Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

FALL OF 2017

There is a small restaurant downtown with the ambience of an old golden age, though only about two years old. Sandwiched between thrift shops that are just as small, standing atop a cheap massage bar, the restaurant boasts its authentic taste for its mix of both traditional and modern cuisine, and of the heartbreaks that happened in between orders of chicken mayonnaise. 

Maybe the latter was an exaggeration, but if it were up to Haknyeon to write a Zomato critique of the restaurant’s exemplar service, he’d then add that it’s a great place to have your heart broken, because at least, the food is great and the staff are nice enough to offer you extra sauce servings and heaps of tissue should such a situation happen to you. Mr. Kim, the humble owner of the restaurant, nearing his 70’s, is a kind man who often personally serves his food—but only because it gives him the opportunity to nag him to his heart’s content. Haknyeon doesn’t mind because in the end he’s given free coupons, so who’s the real winner here?

“I am a man of business but I just hate it when you come over,” Mr. Kim says. “Though, you don’t frequent just as much anymore. I take it you’re doing well?” 

“I’m doing fine, Mr. Kim. Just the usual,” Haknyeon says. The bowl of chicken mayonnaise is hot, and it tastes just as good as the first time he tried the dish. He likes it with extra mayonnaise, and him being the customer who used to visit the place everyday for approximately two years already, Mr. Kim takes the liberty to remind the staff that it’s Joo Haknyeon’s bowl that they’re serving. “Did you miss me?”

“Absolutely not,” Mr. Kim is ready to retreat from where Haknyeon sat. “I hope that when you come back here, you’d be happy. You only put up a smile on your face whenever I’d ask how you’re doing, but I could tell that you are still somewhat sad.”

The restaurant is often packed during lunch and dinner time rush; the time in between is what he usually catches, because a quiet place is where the mind is usually the loudest. There aren’t much tall tables nor chairs, but there is one counter corner designated for middle-aged people to drink—sometimes people his age if they’re lucky enough to get away with a fake identification card. Mostly, there are only average cubicles, pillows, and a pendant light over the small tables that if you stood right away, there’s an off chance that you might hit your head with it. The place is aging well like wine—with it Haknyeon grows.

It’s been two years since his lover had left him on the very place, the very table, the very seat, and the very meal he ordered that day. He likes to think he’s doing well. 

Heartbreak usually ruins a place for someone, but Haknyeon came back to this restaurant almost obsessively as an attempt of finding a coping mechanism that might actually help. He thought that if it doesn’t sting him anymore, then he has moved on. Instead of the hurt going away completely like he hoped it would do, the pain remains dull and stagnant, but still existing. He doesn’t know if it’s worse than going through it itself. 

“Chicken mayo isn’t even our best dish. We serve other meals, too, which I think you’ll like,” Mr. Kim says as a form of comfort. It’s the reason why he’s been giving him discount coupons. “I’ll leave you alone now but before I do—” he walks towards the refrigerator near the counter, where the drinks they served are displayed. He reaches for a bottle all the way in the end, and comes back opposite Haknyeon. “I heard that your college entrance exams are near. Here, drink this right after you take your exam. It helps soothe the mind after exercising it for so long.”

Haknyeon receives the drink. He notices that it isn’t commercially produced. He could tell from the handmade label that it’s a personal brand, a drink made of herbal ingredients. He reckons Mr. Kim brewed it himself. “Thank you, Mr. Kim. I’ll drink it well.” 

He finishes his food minutes later and opts to take his leave, but not without yet another discount coupon. He takes one last look at the place again: it’s dark wooden furnitures and walls, the old paintings, the old ornaments. There’s also an old song playing from the 80’s. He remembers Mr. Kim’s telling him, it’s one thing to revisit the past, but it’s another if you chose to live in it.  He he bids Mr. Kim good bye and promises to come back again soon.

Mr. Kim smiles ever so gently, “If it doesn’t hurt anymore, then don’t come back.”

I

More than a week before the CSAT, Haknyeon hears a shriek and an exasperated sigh on a rather busy lunch by the bleachers of the field, to which he hoped he would spend quietly. Changmin spent the first ten minutes of break crying over the death of his ‘exclusive’ reviewer, thanks to the orange juice that he himself accidentally spilled. Chanhee comforts him by telling that it can still be resurrected if he’d just blow dry it, but the problem is the now unreadable, distorted math solutions he slaved over. It seems like everyone’s on edge as the CSAT nears, because well, it’s the biggest exam of their lives. 

“We told you to keep the reviewer while eating,” Haknyeon says. He’s sitting a step down from where Changmin is, and on the same level adjacent Chanhee. The bleachers have become their usual hangout spot, and compared to the lunch area, it’s much more bearable because of the fresh air—and should it be sunny, there’s a huge roof that hovered high above from where they sat. “It’s okay, you can borrow mine. Have the pages photocopied in a thrift market, so you wouldn’t be charged of plagiarism or something.”

“You’re an angel,” Changmin clasps their hands together. “I could kiss you right now. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Haknyeon says. “But I’ll pass on the kiss. Chanhee?”

“No thanks.”

“Ew, I don’t want to kiss Chanhee.”

“What did I do to you?”

“You nagged me.”

“I gave an advice! Jeez.”

Changmin and Chanhee have been best friends ever since they were just learning how to walk, with Haknyeon joining them not a few years later when he moved to mainland from Jeju to live with his aunt, uncle, and older cousin. It was Changmin who approached him first, telling him that he should join him and Chanhee because all of them were good-looking, and friends are supposed to be alike in some ways. Haknyeon remembers laughing and accepting the recruitment in a heartbeat. The three of them were stuck to the hip ever since. 

“What’s up?” A new voice enters. It’s Younghoon. He then sits beside Changmin, the latter simply pointing at his dead reviewer—it’s enough explanation. “Ooh, yikes,” is all he responds. Behind him followed Juyeon who sits next to Chanhee, Hyungseo who looks worrisome at a tired Jaehyun—a stark contrast from his usual cheerful self. 

“I need some support,” Changmin demands, leaning onto his boyfriend. 

“Ooh, yikes!” Younghoon says in a livelier manner. 

Haknyeon laughs. Juyeon then asks, “What were you guys talking about?”

“College,” Haknyeon answers simply. “Where were you guys?”

“We were dismissed early but Jaehyun went somewhere, so we accompanied him,” Hyungseo explains. Haknyeon doesn’t ask what Jaehyun exactly did; it’s pretty obvious from the war in his eyes. A consultation period is what it screams; although it’s already been taken care of for the past year, there are still some circumstances to be solved. Haknyeon doesn’t ask why but extends Jaehyun a small comfort. Jaehyun makes a strangled noise to give a sign that he’s still somewhat functioning. 

It used to be just him, Changmin, and Chanhee. Youngjae, Hyungseo, and Hyunjoon just joined them in middle school where all of them became classmates and instantly clicked. When Juyeon and Chanhee revealed that they have been keeping a secret relationship ever since the start of their first year, their groups just naturally merged, and all of them were able to overcome any ill sentiments towards one another. Haknyeon was never really fond of the other group at first (with the exception of Juyeon because he was really nice—he wouldn’t have been happy for Chanhee if he were just as bad as the other basketball players who were, in summary, fuck boys), because they were loud, boisterous, and often teased people whenever and wherever. This goes way back in middle school. Haknyeon’s aunt and uncle run a grill restaurant, which is just below their house proper; they own a small building in the commercialized part of the residential area of their town. It’s often visited by office workers, construction workers, families, and of course, students—students like their group. Haknyeon doesn’t have much escape, but on the bright side, they helped their family business boom.

They’ve grown older, though. They still tease people a lot, but it’s more of like an exchange of light joking as a passage of friendship or familiarity. All of them went to a camping trip once, two summers ago if he remembers correctly. It was extremely sunny by the day but extremely cold by the night. They camped on tents and cooked s’mores by the campfire, most of which were burnt, but they didn’t mind since it was a moment where all of them got to sit down and share their personal stories with each other. Not long after the whole thing, Changmin decided to go out with Younghoon, who’s been pursuing (and teasing) him since forever. The camping trip was monumental in many ways: one of which involved Haknyeon and an incident he doesn’t exactly regret, but wished he’d forgotten. 

“How are you guys holding up with the reviews?” It’s almost a rhetorical question, because of course they were, but Jaehyun just probably wants to talk about anything to make himself feel better. In perspective, all of them have been very busy; now is just the most of their group sat together in a long time. 

Haknyeon needn’t ask Juyeon because he knew Chanhee was spartan reviewing him more than he’s reviewing himself for the exams. It might not be obvious from his idle stature, but Juyeon’s stressed out because he’s desperate to get in the same university as his boyfriend—and if there’s one person who can get a near perfect or perfect CSAT score, it’d definitely be Chanhee. 

“I just want to get it over with but if it’s over then I wouldn’t know what to do,” Juyeon tells them. “All I know is that I don’t want to take it again.”

“Same here. I was in the tuition center with Sunwoo last night until midnight,” Younghoon says. “Oh, and speak of the devil—”

Kim Sunwoo arrives with an ill-fitting green track suit, and Hyunjoon and Youngjae who walked closely behind him, dying of laughter. Well, Hyunjoon had the audacity to stifle a laugh at first, but as soon as Youngjae bursted one, he started following as well.

“What happened to you guys?” Changmin asks. 

“Can I tell the story?” Youngjae asks Sunwoo excitedly. The latter just grunts—whether or not he gives his approval, Youngjae would just end up telling the story anyway. Friends like to torment each other like that.

“So, Mr. Sunwoo here broke up with his girlfriend—yes, the very same first year who everyone fawned for. Eunjung got so mad at him that she threw her packed pasta all over him. Us being the good friends we are accompanied him to the lockers so that he could get himself changed. When he got out, Eunjung’s friends were waiting for him outside, and then—” Youngjae’s telling the story with so much passion—it almost looks like a one-man theatrical show with all the hand gestures and pacing. “Here’s the best part: they poured orange juice all over him! Can you fucking believe!”

“His track suit got stained, so he’s borrowing mine,” Hyunjoon adds. “All of you should have seen it.”

“Okay, are you guys done? Now tell me, what did you guys earn for embarrassing me?”

“Aw, don’t be mad! All of us have had a fair share of crazy exes,” Youngjae pauses. “Well, not really, but you know.”

“Now what did we tell you about dating a junior,” Younghoon inputs.  

“Okay, I get it. Please if you’re just gonna torment me about this, do it now so all of you won’t have to do it later.”

“Oh, we’re never gonna live this down. I have something to hold against you,” Changmin says rather too happily, suddenly forgetting about his reviewer fiasco. This is far more interesting.

“I’m feeling happy now,” Jaehyun adds. 

“Thank you for the support,” Sunwoo grumbles. “Really, guys. I feel the love.”

“But hey,” Chanhee starts—voice of reason. “She’s kind of a bitch so…”

“It’s not your loss,” Juyeon finishes Chanhee’s trail of thought. “Sorry but you know, we just thought you deserved better.”

“I know. I never really liked her,” Sunwoo admits. “Jeez, I’m not bummed about it. It was only a three-month old relationship.”

A three-month relationship is still pretty long is what Haknyeon wanted to say. He reserves his comments whilst watching his friends banter and threaten each other blackmails. It seems to have woken Jaehyun’s spirit, and Changmin, known as a serial blackmail collector (it’s not even a blackmail! Sunwoo argued, but Changmin insisted that if Sunwoo teases him about anything again, he’d retell the story just to shut him up. That’s still blackmail according to Changmin), isn’t so sad anymore about his reviewer. It was a very mundane moment that only took up a few minutes of their lives, but it was enough to lift the heavy weight of pressure on their shoulders. He catches Sunwoo’s eye just as briefly and Haknyeon wonders why that out of all the people in the group, it’s him who he just can’t be closer with. Despite Sunwoo’s cold demeanor, he’s actually very friendly and got along with people well—Haknyeon’s the same but for some reason, they just couldn’t click. The last and only time they’ve had a real conversation, as in just the two of them exclusively, was when they stargazed and shared a tent during their camping trip. It was one of the most pleasant experiences Haknyeon has ever had; a peace of mind that he always looked for and wanted. Maybe because of that, they didn’t talk each other as much after, and to be quite honest, Haknyeon’s grown quite afraid of confronting something especially if it’s already overdue. Sunwoo seems to respect that and doesn’t about it either. They only interact through casual hello’s and food inquiries during lunch that never evolved into a full-blown discussion. Their friends never seemed to question their dynamic.

However, Haknyeon still yearns to develop a friendship with him. They both share a love for sports—Sunwoo with soccer as he’s the ace and the captain of his own team, and him with sprinting though he quit the team long ago. It will be enough to break the ice. Haknyeon just needs time.

The alarm breaks their little solitude. Chanhee sets it up because the school bell can’t be heard from this far, since they sat on the far side of the field. From the entrance, you’d have to run all the way to the other end to get to where they were. It is not just them who sat on the bleachers—other groups as well, though much rarer than the frequent occupancy at the lunch area. Sometimes there are screams, sometimes there are laughters, but what Haknyeon loved the most about the spot is the ‘sometimes’ relative silence.

“Good luck,” Sunwoo says, suddenly coming up to him as they walk behind the group, thereafter advancing to Younghoon and Jaehyun’s pace. Haknyeon watches them separate from the whole group to enter their classroom. It’s brief but it’s enough to leave Haknyeon somehwat bewildered. The feeling later transforms into a simple pleasant surprise, though. He couldn’t be any more glad of the words said to him, even if he didn’t really have the chance to reply.  

After school, Haknyeon spends the rest of his night at a public study hall downtown. Chanhee reviewed both him and Juyeon, and a few hours later, the couple decided to go home, leaving only him alone as per his own request. Changmin has joined their review sessions a few times, and if not, he’s attending private tutoring. 

He left the study hall in its closing time clutch. He visited so frequently that the watcher doesn’t scold him for holding off their closing hours a few minutes later, but instead gives him a pat on the back with a kind smile. He then ventures off to the still-lit, bustling downtown, where many cars and buses still ran even at the late hour. He decides that he should grab something before going home. There aren’t much restaurants open anymore, but there is a 24/7 sushi bar across the street—its neon signage flickering perfectly against the dark. He wouldn’t have noticed it at daylight, since it’s overwhelmingly surrounded by food chains and other bigger start-ups, but his stomach was grumbling and he’d literally take anything at the moment. Owl Sushi is what it’s called and they serve not just sushi but full meals and drinks as well. 

He’s the only customer at the hour, but there are still a few staff who are awake enough to greet him. 

“Haknyeon?” 

Much to his surprise, Sunwoo stands before him, wearing an apron with the store’s logo stamped on it along with a matching hat clipped to his hair. He was sitting at the far corner of the counter on his phone, conversing with the chef stationed at the same counter as him—only looking up the moment he heard the door slide open. Haknyeon is usually unaware of Sunwoo’s after school whereabouts, except that he’s cram school buddies with Younghoon. 

“You work here?” There is an obvious answer to his question, but it’s all he could come up of given the situation. They’re not close and if left alone, they’re mostly awkward. With no other choice, he approaches the cash register where Sunwoo stood.  

“Yeah, for a few months already,” Sunwoo answers. “You didn’t know?”

“No, I didn’t even know you had a part-time job in the first place,” Haknyeon says. “So, it’s soccer practice, cram school, and part-time job, huh?”

“You’re just speaking to a fraction of my soul right now,” Sunwoo jokes. “Anyway, what can I get for you?”

Haknyeon orders for the mixed plate. He’s the only customer at the moment, so the chef immediately gets to work. Haknyeon sits on the same counter to watch the chef prepare the ingredients while Sunwoo walks over to hand him the receipt. “Wait—is it for take out or dine in?”

Haknyeon pauses thoughtfully. He’d originally planned a take out and go but something tells him to stay. “Dine in,” he answers.

Sunwoo nods. “Oh, alright. Sorry, I just assumed you’d take out.”

“It’s fine,” Haknyeon waves off. “So… is this your first part-time job?”

“No, I worked at Mr. Kim’s. It’s just a few blocks away.”

Hakyeon’s eyebrows shot up. “Mr. Kim’s? I’m there almost all the time. How come I’ve never come across you?”

“I quit early,” Sunwoo says. “I don’t know why, though.”

Haknyeon nods. There it is again—the awkward silence that never seems to leave the both of them, but they try their best. It’s not like they hated each other, but they haven’t been around each other enough to know what were their likes and dislikes. The camping trip is another story in itself but not one of them bring it up for the sake of the conversation. 

“Thank you,” Haknyeon says all of the sudden. “For wishing me luck earlier. Good luck to you, too. Are you planning to pursue soccer professionally?”

“If given the chance,” Sunwoo says. “I was offered a sports scholarship and I’m willing to play. I don’t know if it’s enough to get into the National Team, so wherever the wind blows, I guess. All I know is that I want to keep playing. How about you?”

“Just taking an academic course,” Haknyeon says whilst taking the dish the chef had finished over the counter. Sunwoo gets him a pair of chopsticks and a heap of tissue. He takes a bite of one of the makis prepared. “Oh wow, this is really good.”

“Weren’t you offered a scholarship, too?” Sunwoo questions. “For sprinting.”

It wasn’t just one but two scholarships. It’s not because he was academically inclined, but because he used to be a prodigy in sprinting. Up to this day, he’s still believed to be so, and even though he’s not part of the varsity team anymore, his coach still commends him to colleges. 

“Yeah, but I don’t know if I should take it,” Haknyeon says, taking another bite of sushi. “I mean, I haven’t sprinted in a long time except for Sport Festivals.”

It’s a common knowledge for everyone to know that Haknyeon has always been the ace of every sprinting team he’s been on, in and out of the school. He’d been competing at the ripe age of seven when he arrived at the mainland from Jeju, his hometown. Their middle school would have his face plastered on congratulatory banners along with other athletes who excelled on their own sports. However, it isn’t common knowledge that he already quit. If people knew Haknyeon only by the definition of seeing him walk the halls, they’d still assume that he was still in the sprint team. Haknyeon left before he could even start his first year of high school.

He’s glad that Sunwoo doesn’t ask why he isn’t part of the team anymore—he wouldn’t know what to say. Maybe it’s because of the knee injury he had back that one particular summer, but it’s just part of the whole spectrum as to why. They’re seniors now and even if it was so long ago and it shouldn’t hurt as much, Sunwoo understands because he himself is an athlete too. Leaving a sport you loved more than anything is not just a simple pain that would heal overnight.

“I remember when our teams used to jog side by side on the field during warm-ups,” Sunwoo says. “You were ahead of everyone even if it was just a jog.”

Haknyeon laughs at that. “Thanks.”

“I could tell that you love your sport a lot,” Sunwoo’s tone drops from light to serious, although it isn’t the kind where Haknyeon would feel uncomfortable about. “I just hope that whatever you’ll take or do, you’d be very happy and satisfied about it. You know, the kind where you wouldn’t feel a void in your heart.”

That marks as the second real conversation he’s ever had with Kim Sunwoo. Just earlier, he was thinking about their weird dynamic, and it was as if the universe granted him a wish he never knew he wanted to come true. Before he leaves the restaurant, Sunwoo hands him a bag of ‘healthy’ chips that sat near the door. It was for additional sales of sort but Sunwoo says that it’s on the house. 

“Take care,” Sunwoo bids.

“You too,” Haknyeon bids back. Before walking away to cross the nearly empty road, unable to shut his thoughts down, Haknyeon turns back to say— 

“Why is it that whenever we’d talk, I feel like I’ve had a million conversations with you before?”

Sunwoo doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. “Sorry,” Haknyeon says briskly. “I should go now.”

“I feel the same thing,” Sunwoo finally says, but his stance is dismissing, as if they’ve touched upon something vulnerable. It’s hard to describe their connection considering their weird dynamic, and talking about it just makes it all the more awkward. 

See you on Monday, is the last thing Sunwoo tells him that night.

His uncle drives him to school, his aunt taking the shotgun seat as a sign of their support. His school is just a walking distance, but his uncle wanted him to have an entourage before taking the life-defining exam. His mother calls during the short ride, and Haknyeon swears he almost cried upon hearing her voice, but not because he is going to take the exam a few hours later, but because he just simply missed her.  

My son, whatever your results may be, I will still love you! 

Upon the entrance, many juniors and teachers await their arrival. They hold up cheering banners and packs of candies and chocolates to shove to their chests, yelling good luck’s and you’ll do well’s. He tells his uncle and aunt that he loves the both of them so much, and both promised to pray for him in their local temple, adjusting the business hours of their restaurant, much like what the others had done to their own.

He only had porridge for breakfast, so his stomach didn’t feel as sick as it could’ve when he entered his assigned room. The atmosphere is tensed with silence, and his hands started experiencing cold sweat. The next hours are a blur, though, because once the exam had started, time went by quickly and before he knew it, he was moving on to the next subject without rest. Lunch time didn’t do much because he couldn’t eat his food properly either. 

The last subtest came by the moment the sun decided to just set. He is not in the right thinking anymore by this time around, flipping each page with growing desperation for the test to end. It does, in just half an hour—Haknyeon passes back the booklet to the aisle, not even debating with himself whether he did well or not. He saves those thoughts for another day. The proctor announces that if they’re unsatisfied with whatever their results will be, they can still retake the CSAT next year. Haknyeon shudders at the thought. 

His aunt and uncle were waiting for him the moment he exits the vicinity. He remains silent all throughout the ride until they’ve reached home. He doesn’t wait for the dark to completely loom the sky before deciding he wanted to sleep until the next morning. Below his bedroom, the restaurant bustles quietly with Sangyeon around to oversee it, coming home early from his uni to welcome him along with his friend Junyoung, who usually helped around as if he is really a part-time employee. 

His hunger passes after taking a shower, but before going to sleep, he knew he should fill his stomach with at least a light snack or something. He rummages through his mini refrigerator and finds the bottle Mr. Kim had requested him to drink after taking the CSAT. It tasted like the usual bottled milk tea sold in convenience stores, but the taste, if anything, felt more authentic than any. 

He turns all the lights off and falls into deep slumber after. 

II

Haknyeon?

Haknyeon?

“Haknyeon? Haknyeon, wake up!” 

Haknyeon groans, burying his face further onto the pillow, blocking out the sunlight that had filtered onto his room as his aunt draws his curtains open. His body feels especially heavy—the same ache he’d always have after an intensive session of training; however, he’s sure that the pain isn’t anything physical. His mind begs to recover from the CSAT. The cold, autumn air had him gripping his soft, thick blanket tighter, though his solitude is disrupted once his aunt’s voice fills his ears. 

“Can I just skip school today?” he asks, eyes still closed, voice raspy and lazy. “I just took my CSAT yesterday and I need to rest.”

His aunt strikes him with a pillow, yelling, “Are you dreaming? Get up right now, young man. You’re going to be late. And it’s your Sangyeon hyung who will be taking the CSAT soon, not you.”

What.

“What?” he squeezes one eye open. “What are you talking about, auntie? Sangyeon hyung is already in college.”

His aunt pinches his ear then, and he yelps in horror. “Ouch, ouch, ouch! I’m awake! I’m awake!”

“Go and take a bath before eating breakfast,” his aunt says, letting go of his ear. “And please clean your room up after you get home from school today. I almost tripped with all the books you have on the floor. Your dirty clothes aren’t going to pick themselves up either.”

Haknyeon rubs his eyes with the heel of his palm, readjusting to the light. His aunt takes her leave, not bothering to shut the door close, because otherwise, he’d fall into slumber again. “I just cleaned up—”

He pushes himself up by the elbows to a sitting position, his vision finally coming into a clear. At the end of his bed is a pile of folded clean clothes that he hasn’t stored in his closet yet, while the dirty ones scattered on the floor. He looks to his left where his study table was and sees it almost empty—it was just his laptop, a few unreturned books he assumes he had borrowed from the library and assorted pens. It’s considerably cleaner than his table yesterday, where all that sat were CSAT reviewers and highlighters he hoarded from a stationary store recently. 

He stands up and rummages through his things, finding no signs of his current books—all are stamped with 1st year. His school bag is missing, too, but the one he used a few years ago, sat on the chair of his study table; attached is the squirtle keychain he won in an arcade crane booth. It looks fresh, brand new, and smells of leaking cologne.  

“Shit,” he mutters to himself. “What the hell.”

And then, the most significant absence: his mini refrigerator. His aunt and uncle had bought him one for Christmas last year, in 2016, but now it’s nowhere to be found. His room looks alien without its focal point. The least he could do was maintain his his fridge well, saving it from the peril that is his life, so yes, Haknyeon is very upset. “Auntie! Did you take my refrigerator?”

It sounds like a ridiculous question, but his heart is pounding so wildly that he didn’t bother thinking twice. He’s missing most of his stuff, his room is messy, and his refrigerator is gone. It’s judgement day.

“What are you talking about?” his aunt yells back. “You don’t have a refrigerator!”

Haknyeon walks to his door to argue with his aunt, that yes, he does have a refrigerator, and they were the ones who bought it for him, but before he could open his mouth, he passes by his full-length mirror and gasps. 

“My forehead,” he’s talking to himself now. He’s gone crazy. “It’s not breathing.” 

He moves closer to the mirror, trying to part his hair to the side, but to no avail. Then, his eyes focuses on the calendar hanging adjacent to his closet’s door.  

September 23, 2015

He scrambles for his phone, running back to his bed where he would always keep it, charged since last night, even though it’d probably kill his battery and charger’s lifespan. He unplugs the cord, and presses the button of his phone into wake. The date also says September 23, 2015.

He’s about to scream—well, he actually does—that isn’t even his current phone in the first place, and the clock says seven in the morning, which means he has about less than an hour to get ready for school. He doesn’t remember his passcode, so he relies on his fingerprint to unlock his phone. Thankfully, it worked and he’s met with unread texts, reminders, and his Twitter account, which he doesn’t actively use, but when he does, it’s just complaints and pictures of badly filtered food, which he thought was cute back then. 

“Haknyeon, get down here and eat!” 

Haknyeon, still in the midst of panic, replies, “I’ll take a bath first!”

“You haven’t taken a bath yet?!”

He rushes to prepare his clothes. He showers quickly but thoroughly, blowdrying his hair thereafter, creating a part in his bangs to make himself look presentable. All dressed up in his uniform, he quietly trudges downstairs, craning his neck as he descends to catch a glimpse of his aunt, uncle, and Sangyeon eating breakfast. Now, would they go as far as to revive his old school bag, recover his old phone, outdate his calendar, and take away his mini fridge? If it isn’t a prank, then it’s—

“A dream,” Haknyeon says out loud, which caught the attention of his family. “A dream. This is a dream.”

Sangyeon, who’s wearing the same school uniform as him, frowns. “What are you saying? Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed?”

“I’m fine,” Haknyeon says in a small voice, taking his usual seat. His aunt had already prepared his meal. He eats in huge bites, not because he’s particularly hungry, but because he’s still in a fight or flight mode, and the way to relive such is to stress eat.

“Studying must’ve made you crazy,” his uncle says in a gentle tone. “Here, my nephew,” he slides a general amount of servings from his plate to Haknyeon’s. “Eat more.”

“Studying?” his aunt says and accuses him, “All you ever do is hang out with that boyfriend of yours.”

He was about to retort otherwise but he remembers the date: September 23, 2015. He’s in his freshman year and he’s supposed to be in love with someone. 

“Well, they don’t hang out that much, mom,” Sangyeon says in his defense. “Haknyeon’s pretty studious lately, am I right?”

“Yeah,” Haknyeon says absently. 

Did he perhaps time travelled? That’s impossible, right? It’s purely fictional and if it weren’t, should a scientific breakthrough like that be made public? Or what if the government is just smart? He’s going to have a headache. Not just a headache—his stomach churns painfully, and he feels like puking, but before he does, Sangyeon already drags him outside. 

They bid his aunt and uncle good bye. Before Sangyeon went to college, they’d always walk to school together every morning. If he doesn’t come home to help with the restaurant, he goes to his dorm, and it’s only then Haknyeon realizes how much he missed his hyung. He can’t tell him he that, though, because technically, he’s not in college yet and he still lives with him. 

It’s Sangyeon who says something about it, though, “I’ll go to college soon, and I won’t be with you all the time anymore,” nothing much has changed about their village; for the past two years, it still remained the same. It gives him a sense of familiarity. He just needs to get through today. “I just want you to know that I’m here for you always, alright? You can tell me anything, even if I’m already far away from you.”

He remembers this moment. He doesn’t have the most stellar memory either unless a certain situation demands it, but he does remember what Sangyeon told him two years ago while they were walking to school. This was it.

“Don’t say that,” he finally finds his voice. “You’ll still come back anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Sangyeon laughs. “You seem at edge today. Did you and your boyfriend fight?”

“He’s not—”

I don’t love you anymore. I’m sorry. 

“Yeah,” he gives in. “And we fought. Sort of.” Yes, a year from now. It’s better to have that as an excuse rather than explaining to Sangyeon that he’s very much disoriented from accidental time travel. It scares him because as far as he knows, you shouldn’t fuck with time, and if he does something 2015 Haknyeon wouldn’t do, it could affect his future. No big deal, he just needs to channel his inner emo phase. Again.

“You two will get over it, just like always,” Sangyeon encourages. 

“Hope so,” Haknyeon replies absent-mindedly. 

When they reach school, he and Sangyeon go in their separate ways, the latter having to take care of student council duties. Haknyeon still remembers where his first year classroom was. He sees so many familiar faces walking down the same hall as he, and he could tell how much puberty has done for all of them in two years time. Some will get their braces off next year while others will have their hair treated; some couples will break it off in a few months, while others will get together in a week or so—not that he explicitly remembers, but somehow, making the most out of his situation like knowing these things was somewhat entertaining, because it makes him feel powerful—for the lack of better term. If he was brave enough, he could make money out of this; a fortune teller, of sorts, but the entrepreneurial feeling goes away as soon as it came when he sees Changmin and Chanhee perched on the classroom tables.

“Good morning,” Chanhee greets. “You changed your hairstyle?”

Haknyeon blinks. As if seeing Sangyeon wearing his high school uniform isn’t weird enough. Changmin still has his natural hair color (he died it to dark brown sometime around next year) while Chanhee still has his horrible bowl cut, which he will get rid of the same year Changmin changes his hair style. (It was out of will, but they had to do what they had to do.)

“Yeah,” he unconsciously touches his bangs. “Needed my forehead to breathe.”

“Well, it looks good. Keep it,” Changmin says. “Chanhee here needs a new hair cut, though." 

“Excuse me, this wasn’t my choice. It was my mom’s!” Chanhee aggressively reminds. “Anyway, did you all study for the Math quiz later?”

“Nope,” Changmin says easily. “Even if I study, I’d fail anyway, so what’s the point?”

“That’s exactly the point,” Chanhee argues. “You don’t even try. What about getting to the same college? Living in the same unit?" 

“It’s just a quiz.”

“You’re impossible.”

The real reason why they all went to a camping trip was to cheer Haknyeon up, since he was still in a huge slump back then. It was the start of the pseudo-merge of their group of friends, since during that time, the reveal of Juyeon and Chanhee’s relationship has been recent and both want their friends to bond with each other. It was a traditional camp: one with tents, a camp spot reservation at this beach that took them three hours to get to via a train, and a fuckton of citronella candles to keep the mosquitoes away (courtesy of Jaehyun who’s quite sensitive about his skin.) When night fell that day, Chanhee went missing after promising that he’d collect a few more branches to keep the campfire alive. Hours have passed and Juyeon’s already panicking, calling the head manager of the commercial camp site. Changmin cried his eyes out, promising that he’d take college and his studies seriously if he came back alive. Haknyeon records it and shows it to Chanhee, who was only late because he got lost and bumped into an old friend who thankfully knew his way around the place. 

Haknyeon stays quiet. One trippy thing about going back to the past is that every little thing could affect every other little thing, which can then become a big thing in the future. He keeps his mouth shut and he somewhat feels uneasy, because doing so made him feel like the situation before him was real. It was two years ago, but not today, not to his own calendar. 

The bell finally rings and the first lecture starts. So far, he’s doing pretty good in fitting in. He finds the right books, and looks for the right notebooks, jotting down topics he remembers memorizing a few years ago, but never really digested except when a situation demands it. It was pretty helpful because it allowed him to space out just a little bit, thinking further of the situation at hand. He tells himself that it’s just today. He’d only just have to survive today. Later tonight, he’d fall asleep and wake up to his mini refrigerator sitting pretty in his room and himself post-CSAT.

Lunch break came, which is only a period away from their Math quiz. Chanhee keeps Changmin his prisoner inside the classroom, reviewing him, while he took the liberty to walk out the classroom to buy some snacks and get some fresh air, but before he could, a classmate of his’ who stood by the door shouts his name, “Hey, Haknyeon! Park is looking for you!”

Changmin and Chanhee notice his sudden tension and stops in the middle of a petty argument to ask if he was okay. “Did you guys fight or something? Oh, my God, I’m going to beat his ass—” Changmin starts. 

“It’s fine,” Haknyeon says but his voice almost goes unheard. Clearing his throat, he repeats, “It’s fine. I’ll just, uhm, handle it.” 

This 2015 was real, and if this was as real as it was going to get, then it’s definitely going to involve him. 2015 meant him.  

“Hey, are you okay?” 

The last time he saw Park Jihoon was at a soccer game playing for another team in the year 2016. He left the school and everything behind before their 2nd year. But here Jihoon was, asking him with the gentlest voice possible if he was okay, taking a few steps closer—to which he backs away from. Jihoon seems to notice this. “Can we talk? Please?”

“Sure, that’s alright,” Haknyeon finds his voice somewhere between their staring contest. From the corner of his eye, he could see Changmin and Chanhee glaring at Jihoon. They never really liked him.

He finally remembers what happens today.

Jihoon will take him to the rooftop. Besides the bleachers, it’s another haven for Haknyeon, since it provides the same privacy the bleachers do despite being another open area. Bleachers for friends. Rooftop for Jihoon. People ate here, crammed their homework here, smoked here, and made out here. The rooftop holds so many stories and memories that Haknyeon couldn’t bear to step foot on it after they’ve broken up. 

They hid a blanket somewhere near the shed. Jihoon retrieves it, running back to him to sit right under the roof hatch’s check throat where the shade was. As Jihoon prepares the blanket and lunch, Haknyeon sneaks his phone to check their recent messages. 

jihoon, where are you?

you promised we’d have dinner today

should I just go?

please reply

jihoonie, are you still there?

I left already. 

did you have training? you could’ve just told me. I would’ve understood.

next time just tell me, alright? I waited for you for four hours but you didn’t show up.

where are you?

baby i’m so sorry fuck

it slipped my mind

i was out on an errand

shit i’m so sorry. i’ll make it up to you i promise

i’m so sorry

i’m sorry

this isn’t the first time it happened

you always ditch me

am I even important to you?

“You’re very important to me,” Jihoon starts, pursing his lips. “Listen, I’m really sorry. I know, I know an apology won’t just cut it. I don’t know what to do, so please, just tell me what can I do to make things better.”

It’s also the first time in a long time since he’s heard Jihoon’s voice. In present time, he’s changed his number, put his SNS on private, and blocked Jihoon in some platforms as if it could make the pain go away. He was starting to forget what Jihoon really looked like, but now that he sat so close, he feels like he’s back to square one again.

His instinct told him to break it off right then and there. He knew what Jihoon had done—he knew why he didn’t show up, although Jihoon won’t confess why right away, at least in this moment. Breaking it off would save him from all the years he spent hurting, but doing it right now just didn’t feel right.

“I don’t know,” Haknyeon finally answers.

Jihoon shifts closer. “I was looking for a job, but I know that it’s not an excuse. I still shouldn’t have forgotten. I’m so sorry.”

He took his mind with him from 2017, and he guesses that’s part of the reason why he didn’t cry even if he remembers doing so. He lets a tear slip, though, albeit the small spectacle, it left him feeling vulnerable more than ever and he hated the feeling. 

He’d rather have a Jihoon who never loved him in the first place than a Jihoon who he felt genuinely loved by. Jihoon then says a soft ‘I love you’ and Haknyeon—2015 Haknyeon—believes it, because he knew it was true, except this time, he also knows how and when that love would expire. 

He remembers crying like this in the past not knowing the reason why but now he does.

Haknyeon doesn’t ace the Math quiz later that day because he knew he wasn’t supposed to even if he found all the problems easy. Dismissal comes and Changmin is off to private tutoring (his parents picked him up from school even if his house was just a walking distance, all for the effort of making sure he attended what they paid for), while Chanhee excuses himself for reasons unknown, which later Haknyeon realizes that he may already be seeing Juyeon around this time and is hiding that fact from them. Meanwhile, Sangyeon always stays late because of student council meetings and cram school. He’s convinced that he’s going to walk home alone until he saw Jihoon waiting up for him by the school’s gate just like the usual.

Jihoon holds his hand as they walk, and for the most part, Haknyeon was just silent. He doesn’t let go, though. Something tells him to not to. 

“You want some tteokbokki and sundae?” Jihoon speaks up the moment they reach the intersection. They’re past the residential part of the village already. They’re about to walk through to the more commercialized area where markets, street food vendors, and Haknyeon’s aunt and uncle’s restaurant reside. “I could treat you as much as you like.”

They’ve resolved whatever they needed to resolve earlier this lunch. Jihoon had asked him permission if he can kiss him, and when Haknyeon agreed, he gave him a soft peck on the forehead, hugging him until he stopped crying. Even so, Haknyeon’s heart still felt heavy for reasons that really can’t be helped. 

“Why?”

“Because food cheers you up?” Jihoon says simply, smiling. “Hey.” 

“What?” Haknyeon responds tiredly. He opts to play along and ride with the flow of their conversation. “You don’t have to. It’s fine.”

“Are you sure?" 

“Your mom’s lunch was enough,” Haknyeon assures. 

“But that was during lunch. It’s dinner now.”

“My aunt and uncle run a restaurant. I’ll eat dinner just fine.”

They reach Haknyeon’s home, but before Haknyeon could enter his humble abode and bid Jihoon good bye, the latter pulls his sleeve and then envelopes him into a gentle hug. Haknyeon doesn’t exactly miss it, per se. Miss isn’t exactly the right word, because then it connotes that he yearned to feel it again. Maybe thinking about how it would feel like again is more accurate. Reminiscing but not longing. Nostalgic but not rekindling. Jihoon’s words are as sweet as ever.

“I…this relationship or whatever we have…it means the world to me,” Jihoon starts. “You mean the world to me. You make me the happiest guy alive, and the fact that you chose to be with me makes me feel like I saved a country in my past life or something.”

When it comes to Jihoon, Haknyeon remembers every little word he says, but it’s been so long; a solid two years have gone by, and it is only now that he realized how much he progressed in moving on, because he might remember this night happening, but he doesn’t have any idea if what Jihoon was saying were his exact words from before. Although, the gist is still there and it makes his heart aches.

Jihoon continues, “I don’t know, it’s just…you know I’m shit with words, but I promise I’ll make it up to you with actions instead. I love you. I love holding your hand, I love hugging you, I love kissing you. Like a lot. I love your face, your smile, your eyes, and oh my God, I really sound cheesy, but what the heck. It’s the truth. I love you, Joo Haknyeon.”

Breaking up with Jihoon means he’d have a chance to move on earlier and he would never have to go through Jihoon leaving him in that restaurant, but then if that were to happen, then Changmin and Chanhee would’ve never came up with the camping trip that was meant to pull him out of his slump during summer—among other things. Changmin would never have realized how important college was to both him and Chanhee, and then eventually to himself. Running away from an inevitable thing like heartbreak is hard. If he breaks up with Jihoon right now, then maybe the next day he’d wake up in 2017 unknowing and still naive. 

2015 Haknyeon was utterly and hopelessly in love with Park Jihoon. 

Haknyeon has told Jihoon how much he loved him a million times, but he can’t seem to say it anymore—it’s not the absolute truth with the heart he brought with him from 2017.

He reminds himself that it’s 2015 and there’s an off chance that it’s still probably some sick dream, a stimulation of sorts, a way of his subconscious testing him whether he’d really moved on or not, so he indulges and hopes that the feeling wouldn’t follow him for when he wakes up where he’s supposed to.

He remembers the passcode to his phone now. It was Jihoon’s birthday.

Haknyeon slept duly that night with the assurance that he’d be back in 2017. The jitters went nowhere near him, which he was thankful for, exhaustion overcoming him rather than the desire of wanting to go back home—or rather, time. He feels the brightness of the sunlight sifting through his window beneath his eyelids. Half-awake, he hears his aunt pace around his room, cleaning whatever he had left on the floor, drawing the curtains open to wake him up. 

“Get up! You have school today!” 

He felt hopeful. 

“I prepared you some extra clothes since your Sangyeon hyung told me that you’d be preparing for your Sports Festival next week.”

“What Sports Festival?” Haknyeon mumbles against his pillow as he tries to get more sleep. “My CSAT just ended, auntie.”

“Are you still dreaming? You’ve been talking about taking the CSAT since yesterday. Get up!”

Oh, no.

“Holy shit." 

“Language!” 

His aunt says something about his bad sleeping habits until she disappeared into the staircase. Haknyeon shots up from his bed, adjusting his vision into the bright light. His mini refrigerator was still missing, and everything pretty much stayed the same since yesterday. He smells a more ripe adolescent version of himself with all of his priorities unhinged, and with that, panic grows unto him yet again, but this time it’s more alarming, because he’s punched into a consciousness that this timeline was real—as real as he was in 2017. 

He unhooks his calendar from its place, slamming it onto his desk, scrambling for his post-its.

September 23, 2015

• Jihoon and I made up. He told me he really loved me.

He places another set of post-its on the corner of his calendar for a general reminder. 

• Chanhee and Changmin are my best friends.
• Pretend to not know that Chanhee and Juyeon are already dating.
• I’m not yet friends with Jaehyun, Hyungseo, Hyunjoon, Younghoon, Youngjae and Sunwoo. I’m only friendly with Juyeon.
• I’m still in love with Jihoon.

He pauses after writing the last bullet. 

Revisiting the past is one thing, but living in it is another.

“Great,” Haknyeon mumbles. He’s in the ‘another.’ As if reliving a day of his relationship with Jihoon wasn’t traumatizing enough, he has to go through the whole thing for the second time around. From the corner of his eye, he sees his phone light up. He stretches to reach for it, reading the notification banner. Speaking of.

 From: Babe ♡

hey you want to walk to school together this morning? :-)

He unlocks the phone with his fingerprint, and then texts back, sorry I’m walking with sangyeon hyung today. His hand overs the send button, contemplating whether or not if the text sounded cold or just right. 

Jihoon texts back immediately. 

okay, then. love u, babe. see u later

Haknyeon shuts his phone, groaning. He’d lower down the stakes and wish for time to pause instead. He doesn’t need to move backward nor forward, just staying where he was seemed more fulfilling even if he knew it wasn’t right; it’s because he was immensely scared of what to face for the next few days. One mishap and it could potentially change his future or the present he supposedly lives in. It’s funny because when he lived in the present, he didn’t really care much for the small details that will impact his future, but now it’s all he’s been thinking about.

“Another mock test?” Haknyeon asks. Sangyeon nods, eyes not leaving the index cards on his hands. It happens so frequently that Haknyeon doesn’t even bat an eyelash at the occurrence, though he has to pull Sangyeon’s sleeves here and there to prevent him from tripping or stepping on poo as they walk.

“I just can’t wait for this CSAT to be over,” Sangyeon says. 

“You’ll do just fine,” Haknyeon assures his hyung. “The reading comprehension is the trickiest part, but I think you’ll do just fine. Math shouldn’t be a headache for you as well.”

“Wow, thank you for the tips. You talk as if you’ve taken the test." 

Haknyeon gulps. “I did some research on the internet.” 

“Thank you,” Sangyeon pockets his index cards as they near the school’s gate. “Do well today, hm? I’ll stay later than usual. I still have cram school.”

“That’s fine. Good luck, hyung,” Haknyeon says, “I can go home by myself, you know. As always.”

“Jihoon’s not walking you home anymore?”

“He still does, but you know, I—yeah,” Haknyeon has gotten used to referring to Jihoon as a person of the past, and he admits that he’s still having a hard time adjusting to his presence. It’s not like Jihoon was a taboo topic—he and especially his friends just don’t like mentioning him anymore. So, for his name to be casually dropped in a conversation still catches him off guard. It’s different when he interacts with him face to face, though.

“Have you guys been fighting a lot?” Sangyeon asks. He asked the same question yesterday. “I  mean, you’re usually very happy and giddy about him. It kind of feels weird to see you down?”

“No, we’re fine,” Haknyeon excuses, “I’m just tired because of school. You don’t have to worry about me and Jihoon.”

“Well, alright. As long as you’re happy,” Sangyeon says earnestly. He then checks his watch. “I have to go now. Good luck on your Sports Fest practice later. You’re all packed, right?”

“Yeah, I am,” Haknyeon shows off his gym bag. “Bye, hyung.”

Haknyeon remembers winning 1st place for the relay. Sports fest was kind of a big deal, and his class is keen on winning every competition they are participating. They don’t, however, win everything, but they topped the charts with the average of their scores, resulting them to win gold within their batch. It’s good for class glory. The varsity members their section houses maintain their pride. Of course, they don’t know that yet; everyone’s doing their spartan training for their respective sports, which makes their short breaks well-deserved. It won’t last for long, though.

Haknyeon’s wearing his green tracksuit, which he’ll still keep in two years, since he hasn’t grown that much. He, of course, as planned, volunteered to be the last runner for the relay because chances are he could overcome whichever distance gap that may occur. He did just the same before, because no one else wanted to carry the responsibility, and alas, everything’s happening the way it’s supposed to happen.

“My hands are going to die,” Changmin says. They went with him in the clinic to have his hands wrapped with a bandage. He’s suffering from rope burns. “I hate tug of war." 

“I told you to just join the relay,” Chanhee says. 

Haknyeon shakes his head. “And put the team into jeopardy? No thanks.”

“Okay, now I’m being personally attacked. It’s not my fault I wasn’t born a running prodigy or a volleyball extraordinaire. I’m a dancer, okay! I dance!” Changmin rolls his eyes. “So, I’m sorry for not being a varsity!”

“Hey, now you’re just bragging in our stead,” Chanhee jokes. He’s been playing volleyball probably ever since he was born. If not the academic scholarships he’s being offered from different colleges, he still has some sports scholarships under his belt. “We can do this, guys.”

Changmin was about to retort, but then he suddenly stops talking and whispers, “Oh no,” Haknyeon and Chanhee follow his gaze only to be met with Younghoon walking towards them with two cans of cider drinks in his hands, followed by Jaehyun and Juyeon. Changmin takes both of Haknyeon and Chanhee’s wrists, leading them to walk briskly as if to escape. 

They don’t make it, though, because Younghoon blocks their way. Changmin’s eyes stays on the ground, still trying to walk past. “If you excuse us—”

“I saw you getting treated at the clinic, so I bought you this,” he shoves the drink onto Changmin’s chest, which the latter catches. “Take care. Don’t be stupid." 

Changmin scoffs. “I’m going to drink this not because you gave it. I’m going to drink it because I’m thirsty. Good bye.”

Changmin and Younghoon’s antics have always been amusing to Haknyeon, but it just became even more interesting to witness, now knowing that the two will eventually end up together. Changmin bumps Younghoon’s shoulder before leaving, and Haknyeon follows suit sans the physical contact. He briefly looks back to see if Chanhee followed, and he doesn’t miss the way how Chanhee walked slower just so Juyeon can squeeze his pinky finger with a subtle smile. He never really expected the both of them to get together, because as far as he knew, at least ever since they were in middle school, that Chanhee had a huge crush on Sangyeon and people like Juyeon weren’t really his type. Chanhee looks incredibly happy, though, and that’s what matters. Meanwhile, Jaehyun is dying of laughter at Younghoon’s dismay. 

Their team advisor calls for a meeting shortly after and then they are off to practice again. Chanhee’s helping with the production of the cheering materials since he’s a varsity and it’s his ‘privilege’ to excuse himself from strenuous activities, and Changmin, who already finished the cider drink Younghoon gave, begrudgingly returns to tug of war practice. 

Haknyeon finds himself a faucet to wash his face to wake. The faucet stands amidst a few benches and bushes. It’s quite hidden as it's just near the stock room, where vines crawled on its walls—as part of the school’s environmental agenda. He pats his face dry with a hand towel, turning off the faucet, stretching his arms thereafter. As he leaves, he sees Kim Sunwoo approaching the same faucet he had used. He stops himself from greeting him, remembering that they aren’t supposed to be friends yet, just as he wasn’t with Younghoon, Jaehyun, Juyeon, and the rest of their group. Kim Sunwoo was just Jihoon’s team mate in the soccer varsity team, and they won’t have a decent conversation lately until days before their CSAT.

But then Sunwoo casually greets him. “Hey, Haknyeon.”

Haknyeon whips his head, turning to look at Sunwoo’s figure, who sprinkled his face with water. They don’t know each other yet but why did Sunwoo greet him? He doesn’t recall interacting with him in any sort during this year, and if they had, he would’ve remembered. 

“Kim Sunwoo?”

Sunwoo turns off the faucet and faces him. “Yeah?”

“We aren’t friends,” Haknyeon straight-forwardly points out. He feels nervous. “Why did you greet me?”

Haknyeon purses his mouth shut, realizing how rude he sounded. So much for the small details of keeping things the same in the past; however, Sunwoo doesn’t look offended, because he pauses as if the question made sense. This could all be just an assumption, though, because Haknyeon was never really good at reading Sunwoo no matter the countless times he has observed him in brief lunches and weekend hangouts that didn’t really demand them to interact.

But what he knows is that Sunwoo is quick with wit and has a sharp tongue. So, for him to actually answer his question takes him aback.

“You… you’re Jihoon’s boyfriend, right?”

“And so?” Haknyeon prompts, taking a step forward. 

“He’s my teammate. He talks about you a lot.”

A short silence falls between them, and finally, Haknyeon says, “You and Jihoon aren’t really in the best terms, right?” 

“You know what, forget it. Forget I greeted you. Just pretend this never happened.”

Sunwoo decides to leave then, but Haknyeon grips his wrist just in time. “Two days ago… what day was it for you?”

Sunwoo stares at him for a long time, but he doesn’t wring himself out of Haknyeon’s grip, which started to loosen by the minute. The longer time passes, the more hope Haknyeon loses. Hope, in which, he wasn’t the only one in this sort of predicament. It seemed unlikely since he only based his judgement on a greeting—he was getting desperate. Sunwoo still doesn’t say anything. 

Haknyeon finally lets go. “I’m sorry. I’m just… really tired from stuff,” he tries to laugh it off. “I tend to say really weird things—”

Haknyeon stops in mid-ramble as Sunwoo takes him by the arm, dragging him all the way inside the storage room. Haknyeon was about to yelp but Sunwoo motions him to stay quiet as he locks the door close. There’s a faded window by the short end of the room, which provided the dark room some light, enough for Sunwoo to see the intuition that sparked on Haknyeon’s face.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“How did you find out?” Sunwoo asks. His voice was low and almost shivering. “Do you have something to do with this?”

“Find out what?” Haknyeon challenges. “Sunwoo, let go.”

“Sorry,” Sunwoo sighs. He hadn’t realized that he’d been gripping Haknyeon’s arm out of panic. “Sorry, I was just—I’m out of it today. We don’t even know each other.”

“We weren’t supposed to, but we do,” Haknyeon says. “So, answer my question, what day was it for you two days ago?" 

Sunwoo leans his back against the door. “Our CSAT. We’re seniors already.”

“Oh, my God.”

“It sounds crazy, I know—”

“I need to know you aren’t screwing with me,” Haknyeon wants to believe him; it’s not a confirmation that he exactly needs, but assurance. “I just… I just need to know that I’m really not alone.”

“Why would I screw with you? Do you think I would prank you with something like this?”

“I went to the restaurant you were doing part-time work for. You gave me something before I left. What was it?”

Sunwoo pauses. “Chips. No one really buys them, because it’s expensive, so I just gave you one for free.”

Haknyeon’s mouth gapes. Sunwoo takes a step forward. “You still don’t believe me? By the end of the year, Juyeon and Chanhee will announce that they’re dating. We’ll go to a camping trip, and weeks or months later, Younghoon and Changmin will end up together. I’d date someone two years younger than me, and when I broke up with her, she spilled orange juice at me, and you guys, or rather Younghoon, Hyunjoon and Youngjae, ridicule me for it. Still not convinced?” 

Haknyeon’s so relieved that he almost cries. Having someone who lives in the same timeline as him lifts a burden off his shoulders, so he goes out of his way to envelop Sunwoo in a one-sided hug which eventually turned mutual as the latter softly pats his back albeit his shock. 

“Haknyeon? Hey…”

“I want to go home,” Haknyeon whispers. “I want to go back to our time.”

“Me too,” Sunwoo carefully wraps his arms around Haknyeon’s waist. It was a moment of vulnerability—the incredible need of feeling the presence of someone who’s going through the same difficulties. It didn’t matter if they’ve only had two decent conversations, nor even directly looked at each other in the eye. What matters is that they knew each other. “Let’s figure this out.”

“What now?” 

He and Sunwoo are sat on the small, rusty table of the storage room. Haknyeon’s phone has been buzzing non-stop since a few minutes ago. His team mate is looking for him, but he lets it go after Haknyeon excuses that he caught a bad case of stomachache, but will be fine enough to continue training later. 

Sunwoo’s feet are propped atop the table in deep thought. His arms are crossed, eyebrows crunched—he looks like he has something to say, but from the way he sighs and runs his fingers through his hair in frustration, Haknyeon could tell that he’s having a hard time orchestrating a proper sentence. So, Haknyeon takes the liberty of answering his own question. 

“You know, I think it’s best if we don’t change anything that could impact our future. Like for example, we can’t be seen together because our friends might find it weird that we’re hanging out, since we aren’t supposed to know each other at all during this time.”

“Sure,” Sunwoo agrees. “But things have already changed since you and I are talking right here, right now.”

“It’s okay if it only just involves us. As long as it doesn’t affect someone, then we’re good. After all, we’re conscious of what we’re doing. We know what should and shouldn’t happen.”

“There’s a problem, though,” Sunwoo says, putting his feet down. “We know what would happen, but we don’t know when. We don’t know the dates. Things might catch us off guard.”

“That’s just a problem we have to deal with, then,” Haknyeon reasons. “I also think we should find the cause of all of this. Do you think it has something to do with sleeping? You know, the way we sleep? I’ve been thinking. Maybe this is something similar to a lucid dream?” 

“If this was a lucid dream, we would be dead by now,” Sunwoo says. From outside, they can hear the distinct chatter of students going about. It’s another round of recess. “Lucid dreams don’t last for days, so no, I don’t think it’s with how we sleep. Sleep can’t solve this, because if it could, then we would’ve been back in 2017 right now.” 

“Then what?” 

“I honestly don’t know,” Sunwoo admits. “I don’t even know how we got here. I don’t even know if sticking together is a bright idea.”

“We should,” Haknyeon answers immediately, and then slowly, “We should… we should stick together by all means. In private. If we want to figure this out, then we should stick together. Two brains work better than one.”

“Okay,” Sunwoo says after a short moment of pause. He checks his watch. “We should get going now. We still have training.” 

They exchange numbers before leaving the stuffy storage room under code names, just in case someone rummages through their phones and see their messages in accident. Haknyeon names Sunwoo as, well, sun with a matching emoji. He doesn’t really have the heart to be creative at the moment—you know, time-traveling and all.

“What should I name you, then? Moon?” Sunwoo says, voice dripping with sarcasm. 

“Star would do just fine,” Haknyeon says. His phone rings once again after punching in Sunwoo’s number. This time, however, it wasn’t his team mate. He gestures Sunwoo to stay silent even if there was no need to since both of them are about to leave anyway.

“Hey,” Jihoon greets over the phone. “I bumped into your team mate and he’s losing his mind looking for you. He asked me to contact you. Is everything okay, babe?” 

“I’m fine. I just had a minor stomach ache. I went out to get some fresh air to rest,” Haknyeon says—lies—it isn’t a pleasant feeling. Sunwoo opens the rusty door and urges him to step out first. They stand a few feet away from each other. “Must be something I ate.”

“Alright. Are you okay now? Do you still need medicine? I can get some for you.” 

“No, it’s okay. I’ll be fine. I’ll message you if I feel sick again, okay? Bye bye.” 

He shuts his phone, stuffing his phone in his pocket. Sunwoo looks at him weird, to which activates his defense mechanism—assuming and raising his voice. “What’s the problem?”

“I’m here for you. I mean, if you want to talk to someone about it or whatever,” Sunwoo’s voice is gentle. People know of his heartbreak. Though he has never personally disclosed what exactly happened to him and Jihoon to Sunwoo, he’s sure that that the latter had an idea of what he went through. After all, the first time they all bonded together was that camping trip. The very same one his friends hoped to cheer him up from his and Jihoon’s break up. “I can’t imagine what you’re feeling, but I know that it must suck to date that douche. Again. Of sorts.” 

“Thank you. It’s nothing I can’t handle,” Haknyeon flashes a smile. He doesn’t really like bothering people with his problems, even if most just exude simple comfort. Much like how he doesn’t like crying in front of people; he’s uncomfortable with the attention, so he just keeps his feelings to himself, and worries about his problems on his own until it dies over. All these years, he has conditioned himself to never show a sign of weakness ever again to someone, because then he’d be giving a part of himself. He doesn’t want to feel something like that ever again. 

He and Sunwoo part ways but both promise to text each from time to time should they have a new idea, albeit how obnoxious it could be, to solve the situation they’re in. He goes back to practice, almost an hour late, greeted with his team mate’s nagging, which he soon shuts up because he still ran faster than everyone in the team.  

The day ends not long after. Tomorrow is the big day, and Haknyeon wills himself to do his very best to win gold. It was the athletes who went home first, while the committees stayed later than usual, trying to finish sewing the support headbands and other decorations. Jihoon waits for him by the school gate as usual, leaning against the post, playing with his phone to kill time. His bangs are side-swept, cheeks tinted red, his heavy gym bag strapped across his shoulder. Contrary to popular belief, they don’t always walk home together, since Jihoon sometimes have soccer practice to attend to. The varsity team trains until eight in the evening, but still, they try to spend time together as much as they can. If Jihoon’s trainings were on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays, then they’d relish Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays by each other’s side.

It’s a Thursday now, though.

“You don’t have training?”

“It just ended early, which is weird, because we have a big game a month from now,” Jihoon says. “Plus, Sports Fest is tomorrow already. Cap’t and Vice Cap’t were absent today, and Coach felt sick. We had a sweat session and a few drills, though, but other than that we didn’t do anything. I’m still in my training clothes.”

“Gross,” Haknyeon comments. “Your sweat has dried and you reek.”

It gives Jihoon the idea to spread his arms wide, attacking Haknyeon with a hug, purposely raising his armpits. Jihoon had always been the playful type, and that became one of the reasons why Haknyeon fell for him. “Do you like the smell now?”

“No!” 

There’s a difference between dwelling in the past, living in it, and accepting it. Haknyeon had spent years dwelling on something that can’t be brought back anymore, only to live in it again after he had convinced himself that he had moved on. Accepting it is a different story. Jihoon grips him tighter, laughing. Haknyeon would follow suit; the laughter almost erupts from his mouth, but he remembers that while everything is as vivid as it can be, a part of this everything that’s happening still doesn’t feel real, at least in the metaphysics sense. This was not his world anymore. This was not his timeline. In present time, in 2017, he doesn’t have this Jihoon anymore. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Jihoon notices his falter. 

Haknyeon nods, picking himself up from where he left off. He pushes Jihoon away and half-runs a few feet away from him. They were supposed to be stupidly in love. “Let’s go?”

Jihoon chuckles, entwining his fingers with his’. Before venturing, he kisses Haknyeon’s cheek tenderly. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Haknyeon spends the majority of the night tossing and turning, unable to find a comfortable position to sleep in. It rains unexpectedly, and the weather forecaster warns a sudden shower for tomorrow. He does remember the Sports Fest almost getting cancelled due to the rain, but it will stop somewhere before the sprint competition. It screws with the Sports Fest’s game schedule but they’ll make through with it somehow.

He has approximately texted (spammed) Sunwoo at least twenty times, rounding down and being humble with the number. It’s past midnight and it’s only then he reckons the latter might be asleep.

sorry for spamming you!!! you must be sleeping right now :( I’ll just message you tomorrow morning

 *later morning

From: sun ☀️

it’s alright i’m awake. what do you need

sorry for the late reply i was out. i just got home

it’s midnight already, though? what were you doing out so late?

looking for this for hire poster for my part-time job. restaurant isn’t furnished yet but i’ll be employed sometime around this month before the grand opening

wait. at mr. kim’s right?   

yeah at mr. kim’s

you told me when i went to owl sushi in 2017  

hmm

is it alright that when we talk, we talk in 2017 tense? no questions asked

i’m getting confused with this time shit  

alright. that’d be nice

cool.

also, i passed by the public library a while ago. i was thinking that maybe we should visit

you never know we might find something interesting there

as if there are books about Time Traveling for Dummies

as i’ve said

you never know

okay, I’m game. on sunday? you guys don’t have training then right

how did you know i don’t have training that day

oh wait stupid question

you’re dating that douche

yeah thanks for reminding me

sorry

it’s no problem!! hahaha

anyway I’m sleepy now. good night, sun

we’ll still call each other by code names right

ok. good luck for tomorrow’s sports fest

and yeah

good night, star

***

The sprint competition is postponed by an hour due to the mild rainfall. The committee members wiped the tracks dry with the help of the gloomy sun just starting to shine. The air feels weird but cold. It’s bearable considering Haknyeon has competed in worse conditions. He had to drop out from the sprinting team due to his knee injury. It was a careless accident at their restaurant, where he slipped on the stairs—he remembers the excruciating pain on his knee and the bracket he wore for a good year. His knee was recoverable, though, and it was back to its fully-functioning self sometime around the summer of 2015.  

As part of therapy, he had to exercise his knee again by running in consideration. He’d jog around the neighborhood every morning, until at the other end of it—back and forth and in at least five laps. In between those steps, he bumps into Park Jihoon, who liked to jog, too.

They were never classmates but for some reason, they knew each other. Jihoon was one of the star players in the school’s soccer varsity team ever since—one of, since he’s always head to head with Sunwoo, a known soccer prodigy. 

It wasn’t one of their soccer plays that caught Haknyeon’s eye. Sure, a play it was albeit the different kind: the one with emotions, dialogues, and extravagant set design. It was a tiresome extra-curricular activity, but they were required to go through with it for homeroom and Literature incentives, which hiked their grades pretty nicely. His role as the assistant stage manager saw its fruits.  

His job was pretty much to run around and get all the things the actor and the directing team needed. From photocopying thousands of copies of scripts, and then another for its revised version, to hoarding bottles of water for the cast to drink—one of which was Jihoon’s, who landed the main role. He paid no attention to him, really, except he has attractive features and has a plethora of both fangirls and fanboys kissing his feet. They’ve only ever uttered small thank you’s and you’re welcome’s during that time until the director (a now retired teacher from the high school unit) asked him if he could help Jihoon with the dramatic script reading for internalization purposes. 

Since it was middle school, getting paired in a romance storyline play is kind of a big deal. Everyone awaits for the blooming spark between the actor and the actress, just for the sake of having a hot topic during recess and lunch. The usual chatter of rumors which were bound to come into reality is tradition. Sangyeon, his hyung, landed a major role as well and ended up dating his partner. They didn’t last long, though, because the girl moved away, and Sangyeon explains that he never really had deep feelings for her; it was more of like he needed to date her under the influence of the so-called tradition.

He expected that someone like Jihoon would do the same. A star athlete at a very young age, has good-looks, is popular, and can pretty much excel in everything he involves himself with. However, Haknyeon isn’t the slightest bit intimidated since he doesn’t have much thoughts about him. 

They go through the first scenes with ease. Haknyeon also dramatically gets in character, so Jihoon could the same. He’s too immersed reading a long dialogue to notice that Jihoon has dropped his script to stare at him. He finishes the last phrase with a pause, waiting for Jihoon’s supposed response, but he’s met with silence, which in turn had him raising his head to return the stare. 

“You’re supposed to say—”

“I know.”

“Alright…” Haknyeon says awkwardly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Jihoon still hasn’t stopped with whatever he’s doing—this. The staring.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Haknyeon's laughter is dry but lighthearted. It was somewhat a mean of starting a friendly conversation. They’ve been practicing for about an hour now. They needed a break. “Do I have something on my face?”

“Beauty,” Jihoon whispers, slightly breathless. Haknyeon feels his face heat up.

“Uhm, what?”

Jihoon blinks rapidly. “Nothing, sorry. Uh… where were we?”

Haknyeon clears his throat. “I was thinking that we should take a short break. Do you want water?”

“Joo Haknyeon, right?”

Haknyeon nods slowly. “Yeah.”

“Sprint team? We… uh… we share the field. I’m in the soccer team.”

“I know,” Haknyeon actually smiles. Jihoon stuttering is quite cute. “I know you’re Park Jihoon from the soccer team.”

“That’s great,” Jihoon smiles dashingly at him, and then leans closer, elbows still resting on the table that separated them. “So, do you want to get lunch together some time?”

“I’m busy, sorry,” Haknyeon says. He’s heard a lot about Jihoon and one of them is that he is an absolute fuck boy. Sure, he was nice, but getting involved with him in that kind of sense is another story. At least, that’s what the rumors said. Well, it can’t exactly be a rumor since many girls and boys who have dated Jihoon pretty much say all the same thing about him, but Haknyeon tries his best to not let it get in the way of his judgement of him. He’s not the type of person to treat other people from the things he hear; rather, he’d treat people based on what they directly show him. Though, his gut feeling yelled to stay away from Jihoon as much as possible. Maybe keep him as a valuable acquaintance and nothing else. 

“Busy the whole school year?”

“Sprint team. We have many competitions throughout the year.”

“I watch some of your competitions,” Jihoon plays with the tips of the dog-eared script, chuckling to himself. “You’re pretty good.”

“Thanks?”

Jihoon hums. “You won gold in your competition last month. It wasn’t a close fight since you were half a lap ahead than everyone,” he jokes, “Maybe you should join the soccer team, too, since you run so fast.”

“Are you flattering me? Because it’s working. I’m flattered.” Haknyeon jokes back.  

“I’m not really flattering you,” Jihoon grins. “The right word is more of like… I’m flirting with you.”

“You’re very straightforward.” 

They don’t exactly hit it off right then and there, but they did talk a couple of times after. Days proceeding the play, Jihoon suddenly became visible to him. Every time a period ends, he would be casually standing outside his classroom even if his’ was at the other end of the corridor. All the while he would try and strike up a conversation with Haknyeon, following him around much to Chanhee and Changmin’s annoyance, asking him if he’s interested in going out for the weekend, to which Haknyeon just politely rejects. After the knee accident happened, they never got the chance to talk again, because Haknyeon had to be temporarily pulled out from school for his knee to be able to recover faster; however, he was able to make up for all the school works and tests he missed and made it just in time for middle school graduation. He wore knee braces and crutches and had to be assisted most of the time with the help of both Chanhee and Changmin. He was unable to go to places by himself because his knee felt somewhat fragile after undergoing surgery, so he felt tired by just simply standing.

Jihoon tries to approach him—multiple times actually, and unsurprisingly, he just gives up. He didn’t exactly felt affected by it, since he wasn’t interested in him, but he admits, the absence of persistent physical presence felt weird. Jihoon even left him sweet letters on his locker, all handwritten: some were poems and some were his own. He never had the courage to confront him about it, not until summer, where Haknyeon was prescribed to start jogging to exercise his knee, which was just starting to heal.  

He couldn’t attend the summer training for the sprint team, though. It’s not like the doctors prohibited him from competing completely, but they had suggested him to only join one or two competitions, because he shouldn’t be exerting much energy on his knees. The coach offers him an honorary membership for when he enters his first year in high school, but to his pride, he refused, because he couldn’t find the point of joining the team anymore when something was holding him back. He didn’t like the feeling of having strings attached.

So, he jogged around the neighborhood, and around downtown to make it up to himself. He immersed himself to the music, jogging to the fast beat, sweating under his sleeveless hood at five in the morning, under the early summer heat, where there aren’t much people that cared to go about their day yet. The downtown was big for their town, but it’s relatively smaller compared to the downtowns of the big cities—but it’s growing steadily. More buildings are built, more shops have started to open, and more people move to make a name for themselves. It takes ten minutes to get to downtown by riding a bus, so the place isn’t as far from his village—he doesn’t pant in exhaustion until his third lap. 

There’s a new cafe in town and Chanhee and Changmin have been pestering him to join them to buy a drink from there just for the sake of posting it on social media. Still upset from not being able to do competitive sprinting again, he ‘accidentally’ shuts himself out from his friends. ‘Accidentally’ may not be the right word, but maybe ‘unconsciously.’ It has become a natural instinct for him to do so.

Right now, Haknyeon is thirsty and he has a few bills in his pocket to spare for the smallest size of an iced coffee. The board menu sitting outside the cafe is written prettily by chalk, and from outside he could see there isn’t a line waiting by the cashier. He decides to stopover before going on another lap. He appreciates the moderate air conditioning to beat off the heat, and the iced coffee tastes just as well as the other iced coffees he had tasted from other expensive cafes. He sat by the long table in the middle, one where there are many seats situated so people of different friend groups or who came alone like him can still sit among themselves especially during the rush hour. There’s an elderly sitting on the other end of the table, reading the morning newspaper, while a middle aged woman sat on one of the cushion seats, finishing off whatever she was typing on her laptop. Other than the staff, they were the only people in vicinity. Haknyeon thinks of holding off his remaining laps to relax and take a break the whole day.

He was scrolling through his phone when the bell above the glass door rings. He pays no mind to it, but the customer who just entered demands him to.

“Haknyeon?”

Haknyeon pauses his music quickly and takes off his earphones. “Jihoon?”

He’s wearing a simple thin shirt, cargo pants and slippers. He looked like he needed to beat the summer heat, too. “Long time no see?" 

Jihoon has that smile again. Since Haknyeon had ultimately decided that he won’t be doing anything after this, he agrees to Jihoon’s request of sitting beside him after he had ordered and received his drink. It’s been so long since they’ve last talked and it’s not like he really looked forward in doing so, but it felt nice having him around again. He thinks that if Jihoon still pursued him in the earlier stages of his recovery, he would’ve shunned him out in a heartbeat. This is what people call a blessing in disguise.

“Are you… doing okay?” Jihoon asks slowly. He hasn’t touched his drink yet.

Haknyeon nods. “My knee is all good. I just need to exercise it so it can be better.”

“I’m glad that you’re doing fine, and I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For not being able to approach you when you came back to school. I don’t know. You seemed very down and I could tell that I was annoying you, so I just backed away? Like I’m not excusing myself for my shittiness, but you know, I… I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize for anything,” Haknyeon, surprisingly, laughs and it catches Jihoon off guard. “It’s cute; trying to explain yourself. I appreciate it.”

Jihoon snickers. “Heh, you called me cute." 

“Don’t push it.”

“Sorry.”

Jihoon finally realizes that he had bought a drink, so he takes a small unsolicited sip before saying, “I’m finally getting my weekend with you.”

Haknyeon smiles at that. He hasn’t stretched his lips that way for quite some time. “Thank you. I mean… for the letters and poems you left in my locker. I read them all.”

Jihoon pauses and then laughs nervously. “Really? It was quite embarrassing. I mean, I’m not really the cheesy type of person to write something like those—”

“I loved it,” Haknyeon cuts him off before Jihoon could ramble again. “I loved it and I, uhm, it made me happy. I’m going through a huge slump right now, so what you did meant a lot. It gave me strength.”

“I’m glad,” Jihoon says and then quickly changes the topic. Haknyeon reckons that he was just embarassed—the letters were cheesy, but it’s the kind that he appreciated and not cringed about. “So, jogging. Exercising, I mean. Wait, shit—it’s the same thing." 

Haknyeon laughs. “Yes, I’m jogging. I want to be in perfect condition at the start of high school, so here I am. Every morning.”

“Do you plan on returning to the sprint team?”

“No, I’m pretty much done with it,” Haknyeon answers too easily for a hard decision. “I’m thinking about it, but you know, I’m most likely not going to return.” 

“Don’t pressure yourself too much if you don’t really want to. There’s always time to think things through, you know?” Jihoon takes a sip of his drink, clucking his tongue to get more of the taste. It’s detox lemon water that tastes a tad too sour. “I’m here to support you.” 

“Thanks and how about you? You’re not so bad at acting.” 

“That?” Jihoon says incredulously. “That’s just an extracurricular thing. I’m more focused with soccer.” 

“Yeah, right,” Haknyeon says. “Don’t you have summer training? All competing teams do.”

“Only on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays,” Jihoon then takes the opportunity, “Why? Are you interested in my schedule?”

“No, I’m not,” Haknyeon furrows his brows. “Are you flirting with me again?" 

Jihoon nods and moves closer, so their faces are only a few inches away. “Attempting to.”

“You’re doing a horrible job.”

“Why, are you not swayed?”

“Not in the slightest bit.”

“You’re blushing, though.” 

Haknyeon leans backward and sighs. He doesn’t say anything else because what Jihoon said was true. His face was heating up and Jihoon looks extremely smug about it. He decides to be a step ahead, then. “Phone,” he puts his palm out, curling his fingers to gesture. 

Jihoon looks at him weirdly, but does what he was asked to anyway. Haknyeon punches his own phone number and presses call. “There,” he puts the phone down and saves Jihoon’s number to his data. “That’s my number. We can jog together on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays if you’re available. I start at 5 in the morning.”

Jihoon blinks, clearly taken aback. “Sure, of course. I’m available. Wow…” he then jokes, “I hope you aren’t flirting with me.”

“Well, I am,” Haknyeon stands up from his seat, getting ready to leave. “Am I doing a good job?” 

Jihoon hums, teasing, “You have to try harder.”

“Depends if you call me tonight.”

Haknyeon finds himself looking forward to the Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays of summer. He and Jihoon would always meet up at the cafe, which they consider as their first lap, and then they take a mutual route together to complete the remaining rounds. They’ve gotten so close that sometimes even on a TTHS right after Jihoon’s soccer training and Haknyeon’s jog, Jihoon would visit the restaurant to help with getting orders and serving food to the customers. Since he would always arrive at dinner time, where the restaurant is usually alive, he’s become a really big help in meditating the workload. 

Sangyeon wasn’t too happy about it, though.

“I’ve heard stuff about him,” Sangyeon whispers. “Are you sure?”

Haknyeon finishes refilling a bowl of lettuce in one hand while the other reaches for an extra set of chopsticks, as per request from the nice construction workers who frequent their place a lot. Haknyeon sighs and tells Sangyeon, “I’m not sure, but he’s been really good to me so far.”

They’ve had this talk a couple of times. Sangyeon’s usually the friendly type. He got along with his friends—got along so much that one of his best friends developed feelings for him—but there was something about Jihoon that didn’t please him. “Of course I support you, but put yourself in my place. If you were to hear things like that about the person your cousin is romantically involved with, then you’d feel very overprotective, right? And mind you those things are actually proven.”

Haknyeon was young and naive, enamored by the feeling of loving and being loved, so he replies in such a way any boy his age would when it comes to such things: “But I like him and he makes me happy.”

It was Sangyeon’s turn to sigh. “Whatever, bud, but if he does something funny, I’m gonna come for him, alright?”

“Haknyeon-ah! The lettuce please!” 

“Coming right up!” Haknyeon shouts back. He doesn’t respond to Sangyeon’s last statement and instead runs to the construction workers to serve their follow-ups. Behind him stands Jihoon by the cashier counter checking out a bill by credit card. His stature is polite and gentle, and Haknyeon’s aunt seems incredibly happy for the extra hand—she seems more at ease and laid back despite the dinner time rush.

“Your boyfriend is such a big help,” his aunt gushes. “It’s a breath of fresh air, since the people you’d always bring here will just eat up whatever. Don’t get me wrong, I’m very happy about that, but it’s the first time I’m encountering someone who’s willing to help around.”

“He’s not my boyfriend, auntie,” Haknyeon explains, hugging the empty tray in his hand. “He’s just a friend.”

“Well, you better make him your boyfriend soon,” his aunt says. “He’s very useful.”

He doesn’t have much time to think about his aunt and Sangyeon’s contrasting opinions, because a group of four boys enter the restaurant strutting and with loud voices. Haknyeon groans to himself, walking towards the cashier counter where they stacked the menu. Jihoon then asks, “Do they come here often?”

Haknyeon gathers four menus. “Yeah, they’re regulars.”

“Want me to take their order?”

“No, it’s fine,” Haknyeon assures, reciprocating Jihoon’s touch on his hand. “I’m used to them.”

“Alright,”

Haknyeon approaches Younghoon, Jaehyun, Juyeon, and Sunwoo’s table begrudgingly. He wishes Changmin and Chanhee were here to keep them in place when they get too chaotic. Haknyeon hands them the menu and whips out his notepad and pen. “Same order?”

The menu part was only for common courtesy. The four of them needn’t to look at it anymore since they frequent the place so much. They’ve probably memorized the menu and the food’s prices if asked. Juyeon, the nicer one out of the bunch, reads the menu still.

“Same order please, but this time five plates of beef instead of four,” Jaehyun says. 

“And a pitcher of iced tea. We’re kind of getting sick of just drinking lemonade,” Juyeon adds. “Thanks, Haknyeon.” 

“Where’s Changmin?” comes Younghoon’s abrupt question. This isn’t the first time he has asked such, since Haknyeon gathers that he only comes around to catch a glimpse (or annoy) his best friend, who also frequents the place. Now, he isn’t so sure with Younghoon’s unrelenting mission to piss Changmin off almost every time they’d meet. Haknyeon and Chanhee took quite a disliking to the group in return as well. 

“Don’t know,” Haknyeon shrugs. “Anything else?” he briefly looks at Sunwoo who sat quietly in the corner, pointedly staring at something—someone. Haknyeon follows his gaze and sees Jihoon taking orders for another set of newcomers. 

“What the—what is Park Jihoon doing here?” Jaehyun asks, voice a bit loud. “He’s working here?”

“He’s just helping around,” Haknyeon says. 

“What an asshat,” Younghoon mumbles. Juyeon who didn’t talk much as well just stared at Sunwoo, who wasn’t looking at anywhere anymore. 

“I can hear you,” Jihoon then appears after finishing confirming the orders of the group of office workers who just came by. 

“It was meant for you to hear,” Younghoon raises his voice. “What the hell?”

“I’m just helping out Haknyeon here,” Jihoon explains himself. All of them have a look of distain on their face, except for Sunwoo who acted apathetically. “I take it I won’t stick around you guys anymore, since I’m probably already ruining your night. And hello there, Sunwoo." 

Jaehyun was about to rise from his seat to retort, but Sunwoo stops him. Haknyeon could only try to figure out what’s the blood bad between their group and Jihoon, who had already walked away as if nothing happened.  

“Are you guys together?” Younghoon asks carefully. “Okay, I know we’re assholes in your eyes, but he’s like… the devil.”

“Whether we’re together or not is none of your business,” Haknyeon says, leaving the four. “Your order will come in 10 minutes.” 

Months pass after that night, and before he knew it, school had already started and he’s on his first year of high school. He and Jihoon could only grow closer as days would pass by. They’ve jogged a thousand laps, kissed a hundred times, and confessed how much they liked each other more than the both can count. Changmin and Chanhee eventually find out about their relationship, or whatever they were, and just like Sangyeon, they didn’t take it very well at first but chose to come into terms with it.

Maybe he’s changed, Haknyeon would reason over and over. At one point or another, he does address those bad rumors and anecdotes to Jihoon, who maturely didn’t deny any of it but promised the same words that came out of Haknyeon’s mouth; that he’ll change for the better.

***

The sprinting competition is only a few minutes away. Haknyeon sits by the bench, tying his sprinting shoes that despite how many times he’d worn it, it still stood strong albeit how dirty it became. His teammates have already left to warm up on the tracks, but Haknyeon chooses to reserve his energy, just as what he’d always do pre-game. 

“Hey,” comes a voice, and later he recognizes it was Sunwoo’s. He looks up, slinging his gym bag over his shoulder.  

“Hey,” Haknyeon says back. They’re the only ones in the room, but Sunwoo walks past him to pick up a few balls from the basket near the lockers.

“Good luck,” Sunwoo says without looking at him, filling in the empty ball bag he carried. 

“Thanks,” Haknyeon bites his lower lip, hesitating to leave just yet. “And Sunwoo?”

Sunwoo faces him. “Yeah?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

Sunwoo zips up the ball bag. “Sure, go shoot.”

“Why do you and Jihoon hate each other?" 

Unlike Jihoon, when he asked the same question once, he doesn’t just give a simple answer like ‘no particular reason’ with a shrug. Sunwoo ponders thoughtfully, taking a few steps forward as if to make a point—he looks casual even if his feud with Jihoon should have been a sensitive topic. “We were best friends.”

“You two had a big fight?” 

“Something like that, yeah. I’m past it, though. I mean, in 2017.” 

“And right now? In 2015?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Sunwoo answers truthfully. “I had a lot of angst, you see.”

Haknyeon nods, unable to think of what to say next. He had never given much thought about Jihoon and whatever affairs he had with others.

“I have to act like it,” Sunwoo adds. “All the emo-ness, I mean. Younghoon, Jaehyun and Juyeon would sometimes look at me weird with my 2017 humor. It’s too cheerful.”

Haknyeon laughs. From what he can remember from the brief visits to their restaurant, Sunwoo had always been the quiet one in the group, next to Juyeon, that is. When he jokes, his words are full of wit, but those moments are rare. By the time their group of friends merged, Sunwoo was just the person he expected: funny, sometimes loud, but really thoughtful. 

“Your competition is starting soon. You’re going to finish first, right?”

“Yeah, I hope,” Haknyeon takes his leave, and Sunwoo stands still where he left him. He turns around and reminds, “This Sunday, alright? The library.”

“I’ll be there,” Sunwoo assures.  

The competition was a breeze for him. Their team finishes first, and while Haknyeon does feel happy, he felt a burden lifted off his shoulders. It’s a good thing he had quit the sprinting team or else he would keep track of the many he competitions he would win or lose. 

His team huddles for a group hug, and he hasn’t felt this kind of rush in years. Though, a small-scale competition, the victory felt pleasant and he wonders why he hasn’t professionally sprinted recently. He’s gotten offers from universities for his outstanding records, even though he’s been out of the varsity team—still, he didn’t know why he kept doubting all of these opportunities. Maybe he hasn’t competed in so long due to being holed in studying for the entrance exams. His insides burned when he ran, hair swept from the wind, lungs reaching for air—he missed all of it.

He feels a squeeze on his hand when the crowd had simmered down. He turns to face Jihoon who didn’t mind hugging him despite him reeking of sweat. Maybe this was another reason, too. When he and Jihoon broke up, he lost interest in things that reminded him too much of him. That included running. When he tried it again not long after Jihoon left him, he couldn’t get through a lap, because he would always remember the summer where they ran on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays together. Here, though, he learns that sprinting is so much more than a sport than Jihoon. It was what he loved doing. He loved it even before he loved Jihoon himself.

Chanhee and Changmin went home with him that day, while Jihoon stayed behind for soccer training. His aunt served Chanhee and Changmin a generous amount of meat and sauce just how they liked it, and they were off to their own homes before their curfew. It was somewhat ironic how clueless he is of the next day to come, even if he’d already gone through it. Sometimes, thinking of being able to remember every little detail in your life isn’t true, because if you did, wouldn’t you just suffer? Haknyeon doesn’t know which one was worse: that or experiencing your days twice.

Sunday comes faster than expected, and according to Sunwoo that as far as he knows, no one from their school would spend their last day of weekend on a library. Maybe on a Saturday, yes, but the library usually moves slow on Sundays, which is good enough.  

Sunwoo's already there when he arrived, waiting for him by the entrance. He waves as soon as he spots him, and since both of them just relatively woke up, they were quiet and dull for a few minutes. Along with the librarian and a few staff, they are the only people there. They sit by the secluded area where not much people come around.

“Ready to find a Chicken Soup For The Soul time traveling edition?” Sunwoo prompts. 

“Why did we think this was a good idea?” Haknyeon suddenly questions. “As if real time traveling books existed.”

“You never know,” Sunwoo repeats what he had texted him a few days ago. “It’s a pretty big library, and there are some weird books here. Time traveling being under weird.”

Sunwoo was close to right because when they searched the database, there were books about time sans the traveling. It could be useful. 

They’ve searched, gathered, skimmed and read a few books until before they know it, it’s noon and the library is considerably filled with the right Sunday statistics. It’s still quiet, of course, especially in the secluded area they sat where the silence is much louder. The old librarian stationed by the desk all day is nowhere to be found, probably taking a lunch break while the other staff rolled their carts to return the books on their rightful shelves. 

“Any luck?” Sunwoo asks, closing yet another book. 

“Nope, except I’m having an existential crisis. Turns out, time is only a social construct and we’re all living a lie. You?” 

“I picked up a few romance fiction about time traveling, so no,” Sunwoo says. Haknyeon groans, leaning back against the chair, stretching his legs to rest it on the chair opposite him, under the table. He picks up another book from his pile, skimming through the table of contents to navigate easier correlation to time travel. 

“How could a book about time traveling be published—I mean, the realistic kind? If someone went through the same thing as us, I wouldn’t write about it. It’d be too dangerous. What if people would think we’ve come up with a weird time machine that could possibly be life-threatening for all?”

“You watch too many movies,” Sunwoo points out, picking up another book as well. “But you’re right. I was thinking about that, too.” 

“Thank you,” Haknyeon laughs, but as soon as the noise left his mouth, he was shushed by one of the staff passing by.

“No, seriously, I thought about it,” Sunwoo says and Haknyeon stifles another laugh. “But would you invent a time machine?” 

“I’m sure it wasn’t a time machine that got us here, but I won’t. I mean, I don’t even want to be here in the first place. I don’t even want to change anything.”

“Even if it means you won’t experience the pain anymore?”

Haknyeon pauses for a while. “If I try to evade the pain that I’d feel right now, like, let’s say, I’ll break up with Jihoon right at this moment, since he’s going to be the one to cause me pain a few months from now. It doesn’t mean I’ll forget what he did. It won’t erase my memory of him leaving me.”

Sunwoo stays silent, nodding. Haknyeon then asks, “Why are you asking? Do you want to change something?”

“No, not really,” Sunwoo answers truthfully. “I just wanted to know. I’m glad both of us have the same sentiments.”

“Good, then we’re going to get through this,” Haknyeon says.

Both revert back to reading, and so far, no one has come around to their spot. They return the rest of the books they picked up minutes later, aisles near the science section filled with one or two people, sitting on the floor, skimming books. Haknyeon and Sunwoo stood somewhere in the far corner, the former’s finger going through each spine one the shelf, tilting his head, squinting his eye to read the titles properly.

“Haknyeon?” Sunwoo calls with a hushed tone. “If you don’t mind me asking, like really, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to… what happened between you and Jihoon?”

Haknyeon stands upright, picking up a few books he had deemed somewhat useful from the floor where he knelt. Talking about a certain topic and experiencing it are two different things. He feels detached from the happening so far, so it didn’t hurt as much when asked. It might be happening right at the moment, but he and Sunwoo talk in 2017 tense.

“Jihoon cheated on me and then left me.”

Sunwoo stands still while Haknyeon turns back to the shelf to look hunt for more books—as if it wasn’t a big deal. Both don’t say anything for a while. Sunwoo’s mouth is pressed into a thin line, feeling a rush of anger course through him. Haknyeon seems to notice his brooding, so he playfully punches his shoulder to put him out of trance.

“It’s in the past,” Haknyeon says. “I mean, it’s happening right now, but it’s in the past from where we really are. I just have to act like I’m stupidly in love with him as I was before,” he then pulls out a crumpled-looking book with pages browning. Its scent is more rustic than the others. The print can be barely read, since it’s so crumpled and one-third of the cover is torn. He could only make out what the title said, Leaping in Time: A Guide. “Huh, what gives. Turns out you’re right. There is a book about time traveling and it’s an anecdote."

Sunwoo takes the book from Haknyeon’s hand. It looks too fragile, too old, and what’s weird about it is it isn’t stamped with the usual number and section like every registered library book should. Haknyeon’s phone then starts vibrating in his pocket, probably indicating a call. Retreating, he looks at Sunwoo somewhat apologetic, and answers, “Hello, Jihoon?”

From the small distance between them, Sunwoo could still hear, ‘Sorry, I’m out today,’ ‘No, you don’t have to go here. I’ll be fine.’ ‘I’ll make it up to you.’ ‘Me, too.’ He figures the latter was a reply to an I love you. Haknyeon’s expression drooped and Sunwoo can’t exactly tell what it looked like, maybe something under the umbrella term that is sadness and yet—familiarity; an exasperated sigh that told a lot of experienced pain. Suddenly, it was as if it became more important than finding the book itself. Haknyeon felt so far away all of the sudden, but the distance is enough for him to tell that he was trying his best to put up a front. He remembers their conversation back in their camping trip. 

Sunwoo then flips the book open, landing on the dedication page. It reads:

To the person I love, 

I wish I had told you earlier. 

Leaping in Time: A Guide is not a critically-acclaimed book, for sure. Online, it didn’t have much reviews, but most were impressed with the writing style and its premise. Some debated whether or not it was a really anecdote or a simple fiction just like the other books. Its fame didn’t last for long—if it had one. It was published somewhere in the 80s, and the author had vanished from the face of the earth but was said to live a humble life in the province. His name was Kim Sook.

Many will come across this book only out of curiosity without ever experiencing what I did. You, who are in the right timeline, are lucky.

For those who are currently experiencing the same as I did, this is all you need to know: have you drank something peculiar before going into slumber? If you did and woke up to either the time you dreaded to go through again for the second time or to the time you wish you had the chance to alter, then you must let go of the ills of your heart. Find the person who gave you the drink. You are then free to stash the book away.  

For those who will choose to stay, my story starts with an isolated neighborhood, whose streets are cobbled, and bustled with life…

Sunwoo whispers, “I drank something from the bottle Mr. Kim gave. He visited Owl Sushi a few days before you did. It tasted like milk tea.” 

Haknyeon puts the book down. “Shit. Me too.” 

They knew they needed to find Mr. Kim as soon as possible. Haknyeon chuffs the ragged book onto his sling bag without a second thought. 

“What are you doing?” Sunwoo asks in panic. 

“Keeping it,” Haknyeon answers simply. “It’s not in the database, right? It’s just like picking up a coin on the street. There could still be something useful in this book. That drink was our common denominator, so I’m trusting whatever the author had wrote here with my life.” 

“It’s so weird. Just like that, we found our answer?”

“A solution to a problem. The first step,” Haknyeon corrects. “Let’s just go back home please.” 

If you did and woke up to either the time you dreaded to go through again for the second time or to the time you wish you had the chance to alter, then you must let go of the ills of your heart. 

Sunwoo wonders where he fell under.

***

Regret can take you to many places. Like for example, Sunwoo’s rummaging through newspaper job ads at the wee of midnight, and it really doesn’t help that the nearest convenience store to his house was the one where someone he knew worked.

After clearing the shelves, he places each newspaper of different editorial brands on the counter along with an energy drink he picked up along the way. 

“Have an arts and crafts project?” 

“Just punch it,” Sunwoo retorts, tone as menacing as Jihoon’s, who just rolled his eyes. It was just the two of them in the store, the only noise being the whirring of the refrigerators and the beep of the barcode scanner. Jihoon tells him the price, to which Sunwoo pays the exact amount of. 

Sunwoo remembers what Haknyeon had disclosed earlier, and he clenches and unclenches his fist to stop his urge of punching Jihoon square in the face. What makes him feel more frustrated is that he’s seen him do it, and he could only figure it out now. 

It’s nearing an hour past dawn, and the employee stationed on the shift after Jihoon’s enters the store looking rather bright on an unusual time. Jihoon shimmies of the uniform jacket, and freezes the moment the bell above the door rang. It wasn’t because of Sunwoo who had just made his exit, but because of the girl who had just entered. She’s the daughter of the soccer team’s coach.

Faintly, just before the door completely closes, Sunwoo could hear Jihoon say, ‘I told you to stop visiting.’ Jeongyoon’s eyes looked visibly swollen under the bright fluorescent lights, thereafter falling onto Jihoon’s chest, sobbing, holding him tightly. He hesitates to comfort her but he does anyway, in the end. Sunwoo doesn’t really know what to make out of his dead expression. He wonders if he only reciprocated her touch out of sympathy or maybe even love.

On his other hand is his phone lighting up from a text notification. 

from: star

I can’t sleep

tell me a story

type really long. many words can make you fall sleep

i’ll listen

Sunwoo walks away but his eyes stick to his phone. Haknyeon may not be physically present with him, but the sudden urge to protect him from the scene unfolding before him grows—as if a text can be enough to cover his ears from Jihoon and Jeongyoon’s fight. It was the kind of fight that lovers usually have, and that fact in itself proves a history that shouldn’t have been there.

What does he have that I don’t? Comes Jeongyoon’s question.  

from: star  

I love talking about running just as much as I love doing it. 

I started running when I was five, and started with the sport officially when I was seven.

I grew up here in the city, while the rest of my family stayed in Jeju, but they have been very supportive. They wanted me to get a sports scholarship, because then it’d be easier for me to enter a college. My aunt, uncle, and older cousin were the ones who took care of me. I think it was really stupid of me to stop running just because a person left me. I was upset that I had a sport I loved so much revolve around a person, even if I’ve been loving the sport before anything.

our sports are a different entity in itself, you know

I know, I just learned that now when I sprinted in the Sports Fest for the second time.

I’m sorry. 

why are you sorry?
don’t be. i told you i’d listen, didn’t i?

Jihoon and Jeongyoon can’t be heard nor seen anymore from the block he turned. The street is narrow slope upwards, and the dim orange street lights are either broken or flickering, with only one or two working perfectly. Cats run, rummaging for food in dirty, narrow alleyways, and some dogs are still awake to bark at his presence even if he passes by all of them on a daily basis. They just can’t be friends. 

Haknyeon replies a little late.

The mood just got really heavy, so yeah…  

i’ve always watched you run

fuck wait that sounds creepy

 That actually made me laugh okay go on

you ran faster than anyone in the sprinting team, soccer team, basketball team, volleyball team, or anyone really

just… go back to sprinting when you’re ready

because if you go back feeling forced, things might not turn out well

but with whatever choice you’ll make,

i’ll be there to support you.

You’re absolutely right.

I’m getting sleepy. Good night, Sun. Thank you. See you tomorrow.

***

“Hey, man.”

It’s the period after Mathematics, and while the lessons should already be easy for him, his head still suffers from a painful headache, vertigo biting him in the ass. His lack of sleep isn’t helping, too. Juyeon thrusts a pack of bread onto his hand, urging him to eat. The canteen’s pastry collection doesn’t remotely taste like anything but it’s a good eat if you just need something to chew and digest.

“You haven’t eaten anything,” Juyeon points out, halfway into eating his own piece. He would’ve defensively retorted albeit the comment being absolutely non-offensive, but he’s Kim Sunwoo and he does things just because. His stomach grumbles not a few seconds later and Juyeon laughs.

“Where’s Younghoon and Jaehyun?" 

“They went ahead. Meanwhile, I chose to stay with you, because you seem very out of it lately. What’s wrong?" 

“I’ve always been like this,” Sunwoo reasons, ripping the pack open. 

“Not really,” Juyeon says.

“Huh?”

“Sure, you’re usually quiet but something’s different. You’re very playful with us you know, but right now you seem brooding, I guess? Like you’re kind of sad.”

It may not seem like it but Juyeon’s extremely observant, and worries too much more often that he himself would like to admit. He’s a good listener, standing by the sidelines most of the time, laughing at unfunny jokes. Among their group, he’s the most rational and responsible one (Juyeon doesn’t let them copy his homework right away per se. He’d patiently teach them each item, and desperate to pass, they’d just nod and pretend to understand, and just copy the answers in the end.)

“You’ve always been bright and talkative,” Juyeon continues. “And we all know that.”

“I’m just stressed,” Sunwoo explains. “Stressed from studying, stressed from our big game, stressed from—” time-traveling. “Everything.”

“I’m here if you need to rant,” Juyeon offers and then jokes, “If you’re stressed about love problems maybe I could help as well.” 

“Thank you,” Sunwoo says earnestly. Juyeon pats his back and then turns towards the classroom door the moment it slid open. It revealed Chanhee who carried heap of folders, calling for the class president to collect. Almost no one hears him because of the loud white noise, but of course, Juyeon does. Their class president isn’t around, so he stood from his chair to take the folders in her stead. Sunwoo observes them quietly, lips parking on the bland sesame bread. Juyeon brushes Chanhee’s hand whilst receiving the folders, and the latter smiles so subtly that it looked like a bright light seeping through a small crack on a wall.

“Okay, I’ll tell her,” Juyeon says politely. 

“Thanks,” Chanhee nods awkwardly. 

Their moment is ruined when Changmin half enters the room with a yelp. “Fuck you. You always pull this shit. It’s not funny,” he curses, wiping something off his cheek. Younghoon’s holding an open water bottle and it looks like he’s spilled it on Changmin—or rather, spitted, from the looks of Changmin’s disgust. 

“You like me,” Younghoon declares. 

Jaehyun, who followed behind the commotion, sits beside Sunwoo and asks him if he has notes from their previous Literature lecture. Sunwoo looks for his notebook and hands it to Jaehyun, but he isn’t so sure if the real past him has done it. Jaehyun looks satisfied after flipping a few pages, though. He asks him a few questions and he tries his best to answer each and everyone of them, but his attention doesn’t stray away from where it was in the first place.  

“I absolutely do not! Not in a fucking million years. I have taste.” 

After their group had merged, Sunwoo learns that Changmin was the easiest person to get along with. It also helped that he and Younghoon grew to be in good terms—so good that they eventually figured out what they felt for each other. 

We argue over the pettiest things all the time, but when it comes to a real fight, I hate it so much, Changmin tells him one time. He’s very important to me, you know. 

Sunwoo then quickly excuses himself to the washroom before class could start. As lunch break almost comes to an end, the crowd in the hallway disperses. Chanhee pinches Changmin’s ear out of the classroom that isn’t even theirs, and calls for Haknyeon, who Sunwoo hadn’t realized stood a few classrooms away. From the clearing, Sunwoo sees that he isn’t alone. Haknyeon’s hands are entwined with Jihoon’s, and for a brief moment, Haknyeon catches his eye and almost smiles as a polite greeting, but Jihoon calls for his attention again. Sunwoo just turns away.

It dawns Sunwoo that this particular scene did happen before. He’d seen both Haknyeon and Jihoon being all over each other in the real 2015—it’s just somewhat weird to witness it all over again, knowing that Haknyeon also time travelled with him. 

No, it’s not really weird. It’s kind of sad for the most part. 

Both of them are living out a bittersweet nostalgia where they were just starting to figure out what they want to do with their lives. Though they are young, they already have such consciousness to pinpoint heartbreak where it’s due. Sunwoo doesn’t really know about Haknyeon, but he’s sure that this was it for him.

Sunwoo lives in a small, remote roof apartment near downtown. Although the village is quite crowded, it can get really quiet at night if not for the dogs and cats roaming about. He lives with his mom—his dad being away in the province; though, he would always call them up twice or thrice a week, never just once. He visits without a pattern as well—the good, unannounced kind. Usually, he’d visit on weekends, but there are some occasions that Sunwoo will come home to him cooking with his mom in the kitchen on a weekday. It was enough. 

Tonight, however, he’s just alone. His mom is helping out her friend at a salon nearby. She leaves him a note, reminding him to eat and to just have food delivered. The money is inside the drawer where the telephone is. You don’t have to worry about me, I’ll just eat dinner at your auntie’s! 

Sunwoo sighs, turning on his phone. 

i’ll just find something to heat up here. i don’t want to have food delivered  

sorry, I forgot to do some groceries last weekend, so it’s best for you to just have food delivered. I’ll do the groceries tomorrow after getting off work. eat well, my son!

no, i’ll do the groceries. please come home and rest here. i’ll pick u up at auntie’s salon now.

no, I promised your auntie I would help her tonight. 

and why do I need to explain to you? there you go again worrying. 

i can’t help it, mom.

I love you, Sunwoo. I’ll be home before you know it. Your mom has to go now~ 

Sunwoo finds the envelope of money as per his mom’s instructions. He briefly counts the bills with the intent of putting it back as if he hadn’t touched it in the first place. He rummages through the shelves, finding salt, sugar, pepper, and bottles of cooking oil, but no signs of edible canned goods that he can heat for himself for dinner. Luckily, his phone rings. 

star 

It’s not that late but it’s dark enough to call for a good night’s sleep. Sunwoo, curious, accepts Haknyeon’s call, placing his phone in between his ear and shoulder, kneeling to look for a bag of rice. He can survive with just a dish of refrigerated kimchi.

“Where are you?”

“Home,” Sunwoo simply answers. “Why do you ask?”

“I just finished making a delivery,” Haknyeon says. “And I coincidentally bought some wings for us to share. Text me your address."

“You guys have a delivery service? I never knew,” Sunwoo says, taking his phone with his hand. He gives up finding rice. “Are you riding a bike?”

“A bicycle, yeah. Sangyeon hyung has the real bike. I just did a last-minute delivery around the neighborhood, but I’ll take the bus just to get to you. It’s just something we’re trying out, but we won’t be able to get around it in the future.”

“Oh, alright,” Sunwoo says. “I’ll text you my address. I’ll pay you for the meal.”

“Don’t. Just think of it as if I’m sharing my packed lunch with you, okay? I’ll see you in a bit.” 

Haknyeon arrives a few minutes later. It’s a little chilly, so he’s wearing a long coat over a hoodie, rubbing his hands together when Sunwoo offered to carry the plastic he was carrying. 

“Wow, you guys have such a nice place,” Haknyeon comments as he climbed up to Sunwoo’s roof apartment. There’s a low table in the center where they can eat and drink.  

“You seemed like you had no problem navigating the place,” Sunwoo says. 

“Jihoon’s place is just around,” Haknyeon says but his voice is almost quiet. “Anyway, you always used to take out this order, so I figured that I should bring lots of servings. Are your parents around?”

“Oh, uhm,” Sunwoo blinks. Haknyeon takes off his shoes to sit beside him. “It’s just my mom and I usually, but she’s at work right now. Thank you. She’ll appreciate it. Though, she can’t know that it came from you—I’ll just tell her I had food delivered." 

Haknyeon hums. “Sure. I can’t wait to meet her next year." 

“She couldn’t shut up about you when she met you, you know,” Sunwoo says. “And we weren’t even that close then… just the fact that we’re in the same circle of friends. She was happy about that.”

Haknyeon met Sunwoo’s mom at one of Sunwoo’s soccer games. His mom was making her way to the bleachers and Haknyeon, along with Chanhee and Changmin, helped her climb to her seat as her legs weren’t really in the best condition that day. They accompanied her all throughout the game, and like any other mother, she was glad to see that her son has such supportive friends. Sunwoo’s mom hasn’t shut up about Haknyeon ever since. 

They first eat the wings in silence, but it’s just mostly Sunwoo who munched through his dinner, Haknyeon watching him intently. Sunwoo notices, of course, so he asks him, “Something wrong?”

“Do you remember how you found out about Mr. Kim’s restaurant?”

“Through a newspaper ad,” Sunwoo wipes his mouth with a tissue. “Most probably. I don’t remember much—just, I knew I didn’t find the job ad on the internet. I’ve been trying. I remember that I just saw the newspaper by coincidence, and thought, why don’t I do some part-time?”

“Just exactly where did you see the newspaper?” 

“Home,” Sunwoo answers. “I buy my mom newspapers every day—it’s not necessary that we just subscribe to one brand, so I buy whichever I could get my hands on. Of course, I don’t remember the date. That’s part of the reason why I’m having a hard time.”

“I’ll help you. I could hoard a few newspapers if you like. My uncle reads the tabloid kinds all the time. There are some job ads there, too, I think.”

“Thanks,” Sunwoo thinks back to the heap of newspapers at the far corner of his closet, all flipped to the job ad section but to no avail. “It means a lot.”

“We’re in this together, aren’t we?" 

“Yeah. Of course we are.”

It’s been two weeks since the night at the rooftop. Sunwoo and Haknyeon both have gotten better at trying to fit in, but if there’s anything that they’ve learned, it’s the less you talk, the less mistakes you make. They keep count of the things they say or do, and theorizes how much big of an impact it will be once they get back to 2017. They spend their breaks at the storage room, a decent enough place to devour food after tiring periods of lecture. There, they stack the newspapers they’ve hoarded, hid in between the folders of their bag prior to the reveal. In the very same room, it’s not just time travel they talk about. They talk about life, too, about each other, and petty gossips to entertain themselves for the meantime. 

“Seriously? You were the first one to know Juyeon and Chanhee were together?” Haknyeon asks, crumpling the wrapper of his finished burger. 

“Yeah, actually, I’ll just see them around this shed,” Sunwoo shrugs. He’s finished with his food. “They begged me to not tell anyone, and ever since then, whenever I was free, they’d sometimes invite me to hang out with them.”

“I don’t know, when they finally told us they were dating, I always wondered why a part of me wasn’t really surprised,” Haknyeon says. “I never saw them together together, but deep inside, I kind of expected that they were fit for each other.”  

Sunwoo became silent after that, using up the minutes to come up with a thoughtful insight, “Don’t you think we were supposed to time travel?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Like all of this was meant to happen. You wouldn’t have that feeling if you didn’t know Juyeon and Chanhee were dating right now. Same goes for me. Knowing that they’re together, I paid more attention to how they acted around each other whenever they’re in the same room. In the real 2015, I did the same, but not with the same sentiment—still, the endgame was: my expectations came true,” Sunwoo explains. “It’s not possible for us to remember everything we’ve done years ago, but maybe this time travel will help us fill in the gaps, you know? Like an explanation of why a situation happened or why we felt things in a certain way.” 

“I get you,” Haknyeon agrees. He looked like he wanted to say something more, but instead he purses his lips together and leans back on the chair. 

“You okay?” Sunwoo asks gently. 

Haknyeon doesn’t respond for a while, but then:

“Can we be friends when we get back to 2017?” 

Sunwoo laughs at the question—he didn’t know why, but it seemed like a defensive response for the way his heart jumped at the way Haknyeon seemed so serious and sincere about it. He’s not the one to completely strip himself of what he truly feels, but Haknyeon doesn’t question why he laughs. In fact, he looked like he understood why Sunwoo did it. Sunwoo holds himself back from saying that it’s what he wanted for the longest time, but he saves it for another occasion.  

“Of course,” Sunwoo says. “Why not?”

“Thank you. That makes me happy.”

***

The weekend comes by and Chanhee and Changmin decide to catch a film at the cinema—a horror movie to be exact, one where Haknyeon remembers sleeping through. He waits for both of his friends by the tables near the arcade, eating a corndog to keep his stomach from grumbling further. It’s quite loud from where he is but he doesn’t mind. He hasn’t been here for long. October comes with a mustard stain on his jeans, and Chanhee arriving with cinema discount vouchers. Changmin follows closely.

Chanhee doesn’t look all too enthusiastic about watching the film, but he does so anyway, since all three of them came to a unanimous agreement and he’s not the one to bag the killjoy title. “The things I do for you guys,” Chanhee says. “I’m gonna use the vouchers for this.” 

“You love us,” Haknyeon nudges his waist.

The film starts a few minutes later. Changmin has a habit of buying two bags of popcorns at once all for himself. One to eat during the pre-showing, and the other during the run of the film itself. Haknyeon and Chanhee share a large bag of popcorn instead. 

Changmin laughs at what’s supposed to be scary while Chanhee almost throws the whole popcorn away, watching the movie through the spaces between his fingers. Haknyeon does end up taking a nap, since he loves himself enough to have a good night’s sleep later. After the run ended, the three of them exit the cinema, Chanhee looking quite traumatized whilst Changmin makes fun of him. Haknyeon still feels groggy upon his wake but he immediately energizes up at the mention of taking a late dinner. 

A fancy dinner for them equates to heated instant ramyun, mac and cheese, triangular kimbap, sausage, and their favorite sparkling water drinks. They eat on the long counter of the convenience store near the glass wall. Chanhee unwraps the kimbap for the three of them while Changmin wipes Haknyeon’s cheese-stained mouth with a tissue. Suddenly, Haknyeon goes, “I miss this.”

‘I miss this’ in a sense that they wouldn’t be able to hang out like this anymore in their senior year. They’re ten times busier with studying for the CSAT and it’s not long before they’d go to college. However, the goal is to attend the same university, but that’s not really guaranteed. Still, Haknyeon can’t help but miss his best friends and their little moments like this. He purses his mouth the second he says so, but Chanhee and Changmin doesn’t question his sudden outburst. 

“We miss you, too,” Changmin says. “You hang out with your boyfriend all the time.”

They must’ve thought Haknyeon was referring to that, but he never really knew it was something to both of his friends until today. “I do?” 

“Yeah, you do,” Chanhee adds. His voice is gentle. “We’re not mad or anything, we promise. We just miss you.”

Haknyeon doesn’t exactly know what to think of the fact he spent most of his time with Jihoon; with him physically, with him on his mind, with him on his heart. Hate is too much of a strong word, but he knew it felt unpleasant. He felt stupid. “I’m sorry,” Haknyeon says. “I really am. You guys know how much I love you both.”

“And we love you, too. So much,” Chanhee says. “Right?”

“Yes, we would like, take a bullet for you. All three of us would for each other,” Changmin declares. “We understand.”

This was a conversation they never had. He wonders how much impact it would bring should a certain situation arises. Still, Haknyeon hugs the both of them as tightly as he could seated. Maybe—he hopes—the impact could just be on himself. The realization of failing to cherish his friendship with Chanhee and Changmin to its full potential in his early years just makes him want to go back to 2017 more. He wants to tell the present Chanhee and Changmin how much he loves them, too.

They discard their trash before leaving. Chanhee, the good samaritan that he is, wipes the counter clean with a piece of tissue, while Changmin segregates the plastics and papers properly. Haknyeon’s eyes finds its way to the rack of magazines and newspapers beside the door, the latter being at the bottom, spread by its branding. He kneels, quickly skimming through a few help wanted ads without really expecting anything. At first, he just wanted to check it out just because he didn’t want to live with the doubt that he might’ve missed an opportunity to find Mr. Kim—but here it was at the top right corner of the ads section.

HELP WANTED

MR. KIM’s Restaurant & Cafe 

Looking for: Servers, cashiers, cooks

Part-time work available

Contact: +82 XX XXXX YYYY

“Are you looking for a job?” Chanhee asks. “Don’t you already have work in your own restaurant?”

“I’m just thinking about it,” Haknyeon lies. “Wait for me a bit. I’ll just buy this.”

After his last-minute purchase, all three of them wait by the bus stop to get home. The downtown is still bustling with life as it isn’t that late to call for a midnight silence. He spots Owl Sushi from where he is, and thinks of what Sunwoo told him at the rooftop earlier this week.  

“Hey, why don’t you guys have training again this week?” Changmin asks.

“Coach is busy,” Chanhee simply answers. “And the season already ended.”

“Right,” Changmin says and then looks at Haknyeon who’s in deep thought. “And isn’t the soccer team’s game a few weeks from now? Haknyeon?”

“Oh, uhm, yeah,” Haknyeon blinks back to focus. “They’re practicing every day now.”

“I heard from a few teammates of mine that their coach can get really crazy just weeks before their game,” Chanhee says. “Jihoon always looks so worn out whenever we see him.” 

“Yeah,” Haknyeon says absentmindedly. The bus finally arrives and along with the other civilians, the three of them hop on, except Haknyeon doesn’t walk past by the scanner. He says in a haste, “Wait, I have to go. I remember I have an errand to run somewhere.”

Chanhee and Changmin look taken aback, but with no other choice, they just bid him good bye. “Take care, then. See you on Monday!" 

There’s an off chance that Sunwoo might not be home yet. He doesn’t know if it will make much difference if he would deliver the newspaper personally. Still, without thinking to much of the outcome, he crosses the street to take another bus. It was a short ride and thankfully, he didn’t have to walk much to get to Sunwoo’s small apartment building. The street beside the bus stop leads to his residence, past the big, fancy-looking ones—the kind where you could tell the owners wouldn’t have a problem paying for its loan since they are rich and could buy the land without any struggle. From afar, he could see the tip of Jihoon’s mansion standing out from the rest. He then passes by a few independent restaurants, a pharmacy, and a lone convenience store with a wide parking lot. He runs to the narrow street where the tightly-knitted houses were, greeted by barking dogs and purring cats sleeping under cardboards. 

The staircase that directly led up to Sunwoo’s roof apartment is locked by a tall, locked gate. Haknyeon squeezes the newspaper in between the small fillings of the metallic gate, painted in pink but rusting against the damp. That’s good enough, he thinks. He takes that Sunwoo isn’t home but even if he was, he still wouldn’t call him out. Another indicator that soccer practice hasn’t ended yet is because Jihoon still hasn’t texted him. Sometimes, something good comes out of a terrible situation.

If it hadn’t been for Haknyeon’s sensitivity to the quiet ambiance, he would’ve yelped in horror seeing a nice-looking, stylish old lady smiling before him the moment he turned around. She’s holding a basket of fruits and a handful of what seemed like groceries. It was Sunwoo’s mother.

“Are you Sunwoo’s friend?”

He tries avoiding the question by answering an unspoken one. “I just delivered something, but please don’t tell him that it came from me—or from anyone.”

Sunwoo’s mother motions to the newspaper squeezed on their door. “You mean that newspaper?” 

“Yes,” Haknyeon then offers, “Uhm, auntie, do you need help? I could carry those groceries for you.”

She looked like she was really having a hard time. Haknyeon momentarily forgets about his mission of going unnoticed, since he has decided that helping out Sunwoo’s kind mother is far more important than keeping his future the same. “Thank you,” Sunwoo’s mother says, walking towards the gate, fumbling for her keys. “What a nice young man. What’s your name?”

“Joo Haknyeon,” he says, following Sunwoo’s mother to the staircase. He waits until she had opened the living quarter itself, taking off his shoes to enter as Sunwoo’s mother urged (or forced) him to. He turned suddenly shy at the hospitality, but Sunwoo’s mother looked pretty set on with the camaraderie.  

“You can just place it on the dining table,” Sunwoo’s mother instructs. Haknyeon hadn’t realized that she had placed the newspaper in between the space of the sink and the refrigerator. “Thank you so much. I’m so happy that my baby has a friend like you. You’re the one who runs really fast, right?”

“Uhm, yes,” Haknyeon says. 

“I knew because Sunwoo talks about you sometimes.” Sunwoo’s mother says.

“Oh,” he seems surprised at the fact Sunwoo knew he existed before, but maybe it’s just the same as how he knew Sunwoo played soccer. 

“He may seem like a quiet person, but he talks a lot. He’s pretty observant, you know.”

“I could tell,” Haknyeon agrees but it’s not the kind where he thought hard of how to keep the conversation alive. “I think he’s that type of person, but we aren’t close enough for me to confirm.”

“Then why the newspaper?”

“Just a favor,” Haknyeon excuses. “I don’t mind. He’s been kind.”

Sunwoo’s mother nods. “Well, would you like to sit down for some tea?”

“No, it’s fine… I don’t really want to be a bother, auntie. You must be so tired from all the grocery shopping. This was a heavy load.” 

“Preparing tea is nothing to me,” Sunwoo’s mother assures. “Please, I insist.”

Haknyeon doesn’t really know if choosing to stay longer when in fact something like this shouldn’t even have happened is a good idea, but he does anyway. There’s an indescribable feeling that tells him so. Sunwoo’s mother pours him tea from a kettle, and sits opposite him. Haknyeon’s eyes dance around the framed pictures that hung on the wall and that rested on tables. “Ah, do you want to see some of Sunwoo’s old pictures?” Sunwoo’s mother asks, though she didn’t really wait for his reply, because she’s already standing up to retrieve an album from under the living room’s coffee table. It’s not like Haknyeon would refuse. He reckons that maybe Sunwoo’s mother had a hunch of how he and Sunwoo were closer than what they ought to be. 

Sunwoo’s mother, of course, starts with soccer, which practically became Sunwoo’s life even at such a young age. He made friends with the ball, the net, and the field than he would with people. It became a problem for a while in school, having been called for guidance counseling multiple times, asking if he was bullied or treated as an outcast. Sunwoo’s mother mentions how Sunwoo would just simply state how he wanted to be left alone most of the time, and that he doesn’t really have a problem with his classmates. 

He never would’ve guessed. Haknyeon thought Sunwoo knew how to make friends easily, which made him envious of sorts, and upset in a way since it seemed like Sunwoo wanted to be friends with anyone but him. In fact, that wasn’t really the case. It never was. Maybe part of the reason why he couldn’t approach Sunwoo properly despite their group of friends merging was because in his eyes, Sunwoo had always been shining brightly. 

Haknyeon thought hard about what Sunwoo said—about how they were really meant to time travel. It explains why he felt close to Sunwoo’s mother, even if he really knew that this moment didn’t happen in 2015. If it did, he would’ve definitely remembered. Suddenly, it all makes sense. Before he couldn’t really explain it, but he had always felt drawn to Sunwoo. Why they shared a moment in the camping trip, why he wanted to get closer with him, why he always observed him. What Sunwoo said wasn’t entirely true: it doesn’t necessarily have to be a physical moment to be the reason why he could feel things in a certain way. There were moments that he was sure that he didn’t go through, but what definitely stayed constant was his feelings. After all, love is the only thing that could transcend time.

“He made his first friend after attending a sports summer camp,” Sunwoo’s mother says, flipping the album. It’s plastic protection per page is already falling off, but it’s enough to preserve the photo papers. Sunwoo’s mother shows a picture of a very young Sunwoo smilling, soccer ball against his wrist and waist, arms wrapped around the shoulders of a very young Jihoon who wore the same soccer uniform as Sunwoo. “Honestly, I don’t know if they’re friends still, since Sunwoo doesn’t really tell me anything. I don’t feel the need to push him to… but I really hope they still are.”

There were more pictures of them playing with each other, just them two having fun, and from an outsider’s point of view, they really looked like a fallout would never have happened between them. Sunwoo’s mother closes the album then, and walked him downstairs with a kind smile, thanking him that he became Sunwoo’s friend, and that he’s welcome to visit their apartment any time.

He hops onto the one of the last traveling buses for the night, head thumping against the window, watching the downtown’s lights flash by. It was already late and the soccer team had probably finished their training by this time. 

Are you done with training already? Rest well, Jihoon-ah. Remember to drink lots of water before going to bed. See you tomorrow!

He clutches his phone on his lap, expecting it to light up with Jihoon’s reply in few minutes time, but it doesn’t, even until he already reached his stop. Jihoon’s typically the one who messages him first, but it’s not like he’s bothered by the fact that he isn’t doing so. At the back of his mind, there is a whisper that said, maybe he’s hanging out with Jeongyoon. Haknyeon sighs. He guesses that the reason why he had a feeling Jihoon cheated on him was because he already knew—the him in 2017. The sting isn’t as gradual as it should’ve been. He doesn’t really know what to tell the real 2015 him that after several attempts of replacing the love he felt for Jihoon with anger, the ending would be accepting the fact that Jihoon would always have a place in his heart, and that place being nowhere near hatred.

There aren’t much people loitering about the streets anymore, even when he reached the commercialized part of the neighborhood, where his house was. Their restaurant has a little canopy covering a few benches where some customers could wait should it be a full house. There are tables as well, but all has been kept away since they’re already closed, but only one prevails, because it’s where his uncle and his friends usually drink. Sometimes it’s just his uncle who solved sudoku problems with the tabloids he reads, all done late at night. However, it’s not his uncle who stood before him. 

“You should’ve texted me,” Haknyeon says as a greeting, and then softly, “Hey. Are you okay? Did you fight with your parents again?”

Jihoon stands up from his seat, his gym bag sitting on the table. He looks like he waited long for Haknyeon to come home. “Can we talk?”

It’s sometimes hard to believe that no matter how unfair a situation is, we are always put into place where we are meant to be. Even if the timing doesn’t seem right; even if we are still vulnerable to making mistakes at at tests we stayed up all night studying for; even if you failed to run faster than you should’ve had during training; even if you missed a kick that could’ve won you a game despite practicing nonstop; or even if the person you loved wholeheartedly breaks your heart at places you never expected them to.  

At a rooftop apartment, a son goes home to his mother sleeping on the couch as she waited for him to come home. He cries but he wipes his tears away as soon as his mother felt his presence. He bought groceries on the way home, not knowing his mother had already done it. At another home, a lover texts his own, asking if the reason why he doesn’t want to tell their friends they’re together is because he’s not proud of him. They’ve had fights like this. At a closed restaurant, with midnight fast approaching, it suddenly rains. 

“I don’t deserve you or any of the love you are giving me,” Jihoon starts. “And I would understand why after all of this, you would hate me and you would never want to see me again.”

A person hears the same speech he heard at a newly-opened restaurant two years ago. None of this should even be happening. This isn’t the place. 

“You’re the most precious person in my life,” Jihoon steps just an inch away, tears streaming down his cheeks. Even then, he didn’t even cry, and he didn’t even say his next words: “But I failed to make you feel like it. I’m not going to make excuses, nor run away from my mistakes; from what I’ve done to you—to us." 

“What are you trying to say?” Haknyeon asks. The rain is still light—there was a weather forecast earlier that said there would be a sudden rainfall, but he didn’t think much of it. Such a shame it was, because the moment he woke up in 2015, he mentally prepared himself for this moment, except it just came earlier and at a different place. It’s kind of cruel on the universe’s part for blindsiding him in such a way. Inevitably, his heart aches, maybe just as much as it did the first time it happened. 

“I cheated on you,” Jihoon confesses. He tries to hold Haknyeon’s hand, who felt like his knees were about to give up. It started to rain harder, and Haknyeon doesn’t want to hear anything—not even how the raindrops splashed against the ground, the puddles, and the canopy, which he walks towards to. 

“It’s raining. We should go inside,” Haknyeon’s voice is small. He doesn’t know why it still hurts or why he felt like crying. He turns away, walking past Jihoon all the way to the side door, fumbling for his keys. He’s soaking wet, and he doesn’t want to cry, but Jihoon hugs him from the back. He breaks down then, all the pent up sadness, loneliness, frustration of two years projected into a long overdue cry. 

“Haknyeon-ah, please,” Jihoon’s crying, too. Haknyeon’s keys slip from his hands. He twists himself out of Jihoon’s grip. 

It was a moment that shouldn’t have happened, after all. So, to make the most out of it, he asks him the question he couldn’t years ago, “Why?” He punches Jihoon’s shoulder, “Why are you doing this to me? Why are you telling me this? Why did you do it? Why?!” 

“Haknyeon—” 

Haknyeon’s punches turn softer. He lost all strength in his body that he just leans against the door. Jihoon hugs him, cradling the back of his head, chanting, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Haknyeon then whispers, “Why did you have to leave me?”

star!!

i found the job ad at home

wait i suppose you’re sleeping right now

let’s just talk about it next morning

good night!! 

i hope you’re having sweet dreams right now :)