Chapter Text
The first time it happened, Pete thought he was dying. Not because he felt pain or saw darkness. Quite the opposite. What he saw was light. A warm, gentle light, like the sunlight that used to filter through the curtains of Niran’s bedroom on peaceful mornings. A light that reminded him of happy moments, shared laughter, and promises whispered in hushed voices.
Then he opened his eyes.
The ceiling above him wasn’t the one from his apartment. It wasn’t the one from the university dorm, either, nor the house where he had spent the last few years. It was the ceiling of his teenage bedroom.
Pete shot upright.
His heart pounded violently in his chest. He looked around. The furniture, the posters, the books, the photograph of his parents sitting on the desk. Everything was exactly the way it had been years ago. Long before.
“That’s impossible…”
He grabbed his phone. The date froze him in place. He had gone back nine years.
Nine years.
Pete struggled to breathe because it wasn’t just the past. It was a past he knew all too well. A past before the losses. Before the funerals. Before the goodbyes. Before fate had taken away the people he loved most. Before he met Niran. And it was that thought that finally drove him out of bed.
Niran.
He needed to see him. He needed to know whether Niran was here too, whether he remembered, whether this wasn’t all some elaborate madness.
Several miles away, Niran was having exactly the same reaction. He had woken with a start, seen the date, and understood. Then he cried. Not out of fear. Not out of confusion. But because when he looked out the window, he saw something impossible.
His grandfather. Grandfather Gung. Walking through the garden. Alive. Breathing. Smiling faintly as he scolded a gardener for trimming a flower bed incorrectly. In the life he remembered, that sight was impossible. Because his grandfather had died.
He had passed away during the night, without a goodbye, without one final conversation, without giving Niran the chance to tell him that he would continue down the path of becoming a Wu.
Niran stood at the window, silently watching as tears rolled down his cheeks. The old man looked up, as though he had sensed something, and frowned.
“Why are you staring at me like that, boy?”
The voice carried across the garden, exactly as Niran remembered it. Niran quickly wiped away his tears and simply shook his head.
Three days later, Pete and Niran met. They didn’t officially know each other yet, but both of them knew exactly where to find the other, guided by the golden thread that bound their souls together.
When Pete arrived at the park, he spotted a familiar figure standing beside the lake. Niran. The same black shirt. The same hair. The same serious expression. Pete froze. So did Niran. For several seconds, neither of them spoke. They simply stared at each other. Like two people who had crossed death, time, and the entire universe just to find one another again.
Then Pete ran. Niran ran too. They collided in a fierce embrace, holding each other so tightly that it seemed impossible they could ever let go.
“It’s you,” Pete whispered. “It’s really you.”
Pete started crying. So did Niran. Because they both understood exactly what it meant. They hadn’t lost their memories. They were still themselves. They still carried every shared experience, every scar, and every piece of love they had built together.
That afternoon, they spent hours sitting by the lake, telling each other things they already knew. Confirming details, dates, conversations, memories—everything matched.
It was real. And then came the inevitable question.
“What do we do now?” Pete asked.
Niran fell silent. He stared at the water for a moment before smiling.
“This time, we’ll meet them.”
Pete looked at him.
“Meet who?”
“Everyone.”
Pete understood immediately. His parents. Grandfather Gung. The people they had lost. The people fate had stolen from them. This time, they were still here. This time, they still had time. And neither of them intended to waste it.
Their first step was Pete’s family. Niran was terrified, which Pete found endlessly amusing.
“I didn’t even see you this scared when we faced Qirong.”
“Your father is frightening.”
“My father is a kind man.”
“Exactly. I want him to like me.”
Pete burst out laughing. Niran folded his arms, looking both annoyed and adorable. Pete still thought he was adorable, even when he was trying his hardest to look intimidating. Dinner was a disaster. A wonderful disaster. Niran was so nervous that he accidentally spilled water, used the wrong utensils, and then called Pete’s mother “Mom,” immediately wishing the ground would swallow him whole. Pete nearly died laughing.
His parents, however, adored him. Especially because they could see something that was painfully obvious. The way Niran looked at their son. With devotion. With tenderness. With a quiet, unwavering protectiveness. As though Pete were the most important person in the universe. And, truthfully, he was.
That night, after everyone else had gone, Pete’s parents found themselves alone in the kitchen.
“He loves him so much,” his mother said softly.
“Yeah.”
“Did you notice?”
“From the moment he walked through the door.”
She smiled.
“I’ve never seen Pete this happy.”
Her husband nodded.
“Neither have I.”
And for both of them, that was enough.
A week later came something even more difficult. Pete was going to officially meet Grandfather Gung. The man he had never gotten the chance to know in his previous life. The man whose death had left a wound in Niran that never truly healed. When they arrived at the mansion, Pete was nervous—far more nervous than he cared to admit.
He knew all the stories. He knew how strict the old man was and how demanding he could be. He knew how much he meant to Niran. And because of that, Pete desperately wanted to make a good impression. Grandfather Gung received them in his study. He sat behind an enormous wooden desk. Imposing. Elegant. Intimidating.
Pete swallowed hard. Niran remained by his side. Then something unexpected happened. The old man studied Pete carefully. Very carefully. As though he were trying to uncover something hidden beneath the surface. Finally, he spoke.
“So, you’re the boy.”
Pete nodded.
“Yes, sir.”
“My grandson talks about you far too much.”
Niran nearly choked.
“Grandfather!”
“What? It’s true.”
Pete blinked. He had never imagined hearing those words. Grandfather Gung continued to observe him. Then he asked a single question.
“Do you love him?”
Pete answered immediately.
“Yes.”
There was no hesitation. No uncertainty. No fear. The old man nodded slowly before turning to Niran.
“And you?”
Niran reached for Pete’s hand.
“With my whole life.”
The study fell silent. And for the first time, Pete saw something he never expected. Grandfather Gung’s eyes glistened with emotion. With relief. With happiness. As though he had been waiting for that answer all along. At last, he nodded.
“Then take care of each other.”
That was all he said. But to both of them, it meant the entire world. The months that followed were unlike anything they had ever experienced. Because this time, they weren’t fighting against fate. They were building it.
Pete shared breakfasts with his parents, listened to family stories, took photographs, and collected memories. Every moment was a treasure. Every conversation mattered, because he knew how fragile time could be.
Meanwhile, Niran spent hours with his grandfather—learning from him, talking with him, listening to him, cherishing every second that had been stolen from him in another life.
Grandfather Gung seemed to notice, even if he didn’t fully understand why. There were moments when he would look at his grandson and think that he resembled someone who had recovered something precious—or someone who had been given a second chance.
A year later, Pete and Niran decided to tell the truth. Not all of it, because no one would have believed the entire story. But they would tell the most important part.
They gathered both families for a large dinner, filled with nervous anticipation and emotion. Pete took Niran’s hand, drew a deep breath, and spoke.
“We want to announce something.”
Every eye turned toward them. Niran smiled—a calm, confident smile. The same smile Pete had loved for years.
“We’re soulmates.”
Silence followed. A long, profound silence. Then something unexpected happened. Pete’s mother started crying. Pete immediately panicked.
“Mom?”
She wiped away her tears, smiling through them.
“I knew it.”
“What?”
“From the very first time I saw you together.”
Pete’s father nodded.
“So did I.”
Grandfather Gung snorted.
“It was painfully obvious.”
Niran buried his face in his hands, utterly mortified. Pete burst out laughing. The evening ended with hugs, photographs, promises, and plans for the future. Something neither of them had ever been able to do with such peace before.
To plan. To imagine. To dream without fearing that everything would be taken away.
That night, as they walked home hand in hand beneath the stars, the city glowed around them—peaceful, beautiful, alive—as though the entire universe had decided to grant them a second chance.
Pete gazed up at the sky.
“Do you think this is permanent?”
Niran laced their fingers together.
“I don’t know.”
“What if we wake up?”
“Then I’ll find you again.”
Pete smiled.
“You sound awfully sure of that.”
“I am.”
“Why?”
Niran leaned closer and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. Then he answered:
“Because I already did it once.”
The years continued to pass. But this time, they were happy years. Years filled with family celebrations, birthdays, vacations, Christmases, photographs, hugs, and ordinary moments that felt extraordinary simply because they were able to share them together.
Pete’s parents grew deeply attached to Niran. His mother began treating him like a second son. She constantly sent him messages, asking whether he was eating properly, getting enough rest, and whether Pete was behaving himself—questions that inevitably led to endless, amusing arguments.
Meanwhile, Grandfather Gung unofficially adopted Pete. Though he would never admit it. He still pretended to be stern. He still corrected Pete’s posture. He still criticized some of his habits. But he also saved Pete’s favorite desserts for him, asked about his studies, and listened attentively to his opinions. That was simply how he showed affection. Pete learned to recognize it. And cherish it.
One afternoon, several years later, Pete found the old man sitting in the garden, watching the flowers as he loved to do. He approached quietly and sat beside him.
“Can I ask you something?”
“You already are.”
Pete smiled. Some things never changed.
“Why did you accept our relationship so quickly?”
The old man remained silent for several moments before answering.
“Because I know my grandson.”
Pete listened carefully.
“And?”
“Because when he loves, he loves forever.”
The words touched something deep within Pete’s heart. Grandfather Gung continued.
“And when I saw you looking at him the same way, I realized I had nothing to fear.”
Pete lowered his gaze, overcome with emotion.
“Thank you.”
The old man nodded. And though neither of them said it aloud, they both understood that conversation was a gift. A moment that had never existed in another universe.
The years passed on, and little by little, they built the life they had always wanted. They finished their studies. They began their careers. They bought a house—small at first, but cozy. Filled with plants that Niran insisted on caring for personally. And family photographs that Pete placed everywhere. Every wall told a story. Every corner held a memory. And they were unimaginably happy.
One night, near the tenth anniversary of the strange dream that had changed their lives, Pete woke with a start. For a brief moment, he felt afraid. The same fear he had known years ago. The fear of losing everything. He looked around. The bedroom was still there. The house was still there. The world was still there. And Niran was sleeping beside him. Pete smiled. He leaned closer and gently brushed a hand through his hair. Niran opened one eye.
“Why are you awake?”
“I was just thinking.”
“About what?”
Pete stared up at the ceiling, at the soft shadows, at the quiet peace of the night. Then he answered.
“That we were lucky.”
Niran sat up slightly, took Pete’s hand, pressed a kiss to it, and smiled.
“It wasn’t luck.”
“No?”
“It was love.”
Pete let out a soft laugh.
“That was incredibly cheesy.”
“I learned it from you.”
They stayed awake for a while afterward. Talking. Remembering. Reliving old moments. Then Pete asked a question he had carried with him for years.
“Do you think our other life still exists somewhere?”
Niran considered it for a few seconds.
“Maybe.”
“And what do you think that version of us would say?”
Niran looked at the family photograph resting on the dresser. Pete’s parents smiling. Grandfather Gung standing proudly in the center. All of them together. All of them alive. All of them happy. Then he answered.
“I think they’d be happy for us.”
A lump formed in Pete’s throat because he believed that too. Maybe somewhere, in some distant universe, there were versions of them who had suffered irreparable losses. Versions who had cried. Who had said goodbye to the people they loved. Who had learned to live with scars. But it was because of those scars that they could appreciate every moment of this new life.
As the sun began to rise, they moved toward the window. The garden glowed beneath the first golden rays of dawn. Birds sang. The city slowly awakened. And the future stretched out before them—open, bright, and filled with possibilities. Pete rested his head on Niran’s shoulder.
Niran wrapped an arm around his waist. They remained like that for several minutes. Without speaking. Without needing to. Because some souls understand each other even in silence. Finally, Pete smiled.
“Do you know what I’m thinking?”
“What?”
“If I had that dream a thousand times over…”
Niran turned his head slightly, waiting for him to finish. Pete intertwined their fingers.
“I’d choose you in every single one of them.”
Niran closed his eyes and smiled. A smile filled with peace. With love. With hope. And with gratitude. Because in this universe, they had finally not been too late. Because in this universe, farewells had become reunions, losses had become opportunities, and dreams had become reality.
And because no matter how many lives existed, no matter how many universes were born or faded away, one truth would always remain unchanged:
Pete and Niran would always find their way back to each other. And this time, they would be able to share that journey with everyone they loved. Together. Forever.