best friends. Jongin had known him since he was a child, both growing up together since they were basically toddlers. They had a small, close knit friend group in school that they would hang out with all the time. Taemin, Kris, and Jongdae have been with them since grade school, constantly having sleepovers and driving all of their parents insane with all the trouble they would get in. They were as close as they could possibly be and even as they grew up, eventually adding Chanyeol and Baekhyun to their group as well, they were still thick as thieves. They all took care of each other, but Jongin always made sure to take extra special care of him.

It was last year of high school when Jongin realized he was in love with his best friend, but he was too afraid to ruin their friendship. So he kept his silence, figuring he’d confess at graduation when they weren’t so stressed over finals. They were planning to go to college and room together anyway, so Jongin supposed they would have plenty of time to pursue a relationship after high school.

But he was hit with a whirlwind he never saw coming.

Weeks ago, before their high school graduation, Jongin got the most heart wrenching phone call. He was gone. The news left him in a frantic state for weeks. Not only was his best friend dead, but he never saw the signs that the love of his life no longer wanted to continue living in this world.

Jongin can’t even function, especially now as the crowd slowly disperses. He stares at the grave from afar, unblinking, and pays no mind to his best friend’s crying parents trying to thank him for coming today. He should feel bad about being so unresponsive but he can’t take his eyes off the layers of soil being gently laid across the small hole containing the urn, especially when they cover it with a gravestone a few moments later.

He grits his teeth when his best friend’s mother hugs him, his entire body tensing up. Jongin’s own mother seems to notice and drags her away, leaving Jongin rooted to the same spot he’s been in for the past hour.

He no longer has the strength to hold the umbrella over his head, choosing to drop it to the ground when his arm gives out. He hates the small water droplets that hit his face, reminding him that this is real. That this is not some sort of fucked up dream.

That the love of his life has been buried right in front of him.

When everyone pays their respects, they leave. Only their friends linger, waiting for Jongin to take his turn saying his goodbyes. Jongin is the last one to approach the small engraved gravestone, his heart pulling in every way possible, like it’s trying to kill him from the severe ache that has been spreading there. He puts his hand to the cool, wet surface, choking on the sob threatening to escape his throat.

“How could you?” He says softly, stroking the stone like he used to stroke his best friend’s cheek when Jongin knew he was fast asleep. “You were all I had in this world that made me truly happy and you left me. Why did you leave me?”

The rain comes down harder, causing his hair to matt to his face. He stops holding back his sobs, the tears running down his cheeks mixing with the rain. His suit is starting to stick to him like a second skin, but he’s too numb to care.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you have to go and end your life like that when you had so much to live for? When you had me to hold and comfort you? I would have done anything to prevent this. Anything.”

Jongin’s words are a bit incoherent as his breathing picks up, his words coming in hiccups from crying so hard. “I loved you. I still love you and I know you knew. So how do you expect me to continue without you by my side? How can I-” He bites his hand as he tries to steady his breathing, but it’s hard to do when each gasp of air feels like fire in his lungs. He looks up at the sky a few moments later and feels anger boil in the bit of his stomach, raising his voice as he speaks, “How can I even think about continuing on when we promised forever to each other when we were kids?”

Jongin’s hands curl into tight fists as he abruptly gets up. “Did that even mean anything to you?!”

His voice echos in the quiet graveyard, the only sounds that answer him is the heavy rain hitting the ground and the small puddles gathering.

“Did I even mean anything to you?” he whispers, his face desperate as he stares at the sky for answers. The raindrops hit his eyes though, so he just closes them.

Empty. He feels so empty.

He stands there for a few moments before looking down at the gravestone. The flowers in his hand are a mess, some of the petals having fallen off from the intensity of the rain and the stems are bent and squished where he was gripping too tight. He places them down carefully, collapsing on his knees there.

He hears sniffles somewhere behind him and he knows their friends are probably in a similar state as him. He’s probably making it worse, but he can’t help it. He’s always known losing a loved one would hurt, but this is unbearable. He feels like he’s being drowned slowly, like the last bits of life left in him are being ripped from his very soul.

His sobs stop eventually, but his stare is blank as he looks down at the spot of freshly laid dirt in front of him. Jongin closes his eyes, thinking back to all the fantasies he had come up with of their lives together.

He would be in a similar position now, hovering over him as they giggle about something the other said. Jongin would smile at him softly, hands sliding delicately from their spot on his best friend’s shoulder to the middle of his chest. He would feel the other’s heartbeat in beautiful rhythms, hopefully even speeding up at the action.

Jongin moves his hands just as he imagined, but only thing his hand comes in contact with is the puddle gathering where his beloved is now buried. His face contorts as tears fill his vision again in a flash. He curls his hand into a fist and brings it to rest on his thigh.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you.” He senses someone behind him, but he pays no mind. His mind is in a frenzy right now and can barely process anything. He barely even registers his shaking is no longer due to crying, but to the coldness of the rain.

“I love you. I love you so much. Please just come back to me.” He sobs, covering his face with his hands. “Please.”

He barely processes the feeling of being hugged from behind and, for a moment, his heart stops because it just feels so familiar that his mind reels and he suddenly remembers the countless warm hugs he’s shared with his best friend, each memory of them holding a special place in his heart. He’s filled with an irrational sense of hope as he turns his head, heart expecting to see his best friend, but all he sees is Baekhyun’s puffy, swollen eyes.

He’s stricken with another wave of grief, seeming to go right back into his incoherent sobs and cries he’s been cursed with ever since he received that dreaded phone call. Baekhyun holds him tighter, whispering hushed words and stroking up and down his back when Jongin hugs him back.

At one point he carefully pulls away and looks down at the engraved stone, standing slowly. Baekhyun joins him, silently watching as if he’s waiting for Jongin to break down again. Jongin doesn’t know what to do anymore. He can’t just leave, not like this. But he has to.

His eyes flit to the soaked flowers, thinking next time he will bring something prettier. This won’t be the last time he comes here, he knows this, so he will get the best bouquet he can find. It would be nice to get something colorful to pop against all these dreary colors.

With a silent promise to return soon, he takes a step back from the lone grave. He turns around quickly, too afraid that if he continues to stare at it, he’ll want to be in a similar place in no time.


🌱


Jongin was doing okay for a while. He’d started to go through all of the stages of acceptance. Not necessarily in the order everyone claims them to be. One day he’d be so taken aback by the overwhelming feeling of hurt, that he wouldn’t be able to move from his spot in bed. The next, he would be snapping angrily at his mother, whom he knows is only trying to help him by encouraging him to go out with his friends to get out of the house, but he can’t help it. His mood turns on a dime so often, he’s scared to go out. Scared to show others just how broken he has become.

He is though, able to go some days, even weeks without crying. He figures he’s just becoming numb to it all. His mother calls it progress, but he’s not sure what to think of it. A part of him wants desperately to make this pain he is wallowing in stop, but the wounds on his heart are just too much to bear at the moment. The thought of moving on seems almost like an impossible feat.

It’s a couple months after the funeral, and Jongin goes out with his friends for the first time since his love’s death. Everything seemed well and they all decided to go to a random restaurant that happened to be nearby. Jongin wasn’t really paying attention, doing his best to focus on the jokes Chanyeol was trying to make about one of their old teachers. Jongdae was the one driving, only speaking up when they pulled into the dingy looking parking lot.

“Guys we should do the giant pork bun challenge while we’re here.”

Everyone hoots in agreement, but Jongin felt his stomach drop. ‘It can’t be,’ he thinks as he gets out of the car on shaky legs. Baekhyun gives him a concerned stare, but says nothing. He just guides Jongin with the rest of the group, even as the taller boy gapes at the store front.

They walk in and Jongin feels like he’s in some sort of daze, flashbacks clouding his vision as Yifan tells the waiter they’ll take a table for six. He wants to join his friends in their excitement for good food, but the moment the waiter leads them to a very familiar table, Jongin’s breathing goes haywire.

The restaurant has a very quaint, homey atmosphere Jongin loved the moment he walked in the first time. It was a couple months ago, a few days before finals were due, and he needed a break from the stuffy libraries and all of the cramming he had to do. Not wanting to go alone, Jongin dragged him out too, saying he needed some sort of reprieve from all that stress. It was like pulling teeth at first, but eventually both boys stumbled their way there.

There is a tradition in this restraunt, that whoever tries the pork bun challenge gets their picture taken and put up on the walls around the booths. Jongin figured it would be cute for them to do so they could return and see their picture on the wall later. He never would have thought, though, that he would regret his decision this much.

He freezes at the end of the table, the rest of his friends having already slid their way into the booth. He stares ahead, hyperventilating and choking on his tears. His friends look at him with obvious alarm.

Baekhyun gets up immediately to try to counsel him. “Jongin? Jongin, what’s wrong?”

Jongin stutters out incoherent sentences, his eyes glued ahead to the wall. Baekhyun gives him a confused look, his eyes screaming concern. He’s about to open his mouth to say something, when Jongdae whispers a faint “guys, look.”

Everyone turns their heads, mouths opening in shock.

There, on the wall, is a single polaroid that seems to stand out among the thousands of others taking up the entire wall. Jongin’s bright smile beams up at the camera as he waves a peace sign. Across from him, is a boy with doe eyes and a heart shaped smile. Oh how Jongin misses that smile.

It’s silent as everyone looks to Jongin carefully. Jongin doesn’t really know what to do, so he steps closer and leans over the table to pluck the polaroid from it’s spot on the wall. He gives a shaky smile, stroking the picture gently. He holds it like it’s infinitely precious, like the smallest touch would destroy it.

It’s only then that he realizes when this was taken. He looks at the date written in sharpie at the bottom and gasps harshly. It was taken two days before the other ended everything. The information hits him like a brick wall and suddenly his lungs burn like he’s drowning again, just like they did at the funeral.

“Jongin?!” He barely registers Taemin’s voice, too focused on how that heart shaped smile suddenly looks fake and how his eyes look so tired and dead.

How did Jongin not see the signs?


🌱


Jongin’s not exactly sure how to get himself out of this rut he continues to put himself in. It’s like one moment he’ll take one step towards coming to grips with his loss, and the next he’s taking three steps backwards. All he seems to do these days is wallow in grief and he can tell his friends are getting upset with him. Baekhyun is really the only one that still comes over to his house since Jongin refuses to go out anymore, too afraid to find traces of his best friend anywhere. The others just settle for messaging him every once and awhile or skyping when they have time. Jongin notices it’s so if he starts getting choked up, they can quickly come up with an excuse to go.

He can’t really blame them, though. They probably want to move on from it all just as desperately as him, but Jongin can’t. He doesn’t understand why, but he just can’t.

Baekhyun and Jongin’s mother suggests for him to get some help. Jongin really doesn’t see any harm in it so he allows them to make the appointment. At first he has a moment of self doubt about the whole thing since he doesn’t want to be seen as weak or pathetic to the therapist, but he knows this is what they’re there for. He just pushes those thoughts to the back of his mind, deciding dwelling on it will just stress him out more than he already is.

He spends some time with Baekhyun before the other has to leave. He knows it’s not an excuse when Baekhyun tells him he has to go around ten o’’clock. He’s too much of an angel to do that to Jongin. Besides, Baekhyun has younger siblings that he has to help take care of and he’s already been out way too long, so eventually it’s Jongin pushing him towards the door with a small, strained smile on his lips.

Baekhyun never really wants to leave him alone. If it were up to him, he would be over at Jongin’s everyday, but he knows he can’t. He leaves with a tight hug and promises to come back over in a few days. Jongin closes the door with a heavy heart, sighing as he goes back to his room.

His mother peeks her head out when he walks by her room. “Are you going to bed, Honey?”

Jongin shakes his head. “I might watch a movie or something.”

His mother nods, worry clearly etched onto her face. She opens the door fully and pulls him into a hug. Jongin wraps his arms around her, too tired to start tearing up when she rubs his back comfortingly. “I’m proud of you for wanting to go to the therapist, Jongin. When your father passed away, I wasn’t as strong as you to do that. I bottled my feelings up and it tore me apart from the inside. I don’t want the same for you.”

Jongin holds her closer, closing his eyes as he continues hugging her. Jongin’s father passed away when he was just an infant. According to his grandmother, he was going out to get him and his mother some food since she was too tired to go anywhere and got in a horrible car crash. Jongin’s mother really doesn’t talk about it, and Jongin’s never really pushed her to do so. Especially now, when he’s gotten a glimpse of her pain.

“I love you, Mom.”

She pulls away and squishes his cheeks, smiling with tear glazed eyes. “I love you too Sweetie. I’ll see you in the morning okay?”

Jongin nods. “Night.”

“Goodnight.”

She closes her door behind her and Jongin continues walking to his room. He looks around, feeling oddly like someone is in the room with him but shakes it off. Lately he’s had this odd sense anywhere he goes. It’s strange and a part of him thinks he’s hallucinating but everytime he gets this feeling, his heart begins to hurt and goes back into his sobbing fits. Right now, though, it’s tolerable and he tries to focus on the movie channels on the small tv in his room instead.

He can’t make a choice so he just picks a random one and settles on it. As he watches the characters interact on the screen, he thinks back to his day today. It wasn’t so bad. It’s one of his ‘numb days’ as he calls it, where all of his tears seem to have dried up. He knows his mother and Baekhyun miss his usual bubbly self, so on days like this he tries to at least smile for them even if he doesn’t feel any sort of happiness. It gives them momentary relief to see, so Jongin is glad to give them a break from his normally morose state.

He just hopes that these numb days start to come more often. At least on these days he can function like a normal human being.

His eyes watch the characters on the TV and they widen in fear when he sees one of the male leads grabbing a gun. He frantically searches for the remote but the gunshot goes off and he freezes. He doesn’t move, not even paying attention to the other characters crying on the screen. His mind is racing for a few moments before it shuts down completely, leaving him a sobbing mess.

Jongin feels an irrational pulse of anger from being triggered so easily. He grits his teeth and slams his hand on his bed, glaring down at the comforter. He finds the remote hidden there in the folds of the blanket and clutches it to his chest. His breathing is labored as he glances up at the TV to see the female lead cry over her loved one’s dead body, a look of extreme regret etched onto their features.

“You,” Jongin says in a venomous whisper, “You deserve what you did to yourself. Do you see what you did to me?”

He’s shaking now, one of his hands gripping the remote tightly and the other forming a fist. “I hate you. I fucking hate you.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. What is wrong with him? How could he even think to say such irrational things?

His chest pulls painfully as he cries to himself for a few moments, letting the tears fall onto his lap when he slumps. He shuts the TV off when he gets his bearings, giving a shaky sigh at the blank screen that greets him a second later. He pauses though, when he notices a slumped figure in the reflection that’s not his own. He holds his breath, his head suddenly getting a little light headed. The figure there looks so achingly familiar, that he almost chokes when he sucks in a surprised gasped. They’re sitting Jongin’s desk chair looking down at their lap, but then moves to get up and walk toward Jongin.

Jongin tears his gaze from the blank TV screen and looks up where the figure should be but sees nothing. He feels a light caress on his cheek and Jongin closes his eyes, releasing a small cry in relief. Just as he’s about to call out his love’s name, to tell him how much he misses him- to tell him how much he loves him- the feeling is gone. Jongin’s eyes snap open and he looks around desperately.

His eyes dart to the TV frantically, going wide in fear. “No.” He gets up and runs over to look closer at the reflection of his room on the screen. “No. Please no.”

‘I hate you. I fucking hate you.’

“No. No. No.” Jongin screams out his best friend's name, his voice cracking. That feeling of someone being in the room with him is gone and Jongin has never felt this alone in his entire life.

He’s in the middle of yelling incoherent ‘please come back’s and ‘i didn’t mean it’s when his mother nearly breaks his door down to rush over to him. She holds him tightly as he twists his fists in the back of her shirt. His mother hushes him softly, crying herself when Jongin just continues to hiccup and hyperventilate in her arms.


🌱


Countless therapists and psychologists have tried to help him overcome his depression, but none of them work. Jongin is twenty three now and still shows no signs of moving on from his best friend’s death.

He entered the military to do his mandatory service a couple months after his friends shipped off to college, unable to stay in the town filled with now such painful memories. He threw out all of his college acceptance letters, since all of them had been the same one his best friend applied to as well. Jongin could have stayed in the military and found a career there, but when his two years was up he left despite the sad looks of disappointment on his fellow soldiers faces. He felt incomplete there, he felt so miserable and uncomfortable in his own skin as he slept in the barracks, almost like every fiber of his being itched at his bones. He couldn’t stay.

Now he lives in a small one bedroom flat that he shares with a Chinese exchange student named Yixing who is attending the college down the street. Jongin sleeps out in the living room on the futon most of the time, although Yixing tends to worry for his back so he they sometimes switch. Yixing’s a great friend and Jongin is grateful to have him by his side. He always makes sure Jongin eats enough, even leaving him little notes on the fridge to remind him to do so since the older man has classes to attend all day. Unfortunately, both of them really don’t have a lot of money to live comfortably.

Jongin’s living off the small paycheck he saved from his military service as well as the money from his mediocre job at the animal shelter thirty minutes away. Yixing works two jobs at a chinese take out restaurant and a cafe nearby. Things are constantly tight and Jongin couldn’t even count on his fingers how many times their water and electricity has been shut off since they couldn’t make the payments on time. Luckily their landlord is really lenient with their rent, so they never have to worry about being kicked out.

To try to save money, he skips meals, only eating the bare minimum when he can. Most of his grocery bill goes towards small, palm sized potatoes that he snacks on if he feels his energy depleting. Jongin will treat himself to something decent every once and awhile, though. Usually his roommate will tag along and split the bill with him if he goes out to a nice restaurant. He tries to stick to buffet style dining, of course, since it’s worth the price and he can eat as much as his heart desires (which is usually fried chicken).

Though Jongin and Yixing are close, the other man is almost never home due to his busy work schedule and hectic school life. Most of the time, Jongin is home alone during the day and sometimes late into the night. It’s one of the main reasons he took up a full time job at the animal shelter. When Yixing is home, though, he tries to spend as much time with Jongin as possible.

When they first met, Jongin had inquired about an add in the local paper regarding the older man needing a roommate. Right away, Jongin knew Yixing could tell something was very off with him so he came clean about everything. He told him the whole story, about the heartache of his late first love and about the need to leave his pathetic little town to escape the memories of it all. Yixing understood right away despite not being very good at speaking Korean at the time, and took Jongin in without even blinking.

Now when he so much as sees Jongin alone, he tries to include him in everything he does. Jongin finds it sweet how Yixing would sometimes just simply sit on the floor by his feet in the living room and study, or just have deep, mindless conversations about anything and everything under the sun.

Though Jongin told him everything, he fibbed about when exactly his best friend died. Jongin told Yixing it had happened a few months prior to him reaching out to be his roommate. In his head, it seemed like a good idea since it has been four years already and he should be way past this grieving stage he seems to be stuck in. The last thing he wanted was for Yixing to think he was weird or pathetic.

Jongin thought he would have gotten away with lying too had it not been for his mother randomly stopping by on a rare day he happened to be out and Yixing happened to be home. His mother told him the truth and surprisingly, Yixing never got mad or upset at him. In fact, he’s never said anything to Jongin about it, but Jongin can see it in his eyes. He has the same look as his mother does, like he’s overly concerned for Jongin’s well being.

Jongin tries to put on a happy front for him, remembering how hurt Baekhyun constantly looked when he would see Jongin feeling down. Yixing just continues to try to spoil him, saying things like ‘let hyung take care of this’ or even going as far as surprising Jongin with fried chicken for dinner. Jongin loves the effort his roommate goes through to keep him smiling, but even then, he still falls back into this pit of despair he’s dug himself entirely too deep in.

His bad days still come and go. Yixing has caught him crying by himself when he thinks the other man is sleeping on multiple occasions. The ache in his heart still gets so painful that he can’t move or function properly. On days like these, he’s a zombie at work, not even able to smile at the adorable little rescue puppies they have in the back. Even now, he’s constantly on the verge of tears and can be triggered by the smallest of things. Jongin just doesn’t understand, despite it being four years later, the pain is still fresh in his mind. The wound is still open and festering each day that goes on and he can’t seem to heal.

He can’t date either, he’s tried. May potential partners have come across but Jongin is too spooked. He continues to think of heart shaped lips and beautifully wide eyes looking straight through his soul.

His friends from high school, luckily, have moved on with their lives. Most of them have left for college and are getting jobs soon. Chanyeol is going to be a doctor in a couple more years. Taemin and Kris still haven’t really figured out what they want to do with their lives, but they seemed happy last time they all got together. Jongdae and Baekhyun are studying at an American school in Seattle and try to write Jongin often. They all try their best to keep in touch with him. Eventually, though, the phone calls and text messages stop, leaving Jongin to feel even more helplessly abandoned.


🌱


Jongin hasn’t had a dream that doesn’t involve him for years. In fact, almost every night he’s tortured with dreams of his best friend’s soft voice calling his name. Very rarely are they happy, sometimes being fond memories that still mean a lot to his heart. Typically, though, dreams for him occur in the form of lucid nightmares. He dreams of blood flowing from porcelain skin and screams of agony. But these screams aren’t from physical pain. It’s from the pain his beloved had suffered inside, the pain that he kept away from Jongin and the rest of their friend group. The pain that ultimately lead to his death on that fateful day.

Tonight happens to be one of those nights his dreams take a dark turn and Jongin gasps for air as he abruptly awakens from his sleep. He sits up and rubs his face, not even caring about the tears flowing down his cheeks. He places his hand to his chest, trying to will his heart to calm down.

Jongin tries to take deep, steady breaths. He looks to the clock and sighs in frustration when he sees he’s only been asleep for a few hours or so. Apparently the blood curdling shrieks proved to be too much for him to take tonight. He should be used to it by now, but he doesn’t think he ever will be.

He lays back down, staring at the ceiling. He chokes on a cry, unable to breathe, suddenly overwhelmed. At what? He’s not entirely sure. He’s tried to bottle up and stifle his emotions the best he can so he can be less of a burden to the others around him, but some days he just can’t take it. A physical pain sets in and every breath he takes feels like someone is scratching their nails down the inside of his throat until it’s raw. His heart is heavy, the only thing weighing him down and keeping him from running to throw up in the bathroom from the sudden wave of nausea.

His mind is longing, body calling, for someone to relieve this pain. For him to relieve this pain.

Jongin allows himself to sob uncontrollably into the pillow, knowing Yixing is out with friends and won’t be back until late. He has flashes of his love’s wonderful smile and fond gaze, but they quickly transition to the engraving of his name on a gravestone and the urn being buried with Jongin’s own hands. He’s shaking and wailing incoherent apologies even though he’s not exactly sure what he should be apologizing for. He just lets himself go, knowing these panic attacks will eventually die down on their own.

Two hours pass, however, and he shows no signs of recovering. In fact, it’s the complete opposite. It’s getting even harder to breath and he begins clawing at his chest when he feels like his heart is swelling from the inside, pushing against his bones painfully. He frantically digs through his sheets to find his phone, knowing this can’t be normal. He’s in the middle of dialing emergency services when his whole body begins convulsing.

Jongin screams, back arching off the mattress at the sudden pain that rushes through him. The blood in his veins feel like fire, flames licking every inch under his skin. He thrashes, his heart feeling like a balloon, expanding until it feels as if it’s going to burst. It’s when another wave of pain shakes his body to the very core does his eyesight began to darken. He closes his eyes and lets out one last conscious breath before he passes out completely.

For the first time since high school, Jongin feels a surge of freedom from his miserable life.


🌱


Jongin has no idea what’s going on.

He is weightless as a gentle breeze moves him along. He feels as if he’s rising higher than any building could go, but oddly enough he doesn’t feel scared. For a moment, he feels as if he’s outside and when he tries to look around, all he sees is darkness, as if even the stars had fallen asleep before his very eyes. He tries to move his hands as well, but realizes he’s numb as he drifts with the wind. He wants to panic, but he can’t.

“I’m here,” a gentle voice calls, echoing in the distance.

Jongin doesn’t know where to pinpoint the voice, but for some reason he thinks this soft breeze is pushing him toward it. Is he dreaming?

“I’m here,” the voice is right in his ear now, loud and demanding. It triggers something, Jongin’s world tipping on its axis and suddenly he’s falling, fast. He tries to scream but no sound comes out as his body feels as if it’s plummeting. He tries to reach out for anything to slow him down, but his limbs are still numb and in this darkness he can’t see anything at all.

He feels it, the ground approaching him rapidly and he half expects pain to set when he hits it, but it doesn’t. Instead, it’s as if something locks into place, like a key entering its destined lock and turning.

Jongin has control of his hands again and when he groans, he hears it in his own ears. His face scrunches up when he registers the heat of the sun on his face, a red haze engulfing his vision from behind his eyelids until they flutter open. It’s bright, but when he focuses, he sees he’s facing an open window, a gentle breeze hitting his face. He rubs his eyes, trying to pinpoint what just happened to him. Was he in that bad of pain that he passed out and slept through the night?

He sits up and stretches, surprised when he doesn’t feel sore. Instead, he just feels mentally and physically drained. Was it really all a dream then?

Jongin blinks blearily at his surroundings, eyes going wide a moment later when he realizes this is definitely not his shabby apartment by Yixing’s university. Rather than the ratty old sheer curtains hanging above his small window, there are long champagne colored curtains pulled to the side above each of the six windows in the room, all showing a wonderful view of the city below. Jongin looks down and gapes at the size of the bed he’s lying on, just now feeling how plush the mattress really is under his body.

The room, overall, is elegantly, but sparsely decorated. Jongin clutches the duvet to his chest and pinches himself to make sure he’s dreaming. He yelps loudly at the pinpoint pain and covers his mouth in horror a second later. He’s awake. He’s not dreaming.

“Fuck,” Jongin mutters, basically leaping out of the bed, taking in the room around him again. Maybe he sleep walked into some rich guy's house and decided to spend the night in his bed. It’s not like he was up to no good, so no big deal, right?

He frowns and looks up at the ceiling, cringing when he sees a large mirror the size of the mattress hanging there. He takes in his guilty expression and whimpers. “I’m too young to go to jail.”

“Good morning, Sir.”

Jongin screams, running to the closest corner of the room and hiding behind the nightstand next to the bed. His heart is in his throat and he’s on the verge of crying when he sees a man standing in the doorway, carrying a tray of food. The man pays no mind to him, only putting the tray on the desk in the front of the room.

He turns to Jongin, eyes a slate grey color. His gaze is calculating as he takes in Jongin’s posture, standing stiffly and bowing his head briefly. “My apologies, Sir. I appear to have startled you. Shall I come back later?”

Jongin gulps. “I- uh.” Shouldn’t this man be chasing him out of his house? “Do you know where I am?”

The man blinks. “You’re at your home in New Seoul. Are you feeling alright, Sir? Shall I call your Aunt to tell her you are not fit enough to attend the meeting with Aqiua Corp later this evening?”

Jongin stares in shock, mouth opening several times until he just decides to stay quiet. After a few moments, he clears his throat. His stomach lurches and he has a sudden wave of lightheadedness rush over him. “Uhm, I think you have the wrong-”

“I will be sure to call her in a bit then. Shall I tell you your morning news, Sir?”

“Uh-”

“Stock prices for SIA Robotics and Space Engineering have increased by seven percent in the last twenty four hours with the announcement of the new line of filtration and anti-pollutants equipment. From my calculations, it may rise another ten percent by the end of the month depending on the sales of the products. Also, the news of a new ship of people have arrived and are in need of homes in New London. According to the community forums, the locals are coming together to help them. I took the liberty of sending the necessary supplies-”

“Excuse me?” Jongin interrupts, voice timid.

The man’s words die on his tongue and stares at Jongin expectantly. “Yes, Sir?”

“Who are you?”

The man doesn’t even hesitate. “Suho, your companion, Sir.”

Jongin has a wary expression, holding his head and reaching out to the wall for balance. “I-I think you’re mistaken. I’m not supposed to be here. I think I may have accidently broke in when I was sleep walking last night.”

Suho tilts his head, blinking a few times. “I don’t believe I have an automatic response to that kind of statement, Sir. Perhaps I should suggest you to eat breakfast. You look a bit weak.”

Automatic response?

Jongin cautiously moves towards Suho, sitting down at the desk and staring down at the food.The rice is fresh out of the cooker and the seasoned egg soup in front of him is still hot, the steam rising and caressing his face when he leans forward to smell it. An assortment of vegetables are laid out on top of the rice and a raw egg accompanies them as well. He has a few other small side dishes he doesn’t recognize, more western looking. There are what looks like potatoes julienned and fried, sprinkled with a bit of cheese. He should be drooling like some sort of stray dog at the sight and smell of it all, but he feels nothing. He’s hungry, but he has no sort of appetite for anything in front of him.

The food does, however, put his mind in some sort of haze, one he’s only really experienced when having a fever. He’s weak, craving something and his eyes dart around the organized desk in front of him.

“Sir? Is something wrong? You don’t look so well all of a sudden.”

Jongin spots a small pad of notes at the very edge of the desk. When his eyes focus enough, he sees a drawing of a cup with swirling steam above it. Suddenly nausea hits him hard and he has the sudden want for something to drink. He looks up at Suho, confused by his own body’s reactions. “Do you have something to drink?”

Suho’s eyebrows raise. “Ah! I forgot. I will get your usual then.”

Suho turns around and it’s then that Jongin realizes why the other man is so strange. In fact, this man isn’t even a man at all. The back of his neck has what looks to be a dark blue casing, it blinking in certain areas near what looks to be small buttons. Jongin’s mouth falls open, his haze temporarily forgotten as wracks his brain for any sort of announcements that Artificial Intelligence had actually been achieved and manufactured. He knows he’s pretty disconnected from the world, but surely he would have at least heard about that little tid bit.

When Suho returns, he has a cup in his hand and offers it to Jongin. “Your coffee, Sir.”

The robot stares at him, waiting for him to take it. It’s as if he isn’t able to take in Jongin’s shocked state enough to realize something is clearly wrong with- Wait. Coffee?

A warm sensation creeps over his entire being like a slow trickle of warm water down his body, a bubbling resonating in his gut and rising to his chest.

Coffee.

He needs coffee.

But not this coffee being presented to him.

A flash of pale hands show in his mind, the sight of them blurry enough that he can’t see fine details, like if they are dainty or rugged looking, but just enough that he can see them making some sort of cup of freshly brewed coffee. He sees the pair of hands reaching for a can of whipped cream in what Jongin can only assume as a finishing touch, but the vision ends.

He’s hit with a splitting migraine afterwards, the ache so bad he can barely move. The smell of the coffee in Suho’s hands suddenly makes his mouth is dry, watering at the thought of the caffeinated drink.

Jongin whimpers, lying his head on the desk and squeezing the sides of his temples to try to stop the pain. He barely hears Suho’s concerned voice next to him as he tries to get his bearings. He just wants to cry because he has no idea what’s even going on. Every ounce of his body is screaming for him to go get the coffee made by those pale hands, but he hates coffee. He’s allergic to coffee beans to the point where they taste like vomit on his tongue. Even with the help of cream and sugar, it’s overly bitter and stings his mouth when he drinks it, caffeinated or not.

His mind is sent through a feverish haze once again and he groans, leaning back in the chair. Suho immediately lays his hand against his forehead and Jongin doesn’t even think to move away.

“Sir, you have appear to be out of sorts. Should I call the doctor?”

Jongin shakes his head and clumsily gets up from his seat, the chair scraping as he does so. Jongin stumbles, but regains his balance quickly. Suho is looking him up and down, pupils dilating and constricting like that of a lense of a camera.

“I-I need to go.”

“You’re unwell. I highly advise you to go lay down until you get your bearings- Sir!” Jongin pushes past him, steps faltering when he tries to walk down the spiral staircase. A new wave of dizziness hits him when he walks into what looks to be a luxurious living room. Flashes of walking through this home come and go, like false memories trying to imprint themselves in his mind. He blindly walks towards what he hopes is the front door. He’s not sure how it’s possible since he’s never been here before, but he makes it without getting lost. Suho manages to catch up to him the moment he opens the door and tries to step outside.

“Sir! You shouldn’t go out in your state!”

Jongin turns around slowly, afraid he might fall over if he moves too quickly. “Thank you for your kindness but I think I’ve overstayed my welcome,” despite how horrible he feels, his words don’t slur. “Tell the owner of this house I’m really sorry for intruding like I did. I really didn’t mean to do it.”

Suho’s brows knit together in confusion. “I don’t understand-”

“It was nice meeting you Suho.” He tries to give a small bow of his head and begins to walk away.

“Wait! Where are you going?”

Jongin should be going home, especially with how uncomfortable he is in his own skin and how the raw feeling in his throat is coming back, but he can’t. His feet are already on autopilot as he walks down the sidewalk.

“I’m going to get coffee.”

Suho’s protests are heard even when he turns the corner, but he pays no mind. He only focuses on the thought of those pale hands and wonders why on earth it only makes him want to walk faster.


🌱


Jongin has come to grips with the fact he has no fucking clue where he is.

Normally, he would have asked someone by now but no one seems to be out walking around like him and any time he would try to stop to go into a store, his body would rebel against him. In fact, any time he seemed to take a general step in the wrong direction, his body would respond negatively, his stomach threatening to empty itself and his throat closing up to make it harder to breath. What’s the right direction? He’s not too sure himself. He just knows that with every step he takes, in what his body deems is the right way, he feels better. Like the haze he’s been in is being lifted and he’s slowly going back to normal.

He still doesn’t entirely understand what’s going on, but he’s pretty sure this isn’t a dream either. He tries not to think about how the buildings around him look as if they had a huge renovation, all clean and new with sleek builds and simplistic styles. Or how the sky is not it’s normal blue; instead it’s more of an off shade of periwinkle, which is all the more strange considering the sun is too high in the sky to see the fading colors of a sunset meeting the darkness of night.

In truth, Jongin has no idea what the hell is even happening. One minute, he’s in his bed screaming in pain and the next he’s here. He wants to find somewhere and cry in frustration from the whole situation, but he can’t seem to pick a place without feeling like every ounce of his body is dying.

He’s been walking for hours now and is beginning to feel extremely fatigued. He’s fed up with himself at the fact he’s passed numerous coffee shops that would normally appeal to him, but feels no desire to even try to step foot in any of them. It’s getting later in the day and with his body growing so weak, he’s not surprised when his stomach rumbles in hunger. The smell of freshly made food makes him sniff the air a few times. He looks ahead, panting lightly.

Down the street is a rickety old diner with a mostly abandoned parking lot. It’s neon sign says ‘OPEN’ and for some odd reason, Jongin’s body leads him towards it.

The bell above the door rings and the moment he drags himself through the threshold of the building, that same bubbling is back sensation is back. Now it’s accompanied by a comforting swirl in his chest, the warmth violently twirling inside him. He looks around, slightly panicked because what the fuck is even wrong with him?

He sees no one there but an elderly man sitting at the counter. He’s about to call out for help, worried all of these strange sensations are a clear indication he should probably go get checked out at the hospital, but he stops short when he sees a cup of coffee there, whipped cream floating delicately at the top.

Jongin’s sudden craving for that specific caffeinated drink vanishes, the urge now replaced with a new one. One that has him looking for any other signs of life within the restaurant. He’s trembling now, desperate to relieve this strange ailment as soon as possible. A door slides open at the other end of the counter and his eyes immediately flit to the man walking out.

Jongin goes through many mixed emotions at that moment. The warm, bubbling swirls very violently again, like it’s telling him to reach out to this person, to hug them close and never let go, but Jongin can’t move. His feet are rooted to the floor and his heart twists as he openly gapes at the man.

His best friend, the love of his life, is standing there in front of him, alive and breathing.

His love makes eye contact with him and smiles brightly. “Hello! I’ll be right with you in a moment.”

Jongin chokes on a sob the moment he hears that sweet honey voice and goes to take a step towards him, legs wobbly. His trembling worsens and his body feels entirely too weak to be standing. Jongin watches as his love’s eyes light up in horror when he falls.

The last thing Jongin registers before he passes out is a frantic shout and black sneakers rushing towards him.


🌱


“Do you think we can sue him for throwing up on the floors?”

“Uncle!”

“What? The guy’s loaded!”

“Not with those clothes he’s not.”

“Both of you! He’s sick and you’re sitting here thinking you can win a court case just because you want extra money.”

Jongin groans, his head pounding. The voices around him die down immediately as he brings his palm to press against his forehead. His eyes flutter open and he’s immediately greeted with three curious stares. When Jongin blinks, he recognizes one of them to be the elderly man with the coffee from earlier.

Jongin feels a gentle hand carding through his hair and his eyes dart up to look at the man currently cradling his head on his thigh, the other’s fingers on Jongin’s neck to monitor his heart rate. Jongin tries to lift his hand, tearing up at the sight of his beautiful best friend’s face.

He chokes on the syllables as he speaks. “Seungsoo.”

When his best friend only tilts his head in concern, Jongin’s eyes flit to the name tag on the other’s uniform. The characters spell out the name ‘Kyungsoo’ there.

What?

One of the men tuts his tongue. “Should we take him to the hospital?” Jongin glances at him for a moment, taking in his grease stained apron and miscellaneous cooking utensils peeking out of pockets there. He must be the cook.

The old man that was previously sitting at the counter shrugs. “I saw him walking earlier. He must have walked a long way considering the last I saw him was Hwasa Street.”

“Hwasa Street?!” The cook shouts. “That’s almost in New Dublin!” He narrows his eyes at Jongin. “Don’t you know not to be outside exerting yourself for more than a few hours? I swear, kids your age never listen to the government regulations. They’re there to keep us safe and-”

Jongin shrinks under the other’s scrutiny and his best friend seems to sense it. “Uncle,” he says, a stern look gracing his features, “Please. This isn’t the time. Go make him something to eat. I’m sure he needs to replenish his energy if he was really out walking that long.”

The cook grumbles, shooting one last disgruntled look at Jongin before getting up and leaving. Seungsoo- no Kyungsoo?- gives Jongin a gentle smile and his heart automatically skips a beat. Oh how he’s missed that smile. His eyes are bright with something Jongin can’t quite put his finger on. “Don’t exert yourself too much or you’ll throw up again.”

Jongin cringes, his tears still rolling down his cheeks as he looks to the side and sees the spot next to him suspiciously wet, a mop nearby. Jongin tries to sit up, still a bit woozy. His best friend keeps a steady hand on his shoulder. He whimpers to himself, holding his head as he tries desperately to figure out what’s going on.

How is Seungsoo here? Alive?

Jongin chances looking at the other man, heart leaping into his throat when he sees those familiar, wide eyes looking back in worry. He opens his mouth to say something but is cut off by the elderly man still kneeling down in front of them.

“What were you even thinking being outside for that long? You could have gotten yourself in serious trouble.”

Jongin swallows, finding his voice to be thick and hoarse when he speaks. “I just...wanted to take a walk but I lost track of time.” Jongin’s still dizzy as his eyes flit to the man, unsure if it’s from being sick or from his best friend’s hand on his shoulder. The touch is so warm and distracting that Jongin has to focus hard not to lean into the touch because something isn’t right here.

The old man rolls his eyes, getting up. “If only someone invented some sort of hand held gravity stabilizer to combat that horrible pull.” His voice is laced with sarcasm as he walks away, going back to his food and coffee sitting on the counter.

Jongin squints in his direction, trying to make sense of the other man’s words but just whimpering pathetically when it makes his headache even worse. He feels gentle hands cup his face, pushing his hair out of his face.

Jongin’s eyes flutter open to see the love of his life give him a small smile. “Ignore Mr. Hwa. He’s just grumpy because Uncle burnt his pancakes. Here, let’s get you into a booth so at least you’re not sitting on the cold floor.”

Carefully, ‘Kyungsoo’ helps Jongin stand, hesitating when Jongin looks like he’s about to be sick, but quickly dragging him over to a booth before anything could happen. Jongin gives him an appreciative look, quietly asking for water.

‘Kyungsoo’ nods, running off to behind the counter to fill up a cup with tap water, back at his side a moment later. He looks at Jongin worriedly, not saying much as the taller male takes a sip.

There’s an awkward silence between the two of them, one Jongin really has no idea how to break. Kyungsoo seems to be in the same boat, though, only for some reason he looks mildly uncomfortable and confused by Jongin’s presence. It’s for that reason that Jongin has an irrational flash of hope, that maybe, just maybe the other man recognizes him.

Jongin fidgets under Kyungsoo’s gaze, looking at the other man cautiously. “S-Seungsoo?” his voice is soft, unsure as Kyungsoo tilts his head.

“No Seungsoo here,” Kyungsoo says, smiling softly when he sees the disappointed expression on Jongin’s face. “But if you ever need a ‘Kyungsoo’, I’m your man.”

Jongin’s not really sure what he expected, but he can’t really say he’s surprised at Kyungsoo’s answer. It’s obvious this isn’t his Seungsoo, not with the way the other man holds himself with a silent confidence or how his skin glows healthily, his eyes bright and alive. Actually, the closer Jongin looks, he realizes the man in front of him is nothing like his best friend.

Seungsoo always looked skittish and nervous when he was around people he didn’t know. Jongin’s always known him to have sunken cheeks and alabaster skin, shaky hands and chapped lips. The man in front of him is the total opposite. He has a slight tan, not as dark of a tone as Jongin’s, but still noticeable enough to tell he’s been kissed by the sun. His face is more round- more healthy looking. His body is muscular and fit, especially in his shoulders, and when he moves to rest his arms comfortably on the table, his biceps show through his navy blue button up.

Regrettably, Jongin does notice a similarity between the two. His eyes flit down to Kyungsoo’s hands, heart immediately lurching. The beautiful curve of his thumb, how the skin dips ever so slightly just before his knuckle and almost looks as if the nail is swollen at the tip. The gentle slopes created by the prominent veins, like soft desert dunes rising and falling as the tendons contract and relax with every little movement he makes. The long, thin shape of his index finger looking almost graceful where it rests on the table, the others mirroring it almost perfectly except for how the middle and ring finger have a few short little hairs growing between his first and second knuckle, something Jongin has personally always found endearing and cute. They’re pretty in a quirky sort of way, their slight curve that only Jongin knows is there. The way the fingers bend slightly in different directions, not completely straight but not noticeable enough to catch your attention unless you’re really looking.

It all comes back to him, hitting him as if he suddenly ran full force into a concrete wall.

Jongin remembers running the pads of his fingers over those pretty hands, remembers the exact way the other’s fingers would automatically spread to accommodate Jongin’s own as they lace together, fitting perfectly like two puzzle pieces made for one another.

Jongin stares dazedly at the other man’s hands, tears pricking his eyes because he knows he can’t reach out and hold them like every fiber of his being is telling him to right now. He doesn’t even hear Kyungsoo speak, only being snapped back to reality when one of those pretty hands lightly grips his wrist and squeezes to try to get his attention.

Jongin snaps his eyes up, a few stray tears he didn’t even realize were beginning to form suddenly falling down his cheeks. Kyungsoo blinks a few times, lightly patting the top of his hand that has curled in a tight fist.

“You don’t look so good.” He pauses, words drifting off a bit when he spots the tears. “Why don’t I go get you some food? You’re bound to be hungry after walking all that way.”

Jongin swallows harshly, voice hoarse. “B-But I don’t have any money to give you.”

Kyungsoo waves his hand, smiling reassuringly. “Don’t worry about it….” He trails off on purpose, staring at Jongin expectantly.

“Jongin,” he says, licking his lips and wiping his tears with the back of his hand. “Kim Jongin.”

Kyungsoo looks a bit befuddled at that, his eyebrows furrowing as if he thinks Jongin’s lying. He lets it go though, nodding and sliding out of the booth a moment later. His expression morphs back into a soft smile, accompanied by the steady glow of happiness in his eyes, something Jongin can barely remember ever seeing on that beautiful face when they were younger. When Seungsoo was younger.

“Right. Well try to keep sipping your water, Jongin. Wouldn’t want you to pass out on us again.”

Jongin manages to give the other man a weak smile. “Yeah.”

Kyungsoo stares for a few moments before turning around and heading to the kitchen around the back. Jongin watches with a longing look, hating how it feels as if he’s looking at the very ghost that haunts his dreams any time he even tries to sleep.

Speaking of which, what kind of nightmare is this anyway?

Usually things have taken a violent turn for the worse by now, going from breath taking smiles and little giggles to blood curdling screams of agony. To dead, soulless eyes staring at him until he feels the panic rise in his throat so severely that he wakes up feeling like an anvil has fallen and crushed his lungs.

So far, though, there’s no sign of this little reality turning violent. In fact, Jongin would probably consider this more of a reprieve from his usual dreams of his best friend, if it weren’t for the fact Seungsoo isn’t here, Kyungsoo is. He doesn’t understand anything and what hurts the most is that this feels so surreal.

But it can’t be. Seungsoo died years ago. This reality, this dream he’s currently trapped inside, it can’t be real. Jongin refuses to accept it.

And how can he? Everything seems so strange. The way the old man and Kyungsoo’s uncle were talking about not being able to walk outside, the strange colors of the sky, and even the andriod he first woke up to. It’s all so uncanny and makes Jongin’s skin crawl the longer he thinks about it.

He looks out the window, staring up at the pretty swirls of color in the sky. He squints a little, swearing he sees the outline of a semi-translucent dome towering high above and mixing with the gentle pink hues of the sky.

He really needs to stop watching those weird sci fi movies with Yixing because this is almost too much to take.

Jongin isn’t sure how many minutes pass as he just dazedly stares at his surroundings, but it mustn't have been too long since Kyungsoo’s pretty hands enter his vision. Kyungsoo slides a couple plates in front of him: an assortment of meat, rice, vegetables, and eggs. It smells delicious and it surprises him just how much his body is suddenly craving food, but he’s not sure if it’s from his exhaustion or because of the horrible twisting in his chest almost commanding him to pick up his fork and stuff his face like a starved man.

He hears Kyungsoo’s gentle laughter somewhere in front of him and when he looks up, he has a bit of sauce on the corner of his lips along with a bit of egg that has fallen on his chin.

“Eat slowly,” Kyungsoo says. “You might get sick again if you don’t. The Pull is no joke here.”

Jongin flushes immediately, wiping his face with the napkin he got from the little dispenser to his right. He apologizes softly, poking at his food. His eyebrows furrow as he processes Kyungsoo’s words fully. “The Pull?”

Kyungsoo stares at his and Jongin swears he sees a hint of suspicion in those dark eyes of his. “You don’t know what The Pull is?”

Jongin blinks. “No. I… I don’t really know where I am to be honest.”

The other man licks his lips, expression befuddled. “Well Jongin, you’re in New Seoul”

At Jongin’s confused face, Kyungsoo continues on to explain the ‘colony’ they’re currently on, how a well known space company started building it over sixty years ago since Earth was becoming too populated and the human race had to start expanding out. Jongin seems fascinated, much to Kyungsoo’s amusement. If he finds it strange that Jongin doesn’t seem to have knowledge about any of this, he doesn’t say anything but a small “you must have hit your head harder than I thought when you fell”. Jongin ignores it though, asking question after question.

It’s hours later when Jongin finally comes to grips with the fact that maybe this isn’t some sort of lucid dream. He doesn’t know exactly where he is as far as time dimensions go, but he knows this can’t possibly be something as simple as a dream.

Kyungsoo smiles when Jongin eats the last of his toast, giggling softly at the little yawn he gives as he slumps back in his seat. “You must be new to the colony if you were this clueless about it.”

Jongin scratches his neck. “Ah, yeah. I just got here…. a couple days ago.”

Jongin hopes he sounds convincing. When in Rome right?

Kyungsoo seems to buy it because the next moment, he’s reaching for Jongin’s hand and holding it tight. “Well welcome!” He face changes, smiling dropping. “Oh no you probably don’t have your housing unit assigned yet?”

Jongin gulps, about to answer but he’s interrupted by another yawn.

Kyungsoo’s eyes soften. “I know when I first got here I was exhausted so I can’t imagine how you feel right now after straining yourself so much.” He purses his lips as if contemplating something. “Why don’t you come to the back and take a nap in the break room? It’s only my uncle and I here so no one would disturb you…”

Jongin wants to reject the offer, not wanting to intrude, but his body feels as if it’s about to give out now that he has so much warm food in his stomach. There’s also the fact that the last thing he wants to do is leave Kyungsoo. He still doesn’t understand why he and Seungsoo seem to share the same appearance and he’s determined to find out why.

Kyungsoo grins and helps him out of the booth, hovering by his side in case he gets dizzy again. Slowly, they make it to the back, passing Kyungsoo’s uncle who seems to give them a suspicious look from the kitchen. Kyungsoo ignores him though, making his way to a little sitting area with a small couch situated in the corner.

Jongin sits there when Kyungsoo tells him to make himself comfortable, the other man grabbing him a blanket from a storage closet off to the side.

“Here,” Jongin takes the soft material and clutches it to his chest. “Sleep as long as you like. My uncle and I will take you to colony headquarters after we close to help you get set up, alright?”

Jongin nods hesitantly, thanking Kyungsoo quietly before he leaves. He turns and looks down at the arm of the couch before resting his head against it, spreading his legs out comfortably and laying on his side.

He’s so tired, he could probably sleep for days, yet his mind is wandering.

Crazy.

This is all so crazy.

He lays there staring at the softly tinted yellow wall, unable to help feeling happy, content even. The swirling in his chest has died down tremendously, almost as if it wasn’t there in the first place; however, he knows he didn’t just imagine it. He couldn’t of. It’s what brought him here in the first place.

He’s still not sure what to make of all this, even hours later as he just lays awake and listens to the dull sounds of Kyungsoo’s Uncle banging pots and pans in the kitchen, but all he knows is he somehow has his best friend back and this time he’s determined to take care of him properly.

Even if it means leaving his old life behind and adjusting to this new one Fate has so generously handed to him.

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