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Chapter Text

The first time Lee Minho fell in love, the world was not very accepting of the kind of love he held.

It was pure, tender, and the same as anyone else's. The only difference was that Lee Minho was in love with a boy named Bang Chan, and that was not considered socially acceptable. It was also not socially acceptable that Chan was a farmer's child whereas Minho was a town official's son- It just was not done in those days. Before he met Chan, Minho had never even considered reaching out to the poorer, hard-working community. He lived a life of near-luxury compared to most, with everything he needed provided for him and never being given a reason to question what he had been taught.

Until he walked past the Bang's farm that fateful morning.

The sun was bright and it placed a cheerful smile on Minho's face, shielding his eyes from the shining light with a hand as he walked down the dirt path. It was well-worn and small wildflowers grew at the edges of the road. The young man was no stranger to the area, as he took the same path to and from work every day, yet he had never stopped to take the time to appreciate the beautiful scenery. It's just the day for that, he thought to himself, leaning against the wooden railings that lined the road. His eyes took in the way the green grass swayed in the light breeze, the way the sun shone off of particularly glossy leaves, and the delicate seeming flowers that spotted the field across from him. His ears were filled with the sounds of the rustling leaves and bugs buzzing, and he took a deep, calming breath.

It was truly a gorgeous place.

"Isn't it nice here?" An unfamiliar voice spoke from behind Minho and just to the left. He startled and turned towards the man who had talked to him- Ah. Minho nodded as he recognized one of the Bang children. His smile tightened just a bit as he recalled his father's stern lecture ("Never associate with those devil-worshippers!") but he did not move from the spot, instead observing the man. So this must be Chan, Minho thought to himself. His hair was a lighter color than Minho's, suggesting one of two things- Either he was a devil-worshipper as his father claimed and the hair was a sign of his devotion to the devil, or he had gotten sick as a child like his family insisted whenever the town pressed them for answers.

Personally, Minho was sure it was the latter, and a look at the boy's kind smile and dirty clothes made him feel rather confident that no matter what poison his father spouted about the Bangs (His father spoke ill of nearly everyone), this Chan did not pose a threat to him. Rather, he felt quite inviting and instead of walking away as had been his initial instinct, Minho leaned more into the railing, tilting his head as he spoke.

"I like it. It is really a good place to take in scenery- I bet the sunset is stunning," His tone was light and conversational, and Minho could not deny the flare of pride when he saw the flicker of surprise in Chan's dark eyes, before a smile that made them into small crescents overtook his expression. Minho's heart pounded at the sight, and it nearly stole his breath away with the heavy gust of wind.

"Sunsets are my favorite time. You're welcome to visit whenever you feel like," Chan offered, but not in a way that was forceful, and Minho hummed noncommittally. It was only then that he realized on the other side of the railing was the Bang's property, and a light blush dusted across his cheeks at his slow realization. When his eyes met Chan's again, Minho found himself nodding as though in a trance, chest warm somewhere beneath his tunic.

"I think I just might."

Of course, the pull that Minho felt to return to that spot had very little to do with the nature that resided there. The strong tug inside of him was confusing, burning, and a feeling he craved more than any. It was a new feeling that he had never felt before, and he wanted it replicated every moment of every day. Minho spent his days, at first, simply speaking with the older boy from the other side of the wooden railing. He may have not agreed with his father's point of view on the Bang family (Because, really, Chan was so pleasant that Minho could not imagine the rest of the family being anything less), but there was still an internalized fear. That fear placed a heavy guilt on his shoulders, and Minho knew it showed in his carefully constructed smiles and hesitance to cross the barrier between them.

Chan always seemed to know and never seemed to mind. He kept a respectful distance from his side of the short fence, never daring to step closer to Minho, as though he recognized one wrong move would send the boy running away like a rabbit from a fox. Instead, he spoke in a light and considerate tone, with smiles that showed off dimples that made Minho's fingertips tingle and a laugh that had an unrecognizable emotion beating in time with his heart. Slowly, day by day, Minho braved his fear, moving just a step closer to where Chan stood. Every day, the older man did not mention the deliberate action.

Those moments would lead to the day when Lee Minho finally, finally stood right in front of Bang Chan, and an indescribable smile wrapped up his expression when Chan asked, "Would you like to see the animals?"

Minho nodded immediately, grasping Chan's offered hand- Rough and calloused from the hard work of the farm- To assist him in stepping over the boundary that had separated them for so long. In his eagerness, Minho stumbled, and Chan's other hand came to wrap around his lower back to support him. He swallowed thickly, skin burning wherever Chan's touch met his body. Minho took a small breath, looking up into his gently smiling eyes as he straightened up. His mind could not leave the small space between them, but Chan pulled back, inclining his head.

"They're this way," His voice held such a unique quality, and the slightest accent that hinted where the Bangs had lived before this village. Minho nodded, following wordlessly as the light-haired boy whistled sharply. A large brown and white dog came trotting through the grass, faithfully pausing by Chan's side. A light gasp tumbled from Minho's lips as he fell to his knees, taken with the beautiful creature. His heart squeezed in his chest as he ran his hands over the soft fur, and a delighted giggle burst from within him. He hugged the animal close, glancing up at Chan who watched from the sidelines with a smile that Minho could compare to fondness. The very notion sent his heart speeding up again, and the blush was on his cheeks again.

He buried his face into the soft fur of the patient animal, biting his lip with nerves he never knew he could have.

"What's his name?" Minho asked quietly. He prided the way his voice did not reflect the storm of pleasant emotions playing inside of him.

"Yeonggi. He was the runt, believe it or not," Chan kneeled in the grass beside them. His dusty, threadbare breeches made contact with the ground and Minho winced- Surely his knees were not protected at all by those! The older caught his eye, and once again it was like his mind had been read, "Ah, but Minho, not everyone can have as nice of clothes as you. Mother makes me a new set once a year- It's enough."

It was the first time Chan had spoken his name, and it sent shivers down Minho's back. Still, he nodded in embarrassment, turning his attention back to Yeonggi who was nosing at Chan's palm for attention. His gentle laugh floated on the air, much like a melody from his mother's piano, and Minho was certain in that moment that with Chan, it was impossible to lose a smile. His words, his actions, and everything about him was relaxing and comfortable and at the same time made Minho so tense with an emotion he could not hope to identify. At his lack of response, Chan looked up, curious gaze meeting Minho's warm one.

"What is it?"

"You never said my name before," It was Chan's turn to have his heart pound at the sight of the boy's shy, pleased smile, and he ran a dirt-covered hand through his hair, eyes aimed towards the ground.

"I'll be sure to say it more often, then."

By the time spring transitioned to summer, and summer to autumn, Minho had found a place wrapped securely in Chan's firm arms, stealing forbidden kisses as though they were the most valuable thing the world had to offer. Chan's dried, cracked lips were a world away from Minho's soft, plump ones but neither minded, molding together and moving with a desperation that only something as secretive as their relationship could produce. Minho's hands rubbed softly on Chan's thighs and the older groaned lightly into the kiss, breaking away to rest their foreheads together. His eyes fluttered open and Minho felt his breath stop when their gazes met, breaths tangling together before them like wild vines growing freely. The younger's cheeks were flushed and his eyes glossed over, and he tilted his head, pressing their lips together again in a feverish dance. Chan's hands moved from laying lazily around his shoulders to one hand wrapping itself in his hair, the other gripping tightly onto his chin as he pressed the boy impossibly closer.

Minho whined, the feelings still as raw and new as they had been the first time the pair had joined their lips together. Energy thrummed around them in the silent, empty room they had taken up residence in for their moments alone, and pleasure coursed through his veins. Affection gripped his heart in its tight grasp, and Minho's hands slipped gently beneath the older's shirt, feeling the toned muscles tense and contract. Without warning, Chan bit Minho's bottom lip, sending a sharp pain coursing through him. He leaned back with a hiss, tongue running over the sore spot as he pouted at the elder. Chan laughed, light hair mussed and lips wet in a way that had satisfaction coiling in the pit of Minho's stomach.

"Aigoo aigoo aigoo, why are you so impatient, really?" Chan scolded softly, his calloused hand running over Minho's dark hair with a loving smile. Their hazy eyes considered each other, and Minho giggled when Chan pressed a kiss to his jaw.

"I'm sorry~" He slid off of the elder's lap, laying flat on his back as he stared at the dark, cobweb covered ceiling. Chan carefully laid beside him, pulling him close to his chest. Another gentle kiss found it's place behind his ear and Minho laced their hands together- His own soft and unmarred whereas Chan's showed all of the scars and roughness of a hard worker. He brought their joined hands to his lips, breath hovering hesitantly over them before he placed an open-mouthed kiss on Chan's wrist. Minho then tucked their hands under his chin and allowed the boy to wrap himself around him. There was something tight in his chest, and words fought against his closed lips, behind his tightly clenched teeth. But the warm feeling was so beautiful that the words begged to be said, and before Minho could lose his courage, he allowed the language to clumsily tumble from his mouth, "I love you, Chan."

Chan had been stroking Minho's hip with his free hand, and he did not hesitate for even a moment as he replied, "I love you too, Minho."

The younger looked up to see his wide smile, and all worries he had felt dissipated in that moment. Chan. Chan was there, it was Chan's arms he was wrapped in, and Chan who made Minho feel that even his flaws were worth loving. Chan who kissed away his tears when his father's criticisms burned into him too deeply, Chan whose very presence made even the coldest days feel warm, and Chan who's careful hands always knew just how to handle him to not scare him away.

He fell asleep in those sturdy arms, clinging to the older's hole-filled shirt without even realizing.

By the next spring, they had shared a lot more than kisses and Minho had left his parent's home to move into the clothing repair shop that he had begun to work in- He wanted nothing more than to make his own living rather than live on his parent's money forever, and when the owner passed on with Minho as his only employee, it seemed like the natural next step. Chan did not visit in the daytime, because any would find such a behavior odd. Once night fell, however, the older would sneak in and they would spend their late evenings and nights together. He was always gone in the morning, leaving the younger with a bittersweet feeling in his chest.

Minho loved nothing more than falling asleep with Chan's broad chest against his bare back, their warm skin touching and fulfilling a desire that he had been previously unaware of, before meeting the man. It was as though something had been completed when Chan came into his life- His rich laughter and gorgeous dimples and strong disposition giving Minho a confidence and self-love he had never experienced. Chan seemed to love him just as much as Minho loved Chan, and it made his cheeks flush with delight every time the pale-haired boy came around.

But all good things had to come to an end.

At first, Minho had been too groggy and confused to understand the commotion around him as he was roused from his sleep. There was banging and shouting and it was disorienting. His head pounded as he blinked, feeling a hand wound tightly in his hair before he was yanked off the bed, a gasp tearing from his lips. His wide, fearful eyes met his father's blazing ones, and an ice cold feeling flooded through his veins as his eyes quickly slid over to Chan's sad, resigned ones. He was being held tightly by people that Minho recognized, saw on a daily basis and his lip was already bleeding. Still, he offered his lover a gentle smile. Minho felt his heart twist and clench as he finally absorbed the situation, breaths quickening as his father and other men from the town shouted at them, slurs and curses dripping from their lips like venom from a snake.

His father tightened the grip in his hair, viciously gesturing for the others to move ahead first with Chan. The older was being held tightly around the neck, Minho able to hear his struggle to breathe even over the din in his bedroom, and he cried out as his lover was seized, thrown out of his door and down the stairs as though he were an unwanted animal.

"Father, no, please- I'm sorry- Stop this-" The pleading tumbled naturally from his dry lips but fell on deaf ears as he was dragged down the same case, ignoring the pain with each step. Chan was in a heap at the bottom, blood pooling on the ground where he lay- When the other men of the village held him up, Minho could see the deep gash in his eyebrow, dripping the crimson. Still, Chan's dark eyes met his with an empathy that sent tears rolling down his cheeks as they were hauled outside for the whole of the town to see. Minho was held by his father, a distance away from Chan where he could not reach the older and he sobbed, stretching his hand out for him uselessly.

"A sodomite in my own family," His father hissed, shoving him to the ground and pressing the heel of his boot into Minho's chest, "Disgusting! And you dare partake in such activities in my own town? You're lucky you're not dead already, but him? Oh, just you wait."

"No no no," Minho wept, hands clasped together as though in prayer- Something he had thrown away long ago, "Father, please stop-"

"You dare still call me that?" He was heaved up by his shirt and a heavy fist caught his jaw, sending him sprawling back to the dirt beneath. It was quickly followed by a blow to the side of his face, swelling his eye quickly. Pain flared and drowned his senses, the salted taste of blood present in his mouth, but he could still hear the sounds of Chan's whimpers and groans to the side and he stretched, ignoring the way his father grasped the collar of his shirt. His teary eyes searched desperately for the older man, and even through the blurriness he could see how much worse Chan's beating truly was. Whereas Minho had been saved for his father's wrath, Chan, as a poor farmer's son and supposed devil-worshipper (How many times had they laughed over the notion in the past year together?), had a large group of men from the town.

There were mutterings from the villagers surrounding the group- Women, taught to never interfere, and men who did not wish to get involved watching from the sidelines. Some had the decency to look uncomfortable as Minho spat out blood, chest heaving as he tried to crawl towards Chan, his hands clawing in response to the pain that seemed to envelop his whole being. He tried desperately to meet Chan's eyes yet again, but the older was crowded by others, all dealing blows that surely broke bones and clearly drew blood.

"Stop stop stop stop," Minho chanted without pause as he struggled against his father's iron grip, and he was certain that the last kick had snapped a bone in his leg but he could not care less because Chan was hurting so badly and he needed to be by his side-

He needed to tell him he loved him.

Finally, he succeeded in wrenching himself away, and despite his body protesting loudly he threw himself into the throng of men around his dear Chan. They parted like the sea, allowing him a look at the crooked, broken body of the man he loved. A cry tore from Minho's throat, loud and raw and painful as he dragged himself to Chan's side. The older's pale hair was stained dark red with blood and he reached out, carefully touching the bruised and swollen face. Were it not for the blood that flecked from his torn lips with each labored breath, Minho would have already thought him dead.

"Chan," He sobbed, entwining their hands and ignoring the way his tears stung the open wounds on his face, "Chan, you knew, I know you did, why-"

It took a few moments, but Chan's lips twitched into an apologetic smile, and he began to, barely, mouth the words his body was too broken to say.

"I know Chan, I know, please don't..." Minho's throat spasmed, and he could not bear to swallow the tangy mixture of saliva and blood that filled his mouth and stained his teeth. Instead, he allowed the nauseating liquids drip into the dirt, mixing with Chan's blood and his own tears. Chan continued to mouth the same words, but becoming progressively slower as Minho's cries grew louder. The older boy's grip tightened around his hand suddenly and their eyes met- Chan's as warm and loving as ever. He shook his pounding head, "Don't leave me, I love you, don't leave me..."

Minho's first life ended at twenty-nine years old, ten years after the death of his illegal lover, Bang Chan. Their names were not noted in history specifically, but they were included in the hundreds of victims of "The Sodomite Executions" that took place over a twenty-year span. While Chan did not survive their initial assault, Minho was able to escape his hometown, only to be killed a decade later at the hands of his father who refused to have his legacy stained.

Chapter Text

The second time Lee Minho fell in love, he was only four years old.

He did not understand it at the time- Anything, really. At such a young and tender age, he suffered from awful night terrors that left him exhausted in the mornings. At first, he did not recall the dreams that caused the fifteen-minute long episodes of screaming and crying that sent his parents scrambling for answers. Minho did not understand why his parents looked at him with red-rimmed eyes and asked him about his dreams, or why they took him to see the doctor so often. In his four-year-old mind, it was just one of those things he went along with because of his undying devotion to the people that loved and raised him from day one.

But one day he could recall the sight of a man with pale hair covered in blood that sent his heart racing and squeezing, and that was when the art therapy began. Three days a week he would go to a room with other children and draw and listen to the special doctor. Once that doctor asked him to draw what scared him most. He drew a picture of the man with light hair and warm eyes being hit by someone he labeled "Father." The doctor had a long talk with his parents in a cold office after that, and came to the conclusion that his dad had never hit or even threatened to hit anyone in Minho's presence.

"Why is your dad hitting that boy, then?" Dr. Cho leaned down by his ear. Minho had shook his head.

"Because that's my father, not my dad."

No one seemed to understand the difference except for another boy in the art therapy room. Kim Woojin was a year older than him and Minho latched onto the older boy the moment he said, "Oh, so you have a dad and a father and they're different. That's cool."

Minho's chest had ached with such joy, because no one knew how to make the distinction but Woojin did. Woojin hyung quickly became his new friend, and it was not long before Minho was constantly inviting him over for playdates. Playing with Woojin hyung was fun! He liked to draw, read, and build fun scenes with their Legos on Minho's bedroom floor. It made him undeniably happy, and the best part was that when Woojin nine and Minho was eight, they got to start having sleepovers. At first, his parents had been against it- He still had night terrors regularly, and if he did not suffer from night terrors, he had vivid nightmares instead. But after begging his mom and dad for weeks, they finally relented.

When Woojin hyung slept with him, Minho did not have nightmares or night terrors.

For the first time in his life, he slept peacefully through the night, his hyung laying peacefully by his side. Even at that age, Minho liked the way he perpetually smelled of the sweets his parents baked. As they matured into young teenagers, Minho found he liked his wide nose and his small eyes and his soft hands and his beautiful voice and everything about him. When they were side-by-side, he felt as though he could take on the world and Woojin's adoring smile whenever he did anything the elder considered cute had his heart racing.

When Minho was fourteen, ten long years after they met, he realized he was in love with Kim Woojin. Minho was okay with that.

But also at age fourteen, Minho came to know that the nightmares and night terrors he had battled with his whole life (Never with Woojin hyung at my side) were not just harmless dreams. Much too vivid and much too real, he could recall the feeling of his own swollen face and the horror that tore his insides to shreds as he watched Bang Chan's final breaths. For years, he had denied the strong feeling tugging in his heart, that told him it was all real and he was remembering, not dreaming. It was not until he had the more pleasant dreams, of hugging Yeonggi and watching sunsets and having kisses stolen from his privileged lips that he noticed those dreams were as real as the afternoon he had spent eating ice cream with Woojin hyung the day before.

So there was a heavy guilt in his chest, because Chan was his first love. Chan, who had protected him and cared for him and was careful in all the right ways. How can I love Woojin hyung when Chan gave me everything? He tried desperately to reason with himself- That was another lifetime. Decades, perhaps even centuries before if he compared the two time periods. At the same time, Minho could not recall the world in that life matching up anywhere in the history of this one. No where did he find a mention of The Sodomite Executions that he had run from for ten years before meeting his bitter end at the hand of his father. He could not find the town he had grown up in in history and Minho fell into a darkness that even Woojin failed to touch.

The teenager pulled away from everyone and everything he knew, stepping away from school to smoke and drink in dirty alleyways instead. It was as though he lived on the streets rather than in his welcoming home. None could get in touch with him, the closest being his mother grabbing his arm as he exited the school building and pleading he come back home on the rare occasions he went to school. Dark circles rung around his eyes, and dirt crusted his fingernails (Chan's hands were never clean, he worked too hard) and he got into fights. Anything to punish himself for the failure of his previous life.

Anything.

Until Woojin showed up again when Minho was in his senior year (How did I even manage to get to senior year?), a grim smile set on his face as he firmly grasped both of the younger's arms, tugged him into a tight embrace, and asked him, "Oh, Minnie, what have you done to yourself?"

And he took the wreck of a boy to his apartment. Minho felt dirty in the aged but clean place, and he hugged his bruised, cut arms (When you spent your time with gangs and delinquents, fights were simply a part of daily life) around his middle, refusing to step out of the doorway. Minho could not bring his gaze to meet Woojin's piercing eyes, shame coating his skin thick like honey, and Woojin did not force him too. He gently took the younger's hand and led him to a table in the kitchen, sitting him down and wetting a rag. As he carefully cleaned each nail and crevice of Minho's hand, he spoke.

"After you stopped coming home and talking to your family, I just focused on school," He explained, "I graduated a year early and I've been working and going to school since. I heard that even though you only show up to take tests, you've still made it to senior year. I'm proud, Minho. You've done well despite everything."

The words ignited a fire inside of the younger's chest.

"Done well? How is this doing well? I ruined everything, I left everything behind! I, I left you behind!" Minho had stood, intent on making his way to the front door because I don't belong here, but Woojin grasped his hands. His eyes searched the younger's face for something, and the very feeling of his presence forced a sob from Minho's lips. He buried his face in Woojin's shoulder, gasping and shaking like a leaf in the wind.

"What went wrong, Minho? Why did you fall off the deep end? I promised to always be here for you," His hyung's voce was wracked with guilt and Minho shook his head. It wasn't your fault, hyung. Don't make it your fault. It's all me. But he could not articulate the thoughts and only cried louder, voice cracking and fingertips surely bruising Woojin's shoulders with the force of his grip. Still, Woojin did not break away from the embrace, and it sent a burning sensation racing through Minho, making his spine tingle and heart flutter. This only caused him further agony and he shook his head, "Minho, talk to me. It's hyung, even now you can still tell me anything..."

"I'm sorry Woojin hyung, I'm sorry," He whimpered, tears soaking into the older's denim jacket.

"Calm down, it's okay," Woojin reassured, petting his hair. His voice was melodic as always, and it made Minho's head spin.

"I love you hyung," Minho sobbed his confession, making his own heart ache. The words were painfully true but Woojin did not react strongly, only hushing him, "No, hyung, I love you, I love you-"

"It's okay, Minho," The words where whispered into his ear and the younger pulled back, one hand coming up to cup the side of Woojin's defined face. He was still crying even as he inspected the elder for some sort of negative reaction, but he found none. Only the compassion he had seen since he was four years old and trying to draw his nightmares away. It was a love so physically painful, so very different than the one he had for Chan, but love all the same. Minho bit his own lip but Woojin's thumb came up, grasping his chin with warm fingers. The pad of Woojin's thumb rested on his bottom lip, scratching against the sensitive skin as he pulled it out of Minho's unforgiving bite. The sensation had Minho gasping a soft hyung, and he leaned forward, but Woojin shook his head, taking a step back. Fear and panic flooded into him, and I knew it, I knew it, "Don't look so terrified, Minho. I won't kiss you when you're buzzed and upset."

Minho had truthfully forgotten the slew of alcohol he had consumed only hours before, but it certainly explained why he had not resisted being pulled into Woojin's embrace, and his home. But his mind was stuck on the other words the elder had spoken.

"You would kiss me if I was sober?"

"And not an emotional mess, yes, Minho. Come on, I think you need a shower," Woojin spoke casually, and a bright light burst in Minho's heart. Acceptance. It was a new feeling, because when he was with Chan it had been clearly mutual from the start. Every interaction they had, every movement they made and every word they spoke had dripped with rich affection and Minho had kissed Chan long before admitting his love. He had not craved to be accepted by the older, because he had been accepted from the start. With Woojin, it was so, so different.

He did not want to ruin their fourteen-year-long friendship, even if Minho had all but disappeared from Woojin's life two years prior. Society still rejected relationships between two men- He had seen countless homosexuals beaten within an inch of their lives (Chan Chan Chan) while on the streets, and slurs were still strong. Nineties Seoul was not the wonderland people liked to advertise. Minho knew that, and the innate fear he felt made him sick. But there was acceptance standing right in front of him, hand wrapped loosely around his wrist and expression nothing but natural and loving disappointment at his sorry state. Minho clung to Woojin's back as the man readied the shower.

For the first time in years, he was given the privilege of sleeping by Woojin's side, and the haunting nightmares of Chan's existence did not torment him.

Kim Woojin, however, was a liar in Lee Minho's books. That was decided the next morning as Woojin cooked eggs and ignored Minho's offended pout when he, yet again, rejected a kiss from the younger.

"You said you would kiss me when I was sober, hyung! Look, sober!" He whined, laying his head on his arms. His cheek touched the cool plastic of the table, and Woojin snorted while shaking his head. He gave Minho a critical look which the younger returned, "You're such a liar. You just said that to shut me up, right? God, you actually think I'm disgusting and you hate me, don't you?"

"If that were true, would I have let you sleep in my bed last night?" Woojin raised a brow, and the growing panic in Minho slowly began to subside, "I also said if you weren't an emotional mess, Minho. You still aren't all...You. You need help, and you know it. If I kissed you now, not only are you not of age, but that would be me taking advantage of your mental state. I won't do that."

Minho couldn't argue with that.

Still, either way, the teenager refused to return home. He could not go back when he had treated his parents so poorly, and was such a disappointment. Woojin allowed him to stay at his apartment, working hard to help him catch up in school and get the help he needed to deal with his sleeping problems. Minho was prescribed medication- It was all very hush-hush, naturally, because Minho could not escape the stigma against mental health in the country. But he had the medicine and he worked hard to graduate on time, and spending his free moments with Woojin when the older was not working...It was beautiful. He could not resist just staring at the man sometimes, because he was truly the closest thing to perfection this world had created.

And Minho had realized by the time he graduated. Chan loved him. He loved him. Minho was living in a different time now, a different life. Sure, he was still the same Lee Minho with the same face and name, but his life experiences were different. The soul may be the same, but nothing else was. Chan would have certainly wanted Minho to find happiness after his death, and absolutely in another lifetime. Minho had wasted far too much of his precious time hating himself.

What he should have learned from his time with Chan was that life was short, and he should take the happiness he was given.

Besides, Woojin hyung finally kissed him after he got a job as a dance instructor for children, their lips touching softly like the beats of a butterfly's wings. There was nothing desperate or hungry, nothing sad in the kiss, only the love of two lifelong friends whose affection had progressed into something further. It had been a moment that had Minho's tired heart fluttering back to life, and he allowed their breaths to linger in each other's space for a moment longer before throwing his arms around the older. He could only repeat the phrase thank you like a broken record, because Woojin had always been there for him. Woojin hyung had not left him behind. He chased away the nightmares and made it easy to breathe, even if Minho's love for him was sharp inside, almost like a pain.

It was beautiful all the same.

Minho met with his parents on his twenty-first birthday, and held Woojin's hand tightly with his own as he confessed to being in love with the elder. His mother cried and his dad seemed mildly confused, but neither rejected him outright. Instead, they just asked that he please let them back into his life. Minho did so with a smile and Woojin's full support.

"It wasn't so bad, was it?" Woojin asked later that night. The two were wound in skin, only a purple sheet covering them as they looked into each other's eyes. The bedroom was dark and the atmosphere intimate. Minho's fingers drew lazy circles on Woojin's arms, raising goosebumps that made the younger giggle affectionately. Woojin pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose but stayed silent, waiting for his boyfriend's reply. Minho's lips pouted but the older paid it no mind, refusing to rise to the mischievous bait. Finally, Minho sighed, placing his forehead in the crook of Woojin's shoulder and savoring the skin contact. His light breaths dusted across Woojin's collar bone, where he rested an open-mouthed kiss.

"No, it wasn't. I missed them," He admitted quietly, lashes fluttering closed. They tickled against the older boy's skin and Woojin shivered, drawing a laugh from Minho. In response, he was pulled closer, pure affection bleeding into the hug. Woojin kissed the crown of his head as Minho savored his scent, still sweet from his parent's bakery even when mixed with sweat among other things.

"I'm glad, Minnie. I really am. I told you they missed you, didn't I?" His voice was teasing and light, scolding but loving.

"Hyung is pretty much always right," Minho agreed, before grinning, "Unless he's wrong."

Later in the year, Woojin was scouted by a talent agency for his singing, and Minho could only think finally. The elder was so painfully talented, he could not possibly waste his life away at his parent's bakery. There had to be a bigger life for him out there, and the Korean music industry was growing at a rapid rate. He was certain that his hyung could and would make it huge, and he deserved to. Woojin was kind, selfless- He always gave and gave and gave for others, even if it left him with nothing. It was an admirable, frustrating, and lovable character trait that made Minho dizzy. The younger knew that it was time for Woojin to finally start taking his share in the world, and he fully encouraged the man's transition into the singing world.

Even if it left Minho behind.

There was no way that Minho and Woojin could stay together if the elder pursued music, and Minho was okay with that, no matter how much Woojin protested. I love you, hyung, and you love me. You've helped me along this far, it's time for me to stand on my own two feet. Sure, it hurt like hell when Minho packed his bags and moved into an apartment closer to his parent's house. Their kiss that time had been so different from the rest, lips wrestling and teeth clashing and salty tears mixing with cocoa flavored chapstick. It was nothing like the soft butterfly wing-beat kisses or even the slow, passionate ones. It was nothing but I'll miss you and You're always mine, and Minho laughed as they pulled away, running a hand through Woojin's recently-bleached hair.

"I've loved you since I was four years old," Minho confessed as he was pressed close to Woojin's chest.

"I know."

"I still love you."

"I love you more than you can imagine."

They still met up, though infrequently due to Woojin's increasingly busy schedule. It was not that they were broken up, exactly- It was like taking an extended break. Their hearts still reached for each other, clinging to each other with an undeniable right too. Minho would dare to venture that their hearts were made to be one.

When they did manage to meet, if in public Woojin would brush against Minho lightly, be it his hand while walking side-by-side, or fixing stray hairs. They spoke and laughed and smiled, and Minho told the elder all about the children he taught to dance with a brightness inside of him. Talking about his own life was fun, of course, but Minho much preferred to hear the elder talk about the music he was working on. The passion was unmatched, and it made Woojin's always-soft eyes become sharp and engaged, shining and oh so beautiful.

If alone, it was cuddling on the couch or in bed, butterfly wing kisses and holding hands, I love yous whispered between praises. Minho could survive like this, he thought. It was doable. Woojin was still his and even if they could not go out on those dates or live together or see each other every day, it was enough. There were even times when the older was daring enough to surprise-visit him at the children's dance studio, sending the mothers into a frenzy because it was Kim Woojin, the man who had stolen the hearts of many women in Seoul. Minho's heart would burst in happiness and no one could blame him if he happened to pull Woojin into a kiss by his coat the moment the parents and children left for the night.

The two had plans for Woojin to stay the night at Minho's place. The older had gotten time off and he, predictably, wanted to stay with the boy who made his heart pound and gave him a reason to keep singing. His inspiration. Minho loved being called that. It always sent a pleasurable tingle through his whole body, and so he waited in the cold busy night. He was wrapped in a light brown coat and his breath was visible on the night air. The lights of Seoul danced around him as he stood by the edge of a crosswalk, waiting where he knew Woojin would come from. Surely enough, the elder's shock of bleached hair made an appearance and he came to stand at the other edge of the road, waiting for the crosswalk light to change. Traffic sped past them but Minho and Woojin's eyes met, matching smiles dancing on their lips. Minho waved excitedly at the man and he could see his face crinkle with laughter, even if he could not hear it.

Suddenly, a young girl who had been standing behind Woojin burst out in front of him, running into the street. Time seemed to slow as Minho watched Woojin's smile drop, expression morphing into one of panic and determination. The older's hand reached out and he dived forward, and Minho could not hold back the terrified, "Hyung!" that was torn from his lips as the young child was pushed from out of in front of the bus, into Minho's arms.

Woojin was not so lucky, and blood covered Minho's body as the child's mother screamed, along with much of the general area. The little girl was still crying in Minho's arms, her back drenched in Woojin's blood. Her mother came rushing forward, past the heap that was Minho's whole life, sobbing and taking her into a close hug. Minho could taste the older's blood on his tongue as he staggered forward- People were still shrieking, calling for help and traffic had stopped all around them. He dropped to his knees in front of the mangled body, and Minho wrapped his arms around himself, vomiting next to the horrific scene. Something inside of his chest shattered, and distantly he realized it was his heart.

He woke up in the hospital the next afternoon and sobbed in his mom's arms. The funeral was meant to be a private affair, but reporters still flashed their cameras away. The newspapers called Minho "Kim Woojin's closest friend."

They didn't have the slightest idea.

Minho's second life ended at the age of seventy-two, dying of natural causes. After the death of his lifelong friend and secret lover, famous singer Kim Woojin, he suffered from nightmares yet again- This time, he dreamt of two deaths. Minho married at age thirty-five and had two daughters. They never understood the sadness in their father's eyes, nor the reason why he was so unafraid to face whatever came after the end.

Chapter Text

The third time Lee Minho fell in love, he had to come to an understanding.

This time, when he was reborn, he came to accept that this was his third life immediately. It was obvious- He could still clearly remember Chan's warm smiles and Woojin hyung's angelic voice, clear as day. He also knew that it was unnatural, to recall these past lives. No one else seemed to share this unique ability, and he never offered the information up. Minho's previous suspicions that he was being reborn into different worlds was proven, as well- He clearly remembered kissing Kim Woojin for the first time in their shared living room apartment in 90s Seoul, South Korea, but now he was a teenager living in 80s L.A., California. It was a different atmosphere entirely, despite the both of them being big cities, but Minho did not prefer one to the other. Nor did he prefer the old times that he had lived in the first time. Each life had something unique to offer, and he had come to appreciate them for what they were.

This life's something unique was Seo Changbin.

When Minho turned eighteen years old, he promised himself that he would stop thinking of Chan and Woojin hyung. He knew that he could never return to those times, and while he could hold them a fond memories in his heart, it was only self-destructive to compare those two men to every potential partner that came into his life. In all honesty, he had done Woojin hyung a great disservice by comparing their love to Chan's every time, even if he never spoke it, and it was one of Minho's greatest regrets. Bang Chan was not Kim Woojin, and Kim Woojin was not Bang Chan. So, when he blew out the candles of his eighteenth birthday cake surrounded by family and friends, Minho's wish was that he would find someone in this life that he could treat right, to do well by and to love.

The moment he met Seo Changbin two weeks later, he knew his wish had been granted.

(Minho learned rather quickly that Seo Changbin was neither Bang Chan nor Kim Woojin.)

It had been a simple first meeting, really. Minho was simply trying to catch the bus on a rainy (Rain, in California, it really was a miracle) evening, and the only other person at the bus stop was a teenager around his age. Minho had never spotted him in school before so he likely went to another one, but the bus also would not show for another twenty minutes and Minho was feeling confident. It also might have had something to do with whatever his friends had been smoking in the closed-in room before he decided it was time for him to go, but that simple thing did not change the fact that Minho walked right up to Changbin, stuck out his hand, and said, "Yo, I'm Minho. Yeah, strange name, L.A.-born Korean, what can you do?"

The dark-haired boy had stared at him for a few moments, expression blank and fairly closed off. Minho did not back down, pleasant smile still in place. Finally, the teenager heaved a sigh as though there was nothing he could do about the situation and grasped his hand, "Changbin. Korean-born Korean but I've been here for a few years."

"Really? Do you still speak Korean well then?" Minho asked curiously, sitting next to Changbin and stretching his legs out in front of him. He ignored the way the rain began to soak into his jeans, instead laughing at Changbin's incredulous look.

"What, am I just going to forget my native language because I moved away..." His soft pout and mumble of the words only added to the undeniably cute charm of the boy, and Minho knew he had no chance from the start. The way Changbin's eyes inspected the world around him, as though he was trying to find all the secrets it held, and the way he looked down in a sort of embarrassment when Minho casually touched his shoulder was enough to send Minho's mind spinning. His heart had been stolen faster than he could think, and it was an intoxicating sensation. The brunet questioned Changbin as they waited for the bus, finding out his age (Seventeen), his school (His rival school), his hobbies (Writing lyrics. The younger had been particularly shy with giving out that piece of information, to which Minho cheerily informed him that he liked to choreograph), and more.

Seo Changbin was a fascinating mix of dark charisma and a soft shyness that truly drew Minho in. They sat next to each other on the bus (Though Changbin refused to look him directly in the eye after being called cute halfway to Minho's stop), and the older had been able to draw a home phone number out of him before exiting the bus, a stupid, lovesick grin on his face.

Minho's friends called him sprung. He agreed without a doubt.

It did not take long before Minho was spending nearly all of his free time with Changbin, who slowly began to open up to him more and more. Curiously, as he opened up, the cute shyness was more replaced with an apathetic awareness of the unkind world around them, and it was such a dramatic difference that Minho was almost unsure that the Changbin he had met at the bus stop and the one he had come to know were still the same person. He was even less sure when, after only knowing each other for three months, Changbin pressed him against his bedroom door and kissed him fiercely.

The kiss was too much teeth and tongue and anger directed at the world, but Minho paid it back in full without hesitation. They battled for dominance in a fashion that Minho had never done before in any life, much less his eighteen-year-long one this time around, but the heat of the moment was just as strong as the tug in his heart that screamed this is the one you're looking for, and he did not regret the kiss for a single moment. Not even when Changbin rested his head on the junction of his neck and shoulder, and he leaned his own back against the door, both panting with bright red lips. Minho grinned as he licked the bloodied spot Changbin had nicked on his bottom lip, placing a hand on the back of the younger's head.

"Want to go to the Pride parade with me?" He asked casually, and Changbin laughed.

"As a date?"

"No duh. What else, Binnie?"

Their relationship was unconventional in all kinds of ways. Minho, truly, was the one who put forward the effort in the relationship. It wasn't like it was a take-and-receive sort of thing. Rather, Changbin was still painfully unsure of himself (That really explains the weird mood and personality shifts, Minho thought affectionately one morning as he brushed the bangs out of a sleeping Changbin's eyes), and as the older one who was already out in the open with not only his personality, but his sexuality as well, Minho naturally took the lead.

Except for that first kiss, he would tease for months to come.

It was Minho who planned their dates, Minho who chose where to meet up, Minho who chose when to hold hands, Minho who decided when it was the proper time to kiss Changbin, Minho who decided everything. He consistently checked his choices with the younger, of course, but he rarely offered an opinion beyond a distant shrug and silence. It was sad to watch him, in a way. Changbin lived in fear of himself and those around him, and Minho could only do so much to show him things were okay. He comforted Changbin on those nights where he broke down in tears, confessing his self-hatred and wish to leave their suffocating world behind. He kissed away the tears and wiped away the mucus, wrapped his arms around painfully skinny shoulders and murmured hundreds of reassurances into the younger's ears. Minho doubted they were ever heard.

But with the bad times came good ones. Ones where Changbin felt free enough to live as him, rather than take an apathetic look at his surroundings and carelessly notice its flaws.

"You really like strawberry ice cream?" Minho raised a brow at the younger, who happily licked the stray drop of ice cream running down his cone. Changbin wasted no time in nodding, slurping off the top of his ice cream scoop in demonstration.

"It's really good," He confirmed, and the two sat down outside of the shoppe, cones in hand. Whereas Changbin had gotten a scoop of vanilla and a scoop of strawberry, Minho had chosen the simple sweet cream route- Though he had put multi-colored sprinkles on top, a fact that Changbin had teased him for the moment he paid. Minho hummed in response, licking his own sweet treat. His brown eyes observed his boyfriend fondly- From his black clothing to his solemn expression, anyone would label him a troublemaker. If only they knew how sensitive he is- No. How good of a heart, he corrected himself immediately. While it was true that Changbin was sensitive, it came from a place of wanting to please people, to not be a burden. It was endearing and infuriating.

Still, whenever Minho looked at Changbin and saw his uniquely beautiful features (Shaped but round lips that stretched thin when he smiled, rounded nose, deep-set eyes, monolids, and a face shape that Minho was proud to say was only his), his heart pounded and his palms would sweat just the smallest bit. Being around someone as beautiful and lovable as the younger kept Minho on his toes because if he didn't keep himself in check, he would sit and stare for hours with a lovesick smile.

Yeah, like his friends said. Sprung.

Minho was okay with that.

"What are you doing?" Changbin muttered, looking down at his ice cream with a light blush dusting across his cheeks. Minho resisted his urge to ruffle the younger's freshly-cut hair and leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand as he considered the embarrassed boy. Changbin's eyes flickered up from his dessert briefly, before going right back down after meeting Minho's smiling ones.

"Hm~ Thinking about how kissable you look when you have pink ice cream on your lips. So cruel to tease me by telling me it's good, too~" He said casually, and the previous pink had darkened considerably, even tinting the tips of Changbin's ears. He grumbled something along the lines of yeah, right, and continued to eat his ice cream. Minho laughed behind his hand quietly, attempting to spare the poor boy who didn't seem like he was breathing quite right after the flirty comment. His mischievous side won out, though, and he lowered his voice in both tone and volume, catching Changbin's attention and his gaze, "What? Was that really such a good offer? Would you like me to try it out?"

Changbin shook his head immediately, turning away from the older.

"Aw, I'm just playing Changbinnie!" Minho whined, but let it go, instead focusing on saving his melting ice cream. He had certainly fulfilled his "teasing Changbin on his good days" quota, and he was content with leaving their conversation on that note.

Later that night, though, the two ended up in Minho's bedroom. Changbin had phoned home, telling his parents he had a project the now-graduated Minho was going to be helping him with. It was partially true- Minho learned quickly that Changbin put forth almost no effort in school, and hardly had passing grades. He had made up his mind to fix that, and spent a lot of time tutoring his boyfriend and helping out with any assignments. Because of that, Changbin's parents pushed for the two to hang out a lot, something that left Minho smirking. If only the homophobic couple knew exactly what their darling son did when he was with that tutor.

That particular night involved a sense of intimacy the young couple had yet to explore in their relationship. Changbin was a mess of intricate emotions that Minho was not quite sure how to deal with, but he did his best anyway. The older laid a small kiss behind his ear, coaxing his black AC/DC shirt off gently. Changbin wrapped his arms around his bare torso, refusing to look up.

"Why am I the only one without a shirt..." It was meant to come out playful. His shaking voice did nothing to cover his nervousness. Minho smiled softly and took the younger's hands in his own, placing them on the hem of his striped long-sleeved top. Changbin finally looked at him, eyes wide and unsure, but after a reassuring nod he slowly removed the article of clothing with Minho's help. He held the blue and white fabric bunched tightly in his hands, and Minho leaned forward. He placed a larger hand over the younger's, pulling it away. He massaged Changbin's hand until it relaxed, and he spread his fingers wide, making sure to keep eye contact with the younger to keep watch of his reactions. The last thing he wanted was to make him uncomfortable or force him to places that he was not yet ready to go. With a slow release of his breath, Minho placed Changbin's hand firmly against his chest, right above his heart. He held it there, simply breathing for a few moments.

"Do you feel it beating?" He asked in a hushed tone, and Changbin nodded just slightly. Minho's lips curved up, "It's beating for you, you know. Especially when it's this fast. When I see your beautiful eyes, hear your voice drip from those petal lips, feel your soft hands...My heart races for you, and only you. You're beautiful and special and unique, Changbin. I want you to remember that."

"How can you say that so seriously?" Changbin's eyes crinkled into a smile, and Minho's breath was stolen away. He took the lead (He always took the lead) and laid a hand on the younger's neck, bringing their faces closer together until their lips met. It was slow and sensual, Changbin's hands threading in the older's hair as Minho danced his fingers across his bare skin, feeling his taut muscles and making him shiver in his arms. He smiled into their kiss, mind hazy with pleasure as he broke away, mouthing down Changbin's neck. He let out a breathy moan that had Minho nearly pausing in surprise, but perhaps unsurprisingly...

"I love this side of you too," Minho whispered hotly against the flushing skin. The lack of reply did not shock him.

Minho most enjoyed his time with Changbin when they laid on his couch. The younger was small, and he fit snugly to Minho's chest. The couch was old, dated, and uncomfortable in the worst ways, but the subsequent whining from Changbin as he cuddled to his chest was what made it worth it. It was not often that he made his opinion known, but that "damned couch," as he always cursed with a distinctive glare was enough to draw them out. It was both entertaining and adorable, and Minho could never get enough of the younger boy's cute pout and whines.

He loved to tilt his head up and swallow them with a kiss.

But it was best to just wrap his arms around the small frame and hold him close, breathing in the masculine scent of his shampoo and slowly falling asleep in the lazy afternoon heat. California was never cold, but when the air conditioner was on, it was chilly enough to throw a blanket over the two of them. It always sent Changbin right to sleep, and Minho would be forced to hold back his affectionate giggles at the teen turned clingier and clingier, sleeping with his lips just barely parted and breaths puffing out lightly. It was painfully cute and filled his heart with a fluttering feeling.

Minho pressed a kiss to the sleeping teen's forehead before laying his cheek atop his head, closing his eyes.

He did not expect to fall asleep, nor for Changbin's parents to come looking for their son at his house. He certainly had not expected his own parents to let them right in, though looking back perhaps it was his fault. He had never been shy about his affections for his boyfriend around them, and he was thankful his mom and dad were accepting of it all, but Minho had failed to explain that it was not the same situation with Changbin's parents. The boy's family consistently spoke down on anyone who engaged in the "sinful homosexual behavior" they detested so much, and had gone so far as to cheer on violence towards anyone who was not of heterosexual orientation. So when those horrifying excuses for parents walked into the living room, seeing their son wrapped up tightly in his "tutor's" arms...

The scene was not pleasant.

And it gave Minho horrible flashbacks.

"How dare you poison our son?" Changbin's mother screamed, her hand wrapping tight enough to bruise his thin wrist that was trapped in her grip. Changbin winced but did not say a word, looking at her with widened eyes.

"Poison?" Minho's mom shot back, arms crossed. He shook his head at her and she pursed her lips, looking upon Changbin's parents with contempt.

"Yes, poison! Our Changbin would never have even had nightmares about this sort of, this homosexual activity!" His father's face was bright red and veins throbbed in his neck. He spat the word homosexual like it was a curse, and Minho swallowed thickly, trying to push back the memories that were prodding the back of his mind. His gaze fled from the enraged man to Changbin, but the younger refused to look him in the eyes. Something in his heart snapped at that, and the pace of his breathing quickened. Minho pulled on his own sleeve anxiously, "Well, Changbin? What do you have to say for yourself?"

Changbin did not reply, blinking slowly.

"We're leaving- Don't even think of returning here again, do you understand me son? Oh, Heavens, what do I do!" His mother pulled him away and out of the front door, his father close behind. Changbin did not even attempt to look back, and Minho felt numb.

He still felt numb three days later when Changbin snuck into his bedroom, eyes downcast and body language closed off but he was there at least. Minho dropped his bag on the floor and took a jerking step towards the younger. He froze when he saw the teen flinch.

"Binnie?" He asked carefully. The boy slowly looked up, and Minho felt his heart shatter at the sight of the bruised face and swollen cut on his lip, "Oh, Changbinnie, no...Come here, let me see..."

The older approached him carefully, pressing his shoulders lightly to sit down on the bed. He retreated to the bathroom, wetting a rag with cool water. He returned as quickly as he could, gently prodding at the inflamed areas. Changbin did not make a noise even as Minho pressed the cold rag more firmly against the swollen flesh, holding it there as he inspected the younger. He seemed impossibly smaller, as though every bit of self-confidence he had ever built had been crushed to nothing more than dust, blowing away in the wind. Minho took the boy's limp hand in his own, stroking it with his thumb.

"Changbin, I'm so sorry...This is all my fault," His own voice was choked with tears, but Changbin shook his head lightly.

"Why are you freaking out? It's not the end...It's not the end," The younger tightened the hand that was resting on his own knee, but the words felt strangely hollow as they echoed in his mind. With that apathetic expression, Changbin shifted himself into Minho's lap, yanking him into a kiss that too much teeth and tongue and emptiness directed at the world. The kiss tasted of, strangely enough, only Minho's tears.

After his parents had heard about his secret visit to Minho, despite their warnings, Changbin was sent back to live in South Korea. This time it was Minho who had made the effort to seek him out on the day he was scheduled to leave. In the airport, chest heaving and heart pounding, he made eye contact with the love of his life. Changbin's eyes betrayed nothing as they stared at each other. His face was dull and still bruised and Minho wanted nothing more than to reach out and trace the marks that marred that uniquely beautiful face.

"I love you," Minho breathed. The lack of reply did not shock him, even as Changbin turned around and walked away from him. His heavy eyelids slid shut in resignation and he stumbled back, wrapping a hand in his hair.

It hurt.

Minho's third life ended at age twenty-four, in a mysterious fire at his place of work. This came roughly five years after his ex-boyfriend, Seo Changbin, was sent back to his home country by his parents for his "homosexual behavior." After hearing about the death of his ex-boyfriend, Changbin apparently moved back to Los Angeles where he worked at a lyricist and cared for the man's grave, against his parents' wishes. Minho had lived the rest of his short life knowing that Changbin was simply too afraid to go against his parents, terrified of what it would mean for his future. Changbin regretted leaving for the whole of his life.

Chapter Text

The fourth time Lee Minho fell in love, he realized he could not save everyone.

Korea was going hungry in this lifetime. Girls were being offered jobs in Manchuria only to be sold into slavery. The Japanese held all of the power, but Minho could not discriminate. It was his fourth life and he had learned long ago that there, truly, was no difference between races- It was only the country you affiliated yourself with and the language you spoke. Physical appearance could be changed, so the only thing that mattered was your heart, your personality (Changbin had a weak heart). Some people inherently were good and others were inherently bad, was what he had come to think.

One of those people was Han Jisung.

In order to send money back home to his family, Minho had been forced to move into the Korean slums of Osaka. It was a dirty place, where the children all played together in mud in the streets, pigs resided within the houses of their owners, and you couldn't trust a single person. If you showed that you had anything extra- Any money, food, clothes, or other such items, you would always be asked for favors, and if you did not give these favors, your things would be thieved. Minho had learned this lesson very quickly, and once had the fleeting thought that wondered if, perhaps, this was a little what Chan had lived like. He could not enter the town without being sneered at for his accented Japanese (Though he was lucky enough to be fluent in it, unlike many of his brethren). The police would do nothing to help if someone was discriminatory or harmful towards him. His wages at the factory were half that what a Japanese man would receive.

Minho was not bitter at this life, however. He recognized that his first and third lives he had lived with privilege, and the second one could be considered the same if not for the years he spent trying to ruin himself. He had largely had it easy (Excluding watching those he loved be taken from him) and now had to learn what it was like to struggle and work hard. Minho took a pretty wife at a young age- Soonhi- In order to please his suffering parents back home, and sent as much of his wages back home as he could. Soonhi was kind, respectful, and had a keen eye. Minho was not in love with her, no, and she knew this intimately. But they still had a strong friendship, and it was through her that he met Jisung.

In order to make more money, despite their two-year-old son Jongsu strapped to her back, Soonhi ran a kimchi stand in the market. She had many regulars, Korean and Japanese alike, for the Koreans often lacked wives to make them kimchi or the the Korean wives lacked the time while caring for children. The Japanese simply enjoyed her product. One of her regular customers was Han Jisung, a bright man who lived in the same slums as them. His smile had stolen Minho's breath away the moment he saw it that afternoon. He had been let out of the factory early (Only due to a terrible accident with another worker which he did not want to relive) and immediately made his way to his wife's cart, intent on playing with Jongsu to keep him entertained so Soonhi could work.

He had not counted on their neighbor being present and already playing with his son.

"Soonhi!" Minho called as he jogged towards her, and she looked up in surprise, black hair framing her delicate face.

"Minho? What are you doing here?" She asked instinctively, but then shook her head- Just one look at his shaking hands told her all she needed to know. She inclined her head behind her, "Say hello to Mister Han. I think he enjoys playing with Jongsu more than my kimchi."

Minho raised a brow but stepped behind her cart, finding an unfamiliar man with lighter brown hair grasping his son's small hands and waving them around. He cleared his throat and the stranger turned- Minho was caught off-guard by the pure radiance of his grin. It showed all of his teeth and a little too much gum, and you could hardly see his eyes from how darkly hooded they were with the smile. The man stood, bowing.

"I'm Han Jisung- You must be Minho! Your wife has told me all about you~" Minho noted with a sad twinge in his chest that he introduced himself with his Korean name rather than the Japanese one he had been no doubt forced to choose upon entering the country. Many these days refused to go by their birth names even at home, due to the discrimination they faced for their monosyllabic surnames that made their ethnicity obvious. It was curious that this Jisung had so casually given his real name, and Minho returned the smile in full.

It was not long before Minho had come to know Jisung as a close friend.

They lived in the same slum area for Koreans, but Jisung struggled all on his own. He, too, had to send money back to his family, but he didn't have a wife or child to support. He joked that it made life easier, but Minho knew by the way the sparkle died in his eyes when he spoke of it that he was unbelievably lonely. He couldn't imagine working in the factory all day, only to return to an empty house. No people, no meal, nothing to say and nothing to do but go to sleep to repeat the suffocating days. Still, Jisung never failed to insist that he had it easier than Minho, because while Jisung only had to split his money between caring for his one person and his parents and elder sister in Korea, Minho had three people to support in Japan and two in Korea.

"Even with Soonhi working, soon enough little Jongsu will have to go to school. Don't you see how much harder it is financially on you?" Jisung's voice ended with a higher tone than when he had begun speaking, and he inspected his hands, red from the cold of the autumn months (Minho had to force away thoughts of Woojin who had always encased his hands when the weather was cold). Still, Minho shook his head and sighed.

"I'm not worried about the money."

"That's your first problem~" Jisung laughed.

"Don't lie to yourself," Minho snapped suddenly, and the younger's laughter stopped, "I know you don't really care about the money either. It's lonely and sad and hard, isn't it? You struggle and struggle all day, and to come home to what? Emptiness? I can deal with being poor, but not having anyone is just too much. What are you living for, then?"

Jisung was quiet for a few moments, as though contemplating. Nervous fingers danced along his own knees, and Minho looked at the habit with a sense of pity. Finally, the younger looked up, smiling almost unsurely as he rubbed the back of his head.

"I have you though, don't I, hyung?" His breathing stuttered but Jisung pressed forward, "Sure, I don't get to come home to you in my house, but you're my friend. Soonhi and Jongsu, too. It's like you guys are my family while I'm here!"

If you asked Minho to look back and pinpoint the moment where he began to fall in love with Han Jisung, he would not be able to provide an answer. He could not figure out when the platonic protectiveness he felt for the brunet started to shift and morph into something greater, something far beyond that. He hadn't the slightest idea when the casual concern for a friend turned into the panicked concern of someone in love. Minho did not know when Jisung's smile made his stomach feel strange or when the younger's touch set him on fire. It was a mystery to him, but Minho felt those feelings all the same. Soonhi was no fool when she asked if, perhaps, they should have Jisung move in with them- Unfortunately, it wasn't safe for anyone to live alone and he was such a close family friend. Minho had tried to object with a series of why that was not okay built behind his lips, but Soonhi gave him that knowing smile.

"Jisung is perfect for you, you know," His wife cut off his protests immediately, and Minho shut his mouth, biting his lip harshly. Jongsu was three years old, now, sleeping by his mother's side. Soonhi's hands, now rough from her daily work of carrying the cart to and from the market, stroked his short black hair affectionately, and she looked into her husband's eyes, "I would be a fool to not see it. I wish only for your happiness as a dear friend, Minho. And Jisung, too, is my dear friend. I worry for him."

"I do, too..." He admitted, and he shivered at his own confession. She smiled, "Soonhi, I..."

"Ask him to come live with us. He can help pay the rent we owe the landlords. It will make it easier on all of us, no? You two can share the bedroom, Jongsu and I sleep in the living room anyway," Her voice was nothing but firm and soothing, and Minho felt the tears swelling behind his eyes. Her small hands took his, and she pressed a cool kiss to his cheek, "I don't mind. You know I never did, darling."

And so the younger moved into their home, and Minho spent the hours of the night being tortured by Jisung's sweet scent just inches away from him, his rounded face that reminded him of a squirrel relaxed only in his sleep. He would stare in the darkness, memorizing each rounded line and imperfection that made the image of Han Jisung. Minho spent those long nights with a racing heart and the aching need to reach out and cup his face, to pull him in close, and protect him from everything that made his life difficult. Because Jisung's life truly was difficult, more than anyone else in the ghettos. Minho could not explain it, but there was something so dead and beaten down behind those brightened eyes and cheerful smile, and it terrified him. He looked at Jisung and felt a sense of loss.

But Jisung never let those dark feelings show.

Instead, he laughed and smiled and played with Jongsu like nothing bothered him. He worked hard all day long but did not complain even upon returning, only giving his thanks for being allowed to move in with them.

"It really does make a big difference, hyung. You were right," Jisung admitted one night, as they blew out the lamp to go to sleep. Minho was silent, fearing that if he offered any words, the younger would curl back into himself. That he would stop opening up and things would go back to square one. It was the last thing he wanted. Jisung shifted, turning over on his side so he could face the elder, looking straight into his eyes, "Having people waiting for you when you get home- It's like a breath of fresh spring air! I really love it, it makes the long days of work worth it. You three are family to me, just as much as my parents and sister."

Minho held his gaze, and Jisung tentatively reached a hand out to lace with Minho's, which lay in the small space between them. His fingers were long and bony, and frighteningly cold. The tension in the small room rose, but neither moved, simply breathing in the shared space. A smile burst its way onto Jisung's lips and Minho could almost feel the way his heart skipped a beat, tearing a soft gasp from him. The reaction only made the brunet smile wider, before he aimed his gaze down slightly, looking at their joined hands rather than Minho's face. It was intimate in such an unusual way, and Minho sighed lightly, shutting his eyes as he tried to commit it to his memory. If there's one moment I want to remember from this life, it's this one. Please, just let me remember this if nothing else...

Not once had there been such a moment that he wanted to capture so clearly, but even the drunken singing of the neighborhood men he could hear muffled through the walls and the sticky air of summer was something worth remembering.

The two fell asleep just like that, with their hands entwined and breaths mingling and they faced each other. It was enough to bring a soft blush to Minho's face the next morning, when Soonhi awoke them to get ready for work and gave him a knowing look. Jisung did not mention it after she left, and so neither did he. It felt as though it was a secret between the two of them, even if Minho's wife clearly knew about it. She would never know the specifics the way the two men did, and it made the moment all the sweeter. But as soon as it happened once, Minho was addicted to it- The feeling of their hands wrapped together, knowing nothing but each other as they basked in each other's pure presence. It was sweeter than any candy he had tasted, and it sent butterflies fluttering inside of his stomach. From that night on, Minho refused to go to sleep until Jisung held his hand, which the other seemed to happily comply with.

But this did not come without any concerns. He was not sure where they stood, if he were honest with himself. Minho looked at Jisung and knew that there was love for the man inside of his heart, but as for Jisung? He wasn't the type to be honest about his feelings, and he seemed hesitant to move any further than they already had. It did not feel like there was something holding him back- No matter how Minho looked at it, it felt more like Jisung didn't want to.

Was he satisfied with being just friends? Was Minho misreading the whole situation? Or, was it something to do with those dark emotions that the man never, ever let bleed and bubble to the surface?

"Can I kiss you?" Minho breathed the question and it floated like a dandelion on the spring breeze. Jisung had been moving around, seemingly unable to sleep- It was surely very early morning at that point, and Minho truly felt sympathy for the boy when he looked at him with wide, dark-ringed eyes. His pink lips moved without sound, seemingly unable to find the answer he wished to convey. He allowed him time to collect himself, and finally he spoke.

"You have a wife," Jisung choked the words out as though they were physically painful, and Minho had to hold back the resultant snort.

"Soonhi is the one who wanted me to ask you to move in."

"Oh."

"Oh?" Minho slid closer, placing a hand nearer the back of Jisung's head. His thumb rested on the younger's ear, and Jisung's eyes moved this way and that, as though he were searching for something new in the dark bedroom. Minho observed the way he struggled to swallow, and his body was tensed as though ready to push him back and run at any moment. Minho sighed, shaking his head, "You can say no. It's okay. I just wanted to ask you."

There was a moment of silence.

"No, hyung, I want you to kiss me," Jisung confessed almost shyly, and it was all Minho needed to tilt forward, their lips fitting together like forgotten puzzle pieces. It was clear that the younger was inexperienced in the area, his already large eyes frozen in almost fear as he stared straight forward and his lips not moving in the slightest. It brought a slight quirk of a smile to Minho with a new wave of affection washing over him and the attempted to coax a natural response out of Jisung with carefully measured movements and nibbles. Finally, he responded with an anxious air about him, but Minho could not have cared less at the clumsy attempt. It was endearing and awkward and reminded Minho slightly of his first time with a woman all those lifetimes ago, but it had such a Jisung quality to it that it finally drew a laugh from him.

Jisung blushed deeply, whining in a high tone as he buried his face in his arms. He did not look up no matter how much Minho apologized-

Perhaps it didn't help that each apology was punctured with a giggle or two.

Even still, they fell asleep holding hands yet again- This time, Jisung's long fingers wrapped around his wrist and his palm, and it was again something unique to the boy that made Minho smile.

Months later, there was an accident at work. In all of that time, Minho and Jisung had grown closer, and Minho teased that he had finally taught the younger to kiss. They never did more than hold hands when around Jongsu and out of respect for Soonhi, kept any and all things romantic in that small bedroom. They did not see each other outside of the house, not even daring to meet at Soonhi's cart in fear of doing something that could cause suspicion. Homosexuality was only seen more openly spoken about among women, and at that it was considered to be scandalous. For a married man to openly show affections for a male lover in public and in front of his wife, especially ones of Korean descent...It was not safe. But the two were comfortable with each other in ways they never had been before.

Perhaps that was what made the accident so painful. Things had finally found an equilibrium. Money was still tight and the tensions were growing in the countries, but Minho was not scared of his future. He should have realized that being so comfortable was asking for something to go wrong. When Jongsu ran to him during work (Causing suspicious looks from his boss), crying that "Uncle Jisung got hurt," his heart dropped lower than he could have ever imagined. With a fake strength that he could only show in front of his son, he reassured the child that he would come home as soon as the work day was over (How am I going to make it through these next few hours when Jisung is in pain) and sent the boy home. He nodded at his boss and set back to work, trying his best not to make mistakes. Minho had never done anything so hard in his life.

When he made it back, their neighbors informed him Soonhi had enlisted some of her loyal Korean customers to assist her in moving Jisung to the nearby hospital. Jongsu had gone with them. The expenses were wracking up in his mind as he made his way to the only hospital that would even consider accepting Koreans, but larger than that was the terror at the state he would find the dear man. It was not at all a situation with a positive outlook- Jisung's right hand had been completely crushed and one of his legs harmed so badly it could no longer be used. Not only could he no longer work, but taking care of himself seemed impossible, too. He spent a terribly long time in the hospital, unable to speak beyond pained gasps and apologies, and by the time he returned home, Minho had taken on a second job to be able to afford the medication it would take to numb him of the pain.

He spent his days working as hard as he could, and his nights soothing the tortured man.

"I'm sorry," Jisung whimpered, hot tears splashing off his cheeks as Minho and Soonhi struggled to change his clothes. Heavy scars covered his body and Minho shook his head, a sad smile tugging at his lips.

"Don't be. I love you, okay? Don't be sorry," He begged, pressing a kiss to the man's temple. Soonhi left them soon after, Minho drowning in the misery of the bedroom. Whatever already dark thoughts Jisung had been prone to before the accident had increased tenfold, and Minho had not seen his smile in so long. He would lay the man's head in his lap, running his fingers through greasy hair as he murmured comfort and reassurances. It seemed like Jisung never stopped weeping, and it wrenched at Minho's insides every time he heard a whine or sob, "Oh, Jisungie, it's okay, just breathe through it...Hyung is here. I love you."

"You don't...You don't have to take care of me," Jisung struggled to get the words out, but he did so with a dark determination, "Toss me on the streets. It's too much money."

"You are worth more than any amount of money, Han Jisung," Minho replied firmly, placing an upside-down kiss on Jisung's cracked, rough lips.

"I'm not."

"You are."

"...I love you, hyung."

When Minho returned home from work three days later to find Jisung with a gun in his hand and blood painting his walls, the only thought he could muster was wondering just where the man had managed to procure one from.

Minho's fourth life ended at age forty-one after a disease spread in his neighborhood. It was roughly considered to be seventeen years after the suicide of his lover, Han Jisung, who took his own life after being rendered incapable of work- Therefore unable to send money back to his struggling family in Korea, and becoming a financial burden on Minho's small family who housed him. This was all detailed in Minho's memoir entitled A Hand That Held: A Memoir of Korean Life in Japan, which told of the man's life from age ten to aged thirty-five. He described Han Jisung as his enigmatic lover who always struggled with suicidal thoughts but hid it with his smile. Minho's son went on to become a famous scholar and published his father's memoir in the early 2000s.

Chapter Text

The fifth time Lee Minho fell in love, the world was a hateful place.

He considered himself to be a fairly reasonable person in every life he lived. He really did. But in his fifth life, he felt so cheated and wronged that he could hardly believe it. Minho missed Jisung with a fierceness he could not have imagined, because he really was not given enough time with his love. They were forced to live in discrimination and poverty, and Jisung lived in a world of darkness and agony. So even though he had made a promise to not hold onto his past lives, he started out bitter this time around. He hid those bitter feelings behind a frosting-sweet smile and perfect manners. Those were expected in his household, anyway. As the oldest of five children in an upper class family, Minho was supposed to smile when in public, behave at all times, and never utter a word against his parents. That was the life that was predestined for him, and he accepted it.

Or, Minho thought he did. He thought he dealt with his suffocatingly traditional parents and his clinging younger siblings with all the grace, professionalism, and plastic falseness that it required. Minho did not even want to look at finding love because his parents had set views on what was and wasn't acceptable and with every person he loved being taken away despite his best efforts, he was tired. He was done with it all.

Everywhere he turned, he saw discrimination and hatred and suffering. People could not be themselves and South Korea was pushing unrealistic standards that absolutely no one could possibly hope to meet. It made him sick to his stomach, but who would even care to notice? He learned his part early in life and he played it well- Minho had read the script and memorized it. He was nothing more than an actor on the world's stage, just as insignificant as the next ensemble member. Who cared that he could remember living before? Did that really make him special like he'd always thought? No, that was your selfish self-importance talking. Minho was just a boy living an unsatisfying life, covering his hatred with a soft pleasantness and no one would call him on it.

Until Hwang Hyunjin came into the picture.

It was the stupid romantic meeting you read in online posts, the ones everyone romanticized and then probably wrote Hanahaki disease fictions about. It instantly left a bad taste in Minho's mouth (Or maybe that was the burnt coffee he had been chugging while prepping to stay up for another session of "finish all the assignments you procrastinated!"). He had wanted nothing more than to drink his shitty overpriced coffee, organize the damned assignments, and get the hell out of there before anyone he knew could show up and distract him. Minho had not intended on stopping in on his student body's favorite coffee place but his had been closed down for a gas leak and it was the closest coffee shop. Unluckily for him, it was not even someone he knew that came in and disrupted his life.

No, it had to be the insanely beautiful boy from the arts school who decided that Minho had done something wrong enough to bother him.

"Excuse me?" Minho heard from just in front of his table, and instantly began cursing his fifth life. Still, he looked up with a genial smile at the stranger in front of him. The sun shone bright in his eyes and he could hardly see who it was, but he could make out the general shape of a boy near his age.

"Yes?" He replied in that perfectly friendly voice. Minho's eyes squinted as he moved his head around, attempting to find a place where he was not blinded. The late afternoon sunlight had not been an issue when he was looking down at the slew of papers and projects, but now that he was unfortunately engaged in a conversation with another human being, it was pretty debilitating. This stranger seemed not to mind that Minho was clearly struggling and instead hummed, seemingly tilting his head as he considered him. Minho's smile nearly strained but instead he brought up a hand to cup around the side of his face, hoping to shield his eyes some, "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Actually, yeah. Do you mind if I take a seat?" Yes, but Minho wasn't going to say that. Instead, he shook his head and gestured for the boy to take the seat across from him. Finally tired of the sunlight, Minho stood briefly to pull down the blinds before carefully returning to his chair, this time able to truly see the guy in front of him. And damn, if he wasn't shocked to see likely one of the most attractive men in this lifetime to date. His thin, angular face, perfectly sloped nose, a set of ear piercings, puffy kissable lips, and a mole under his left eye really had Minho thinking about how much he'd want to sleep with that guy in an instant but instead he dug a thumbnail into his palm and spoke.

"So what can I help you with?" His voice was light and airy, but on the inside he was scolding himself harshly. Don't even bother, Minho. You know how it goes. The boy smiled at him, just barely, and leaned forward a bit.

"I'm Hwang Hyunjin, I go to the arts school just up the street," Hyunjin gestured vaguely in the direction behind him, "Listen, I'm a photography student and I need to pick a model. My teacher said the model could be a dying flower for all she cared, but it had to be something that, like, showed something different than you'd expect. I was hoping you would be my model for the next three months."

Minho was silent for a few moments- This Hwang Hyunjin was informal, straight-forward, and most of all, had said something quite intriguing.

"Something different than you'd expect?" Minho allowed a bright laugh to leave his lips, internally cringing at how much it was forced, "What would I even show?"

He did not expect the slight smirk Hyunjin had given, sitting back in his chair with his arms crossed as he replied.

"Bitterness."

It had not been the reply Minho had been anticipated, and it had been enough to leave him in a shocked silence while Hyunjin pulled a paper out of his messenger bag and began explaining the finer details of the modeling project. He felt as though a bucket of ice water had been poured over him and his skin felt like wax as he inputted his name and number into the boy's phone, handing it back without having even spoken another word. Minho blinked as his own cell vibrated with a text from the photography student, who grabbed it without even asking and saved his own contact. He had been speaking the whole time, and now had his brow raised expectantly at Minho, who let out a heavy sigh.

"What?" Hyunjin laughed.

"I asked your name and how old you are. I know I have your name saved in my phone, but for all I know you typed the wrong name, and I need to know how to address you," He took an obnoxiously large drink from Minho's coffee cup, ignoring his offended spluttering in favor of making a dissatisfied face. Minho grabbed the cup back, holding the frankly disgusting drink protectively to his chest.

"Lee Minho, I'm eighteen so I'm definitely your hyung whether you act like it or not," He answered without thinking, before his widened eyes met Hyunjin's. Minho leaned back with a 'just playing!' kind of grin as he laughed, "Ah, don't take it so seriously~ It's just a joke! But I am eighteen either way."

Hyunjin only snorted, that infuriating smirk back in place as he looked up, eyes crinkling in a conspiratorial way, as though he and Minho shared a secret that the rest of the world didn't. His dark irises were shining as they met Minho's cognac ones, and Minho felt his breath hitch just slightly. Hyunjin dug through his bag for his wallet (Black, leather) and pulled out a couple of bills, placing them on the table in front of the older boy. He stood, sliding his bag onto his shoulder (How am I only just now seeing his camera around his neck) and heading to the door. Minho watched him go, mouth open to ask about the money when Hyunjin turned around just in the doorway.

"Go buy yourself a coffee actually worth drinking at the cafe a block over. It's way better, Minnie hyung," Hyunjin winked and was off without another word.

So yes, Lee Minho really hated the whole ordeal. Hwang Hyunjin had seen right through every layer he painted upon himself in an instant, and had used his temporary state of shock against him to get him to agree to model. It was stupid and Hyunjin was pretty and Minho was done, was how he would summarize it if anyone asked. The first time Hyunjin texted him to meet up for a modeling session was a week later, and he was this close to not even showing up at the home address he had been texted. He sincerely did not feel the need to get up at eight in the morning to go do whatever modeling entailed for a stranger with an attitude. Especially when that stranger was two years younger than him and insanely hot.

Still, either way, he found himself in Hyunjin's designated modeling room, which was currently decorated with a special flooring sticker that made it look like white marble tiles, a white backdrop, and fluffed up white comforters.

"What's with the white theme?" He asked curiously, and in reply Hyunjin shoved a few pairs of white skinny jeans in his arms.

"It's going to contrast with that natural darkness in you. Put those on, keep the shirt off," Minho immediately went to protest, but Hyunjin pressed forward, grabbing his camera and beginning to play with the settings, "Don't worry, I'm not gonna, like, do a full frontal or anything. The space is set up like a bed, see? The only skin below your neck that will get photographed is your shoulders, collar bones maybe, and feet in certain shots. There's a bathroom in the door across from here. You can bring your clothes back with you. No one is home but us, so you're not going to run into anyone. I'm pretty sure one of those will be your size. If not, bear with it please. Hurry, while the lighting is still good."

And that was how Minho ended up shirtless, arms folded in front of him and around the comforters which covered a good portion of his face. His legs were folded in the air behind him and he looked up to the corner of the room as Hyunjin had directed. Honestly, it was the opposite of comfortable and he wasn't quite sure what expression he was supposed to be making, but when he asked the younger had grinned and said, your normal face is good, and left it at that. Minho shifted slightly with each sound of the camera's shutter, wanting this whole ordeal to be over. Once a week for three months? Just what had he signed up for?

"Alright Minnie hyung, now look into the camera!" Hyunjin directed, and Minho rolled his eyes.

"Who gave you permission to call me that?" But he complied anyway- Anything to get this over with sooner.

He should have realized that getting it over with did not mean he would get to just leave. No, it instead meant he had to suffer through a disaster of an attempt at Hyunjin cooking right after, which actually resulted in the fire department being called when the teenager set his own jacket on fire and tossed it into the curtains in his panic to remove the item- You know, instead of stopping-dropping-and-rolling like Minho had screamed at him. It was that same day that Minho had a pleasure of meeting the sixteen-year-old's parents who insisted they take him out to lunch as an apology for their son's attempt to poison him.

Apparently whatever Hyunjin cooked normally ended up with someone being sick for days, to which the younger had finally had the decency to look embarrassed at as he aimed his gaze at the pavement and muttered something about hoping it would be fine that time.

Minho would have been lying slightly if that pout and blush hadn't completely made him want to squeal and pull the boy into a hug.

No, he wasn't like that. The Minho who was willing to do such things had been left behind after his third life and a boy named Seo Changbin. The thought had instantly put a damper on his mood, but he still made it through the meal without dropping his amicable and mannerly persona. It was quite unnerving to feel Hyunjin's piercing gaze on him the whole time, though, and the one time they made eye contact was more than enough. Not only was there that quiet knowing in Hyunjin's eyes (Because somehow that boy could see into his very soul), but it was also way too charged with attraction for Minho to want to go through again.

But Minho had always been weak against his own emotions. He knew that, and so it was of little surprise to him when two months into their modeling deal he grabbed the younger by the shirt collar and smashed their lips together with a bruising force. Hyunjin wasted no time in reciprocating the affection. It was scorching and hungry for all of the feelings that Minho had denied himself in this lifetime. He had refused to make any personal connections, only feeling the basic love he could for the members of his family and creating the most superficial of friendships in fear of losing them all. Living for the fifth time was indescribably lonely, and Hyunjin wasn't the kind of person to not comment on the tears that tainted the fervent lip-lock.

"What are the tears for, Minnie hyung?" He asked, his thumb tracing the older's trembling bottom lip, "What are you so afraid of?"

"Losing everything," Minho gasped, but not in Korean. Instead, he spoke in English and Hyunjin gave him a confused look. Minho shook his head, patting at the tears with the backs of his hands as he sniffled. Recognizing that he wasn't going to get his desired response, Hyunjin offered an indulging smile.

"I didn't know that you spoke English."

Minho did not stop contacting him after the three months were up. After hearing Hyunjin had gotten only a C on the project, he offered to treat the boy to a meal of his choice, which he happily accepted (As it turned out, Minho was actually a really terrible model and only Hyunjin's skill got him the C). They both quickly decided that was their first date. The two had not kissed since that one afternoon, but Minho was okay with that. More than okay, really. Instead, they took their time to get to know each other, and the biggest thing they had in common was their love for dance. Suddenly, Minho found his afternoons occupied by dancing in studio with the younger, for hours on end. They would dance together until they had no energy left, collapse to the wooden floors, and lay there- Just being with each other.

Unlike many times before, Minho was not in love right away. It really had been just an attraction to a pretty face. But once he got to know the boy underneath, the love bloomed slowly, like a flower in his chest. It started so small, just an appreciation that there was someone who cared enough to look past his frosting-sweet smile and see the rawness behind it, but it did grow. In the months after Hyunjin's seventeenth birthday, Minho could admit that he was in love with the boy. The boy who looked at him and saw the bitterness in his eyes. The boy who arrogantly stole his coffee and left him money to go buy a better one. The boy who dared tell him to take off his shirt the second time they met. The boy who looked at the wreck he really was and didn't step away.

It was a bigger relief than he ever considered it would be. To have someone to share his insecurities and worries with- Even if Minho did not dare explain his knowledge of his past lives, he did what he could to explain his way around them. He knew Hyunjin knew that he was holding something back, and he even knew that Hyunjin knew he knew, but there was a mutual respect of never crossing that line. Both knew it was an impossible one, even if the younger did not understand why.

Minho still modeled for Hyunjin from time to time, which was punctured with laughter. Minho really was that bad, according to Hyunjin, and he had to admit, looking at the pictures was beyond embarrassing.

"Ah, why does my face do that~" He whined, pressing Hyunjin's cold hands to his flushed cheeks. Hyunjin laughed brightly.

"It's okay, I think it's endearing, Minnie hyung!" He laid a sloppy, slobbery kiss on Minho's cheek and the older made a face, wrapping an arm around Hyunjin's neck and pulling him down, "Agh! Hyung, what are you doing?"

"Payback. My cheek is all wet with your saliva- Gross," Minho complained, holding the boy tighter. It wasn't anything that could hurt the brunet, but it was enough to make him terribly uncomfortable with the way his back had to bend, and it was more than satisfying for the older. After a good few minutes of bitching, moaning, and flailing arms, Minho released his prisoner, leaning back on his hands and grinning with amusement at Hyunjin desperately tried to fix his mussed up hair. When they made eye contact, the teen's pouting anger quickly turned to happy affection and he leaned forward, pecking the older's lips. Minho pulled him into his arms gently this time, and they spent the whole of the afternoon watching terrible romance dramas.

Of course, only months later would things fall apart.

Because Minho's homophobic parents (It gave him a terrible feeling of Chan) had caught him kissing Hyunjin one evening and immediately ratted them out to Hyunjin's parents, who apparently were even more homophobic than Hyunjin had given them credit for.

"A gay conversion camp?" Minho whispered. Hyunjin had snuck out of his house and into Minho's room, where the two were cuddling under the boy's blankets, "Really, Jinnie?"

"Really. I leave in two days," The younger was trembling in his arms, and never before had Minho seen him look so vulnerable. Despite being the older in their relationship, he was always the sensitive, emotional one. He was the one who was always like a live wire, taking only a single touch spark something. Hyunjin had always just been...Strong. Playful. Sassy, confident, and humble when it really came down to it (No matter how much he joked, the boy really did not take compliments well). It was a side that Minho had known was there, but he had never been made to experience. He tightened his grip slightly, running soothing fingers through the younger's hair as he pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead. Hyunjin's body twitched with a barely-concealed sob, "I'm scared, Minnie hyung. I love you. I'm scared."

"I know babe. I know. I love you too, more than you could ever know," This time, Minho pressed a kiss to each tightly-closed eyelid, tasting the salted tears on his lips. For the year and a half they had known each other, Hyunjin had never cried in front of him, and he almost seemed to resent himself for it, moaning quietly as he scrubbed at his eyes. He looked at Minho with a familiar teasing look in his eyes, but something in there was not quite right.

"If only you'd done as well at hiding me as you did your emotions," Hyunjin's voice cracked with emotion, and Minho felt his heart break.

Hyunjin returned from the camp months later- It had been summer, after all. Minho waited anxiously at the predetermined cafe they had chosen before Hyunjin was taken away, repeating the same cycle of looking at his phone, scrolling through it aimlessly, looking up, putting it down, and looking at it again. Hyunjin had promised that no matter what happened at that camp, he would never leave Minho, and so he waited- A bitter, burnt coffee waiting with him. The man bounced his leg impatiently until finally a familiar face appeared on the sidewalk. He did not stand as Hyunjin approached him, taking in the way his shoulders seemed to be collapsing under the weight of the world and the sound of his dragging feet.

"Hyunjinnie," Minho spoke the name carefully.

"Hyung, I was wrong," Hyunjin's voice was one-noted, flat and exhausted in a way that was so distinctly not him it could have made Minho scream. Still, the older felt like the world had stopped spinning at the words, and already he was shaking his head, "We are wrong. Being gay isn't normal- It's wrong. It's bad. I was, I just, I didn't realize how bad my childhood was. It's all because of that. I just wanted someone to fill that space."

"Hyunjin, stop," He tightened his fists, "Look at me."

"It's all wrong. You- You need to find help, hyung. I think you're a good person deep down. Find help, okay?" Minho wanted nothing more than to stop the younger from speaking, because the words he was hearing were pure poison and nothing that his Hyunjin would ever say, "My parents were right when they said it was unnatural. Okay? So we can't meet anymore. We did something disgusting, hyung, I can't be near you. Do you understand?"

"That's enough, babe. It's enough," Minho soothed, reaching to grab the boy's hand where it rested on the table. The moment their skin made contact, Hyunjin yanked it back as though he had been touched with fire. Finally, their eyes met, and Minho realized in that instant that he had lost the Hyunjin he knew. There was nothing playful or confident or creative in those hooded eyes. It was like everything that made his boyfriend him was gone, replaced by a self-loathing that made Minho physically ill.

"Don't call me that, hyung. Don't you get it? The world hates people like you. I mean it. Find help," Hyunjin stood abruptly, turning and walking back the way he came.

Minho did not call out to him.

Minho's fifth life ended at age ninety from acute pneumonia. He had never taken on another serious partner after Hwang Hyunjin, instead moving to Sweden where he adopted a son and raised him alone. Minho lived the remainder of his long life with the knowledge that the boy he had fallen in love with no longer loved himself.

Chapter Text

The sixth time Lee Minho fell in love, he never knew how truly disappointed one person could make you feel.

After his experience with Hyunjin, Minho had to make a decision- Will you keep living with that bitterness in your heart, or will you move on? Something told him that Hyunjin, and Jisung, and Changbin, Woojin, and Chan would have all wanted him to move on. To not hold onto the things that made him sad, and to try and find something to live for in each life rather than fall into the endless spiral of darkness (I will not hate myself like Hyunjin). He thought that, perhaps instead of trying to forget that these people and these lives had existed, maybe he could try better to learn from them.

With that in mind, Minho had made a list of things he wanted to do in his sixth life. Inspired by Woojin hyung, he wanted to follow his passion of dancing that had followed him all this time. Inspired by Jinnie, he wanted to be open about his identity and offer support to anyone who felt like they couldn't be proud. Inspired by Jisung, he wanted to start a club in either high school or college for students who were struggling with suicidal thoughts. Inspired by Chan, he wanted to do nothing but put forward his best effort and accept what came as a result. And inspired by Changbinnie, he always wanted to stand his ground. Some were things he could tick off like a checklist, but others were just philosophies that Minho would have to live by each and every day. It was not always easy, and his choice to live his truths did not always land him in the best positions.

By age twenty-one, he was completely shunned by his family and living in a shitty apartment, juggling being a fulltime university student and working at a dance studio to make ends meet. He didn't mind it, really- It wasn't nearly as difficult as his life with Jisung had been (Nothing could compare to the hellish conditions of that factory) and he enjoyed both schooling and his job. Minho was exhausted 25/8, but he knew that there was something better waiting for him on the other side of the hurdle. No matter what, he had to believe that.

When he met his new neighbor, Lee Felix, Minho had believed he found that something better.

Felix was two years younger than him, hardly nineteen and gorgeous and completely endearing with his accented Korean. They first met two weeks after Felix moved in- Minho had noticed his new neighbor, yes, but had been far too busy with school and his work to be able to pay the guy a visit. Perhaps it wasn't quite mannerly, but he had to make money if he wanted to stay in school and, you know, not be evicted from his apartment. So when he finally had a day off, Minho woke up in the morning with the determination to make his new neighbor some sort of meal as both an apology and an olive branch of friendship. Sure, Minho had plenty of friends but most of them were fortunate enough to live on campus and as such, not close enough for him to be willing to walk or spend money on public transportation. He had heard from his landlord that the new tenant was near his age, so it seemed like a pretty perfect plan.

Until Minho realized that none of his five-and-some lifetimes had taught him how to cook that well. After clumsily managing something that looked vaguely like a blueberry tart, the man knocked boldly on his next door neighbor's, well, door, and waited.

Waited.

Waited...

"Well then..." Minho murmured under his breath, bouncing on his feet. He bit his lip but shook his head, knocking again but louder this time. Minho could vaguely hear shuffling and thumps from the other side, which was a better sign than previously, and he made sure that when the door finally opened to show a boy with a sleep-swollen face and a white hoodie that he was smiling.

"Hello...?" Deep, was the first thought in Minho's mind, and honestly the tone of the stranger's voice was a bit startling. Still, he half-shoved the plate with the fresh-baked treat in front of him and took a tentative step forward.

"Hi! I'm your neighbor Minho, we share the fire escape- I was too busy to greet you until now, but I made you breakfast?" It seemed to take the brunet a few moments to pick through the words, eyes squinting and head tilted as he mouthed the sentences to himself, but suddenly his chapped lips pulled into a bright smile and it was like Minho saw all the stars in the universe in that boy's eyes as he clapped his hands together. He took a step back and to the side, inclining his head to motion for Minho to come inside.

"Really? Thank you!" Minho had to force back a laugh, because at the sight and scent of food his neighbor seemed to have lost all sense of sleepiness that he had once held, now bouncing on his feet as he hopped through the boxes that were all in various stages of being unpacked. It was painfully relatable (Even two years after moving into his own apartment, Minho had not unpacked each box that he had brought and he highly doubted he ever would) and as such he reassured this Lee Felix that he did not mind the mess. Over the shared blueberry tart (That tasted slightly too much of lemon zest and not enough blueberry), Minho learned that Felix was an Australian-born Korean who loved to dance, eat, and had a talent with beatboxing. His friends often tried to get him to rap but he was too embarrassed to try, and he had both an older and a younger sister. Felix liked fall, winter, soccer, and shopping.

Minho, on the other hand, liked Felix a lot. The teenager was happy, personable, warm-hearted beyond belief, and his slight obsession with American theater and Ariana Grande was amusing and frankly, same. He liked his freckles and his uniquely shaped eyes, his deep accented Korean and the way he seemed to collapse on himself in embarrassment but playfully so. Felix was humorous and energetic but his sincerity simply could not be matched. It was stunning how much the younger boy cared about everyone, and it almost made you feel regretful. He was a boy who always gave everything and showed everyone consideration. Minho liked it. He liked everything about Felix.

He especially liked the way they met on the fire escape in response to the desperate meowing one evening.

"Is that a cat?" Felix asked excitedly, their eyes meeting from opposite ends in the dark. Minho hushed him with a twinkling smile, motioning for the younger to stay put as he took out his phone, turning on the flashlight to get a better look. Lo and behold, a brownish-grey cat with black stripes and white paws was curled up on the fire escape, and when the light shone on them, the kitty meowed pathetically- Minho felt his heart snap and Felix was by the cat's side in an instant. Minho knelt by the two and rubbed his fingers where the cat's whiskers sprouted, smiling at the cute creature.

"Poor thing is probably hungry, so dirty and there's no tags..." He murmured, and Felix looked at the cat who had moved to curl up in his lap with teary eyes.

"Hyung, we can't leave her here," He whined just slightly, running his hands over the dirt-covered fur without care. Minho chewed the inside of his cheek- The apartment building had a strict no-pet policy, and he tried to generally not get himself kicked out of his home. However, there was a cat involved this time, and that paired with Felix's teary eyes and thick voice were really game changers. He rocked on his heels even in his squatting position, thinking carefully of how to best handle the situation, "Minho hyung, seriously!"

"I know 'Lix, I know," Minho assured him quickly, patting the younger's head, "How about this? We bring her into my apartment for a bath and we'll check if she's really a she, first off. While I bathe her you can run to the grocery store? They'll definitely have some pet food there, but don't get any of that fancy stuff you see on TV, it's like junk food for them. You should get something that has natural colors, like brown and blue, those normally are better. Get a few kinds because we don't know what she will or won't eat- Oh, don't pay for it yourself. Take my wallet, I got paid yesterday and I mean, I was going to buy myself a new album but this cat is way more important."

As he rambled on, the two made their way into Minho's apartment, the cat purring comfortably in Felix's thin arms, but the Australian boy stopped short at the mention of taking the older's wallet.

"Minho hyung, I can't spend your money!" He denied immediately, but the other narrowed his eyes.

"You don't have your wallet on you, right? So just take mine, we can't waste time on getting this baby fed! C'mon, let's get her to my bathroom so you can go."

And just like that, the two boys now had a regular guest living on their fire escape. The cat had in fact been a girl, and Felix had happily named her Veronica after a character from some American musical. If it wasn't for Minho's third life where he was born and raised in L.A., he definitely would not have been able to pronounce it, but as it was he certainly shocked Felix when he got it right. The cat played during the day and came to them for food in the mornings and night- They were definitely unofficial parents. And technically they didn't own a pet- A stray whom they absolutely did not adopt just happened to show up and walk in through their windows whenever she felt like. You know, as cats did.

When Minho questioned the origins Veronica the cat's name, Felix had gotten that pleased look on his face that he did whenever musicals were brought up and launched into a whole plot explanation of Heathers- From what Minho understood through the energetic rambling in a mix of Korean and Australian-accented English (He had the feeling that the teenager hadn't even realized the moments he slipped into his native language), the musical was about Veronica who accidentally got mixed up in poisoning one of the most popular girls at school and was convinced by a guy named JD to stage it as a suicide. Resultantly, they decided to get rid of the school's bullying elite through murder. Minho didn't really get it, but he had to admit that Dead Girl Walking (Reprise) was a fantastic background track for kissing Felix for the first time.

If you could call it that, anyway. It wasn't full lip-on-lip contact in any sense of the term. Instead, the two had been listening to the soundtrack in Felix's bedroom with Veronica sleeping on the younger's chest and Minho laying on his side. He observed the artful splash of freckles, the double-lidded eyes, the way he seemed so comfortable...Minho leaned forward as the lyrics grew in intensity, gently placing a kiss on the corner of Felix's rose-pink lips as musical-Veronica sang I wish your dad were good, I wish grown-ups understood, I wish we'd met before they convinced you life is war- I wish you'd come with me-

And Felix turned with that tingle-inducing smile as JD replied I wish I had more TNT.

Their relationship was never truly defined, Minho supposed. Their friendship that had grown over the course of a year and a half was only changed by the way Minho planted kisses on the corners of Felix's lips, and the way Felix was always asking for the older to sleep in his bed (Or to sleep in Minho's bed- It depended on whose apartment they were staying in). It was like a door had been opened, a line had been crossed, but neither really knew quite what the other side meant or where it would lead to in the future. But Minho did not mind in the slightest. Being in love with Lee Felix was like being in love with the embodiment of warm friendliness, constantly wrapped up in fuzzy feelings and always feeling like someone cared. Felix was all sharp angles and fluffy hair when Minho held him in his arms, but it was so very fitting. Felix was honestly one of the best things that had happened to Minho in his sixth life.

"Happy birthday Minho hyung!" Felix cheered loudly, pulling a confetti popper as the older walked into his apartment after an exhausting day of studying and work at the studio. In front of him on the table was a small but beautifully decorated cake. His apartment was covered in streamers and paper lanterns of all colors, and Veronica was casually staring at him from her place on his windowsill, licking a single paw that looked like might have touched the edge of the cake. Minho closed the door behind him, blinking slowly as he took in the general scene and Felix's anxious but enthusiastic body language. No matter how Minho looked at it...Not once in his lives had anyone ever done something like that for him. In the times with Chan, birthdays were not celebrated. Woojin always celebrated with something small and hardly out of the ordinary- It was his style. Changbin hadn't even lasted to his birthday, and when he knew Jisung, there was not enough money for that sort of thing. Hyunjin had attempted to plan something but had gotten sick, and in the end they never made up the date. His friends through the lifetimes were never that close and the families that cared about him allowed him to decide what to do.

It was enough to bring tears to his eyes, and Minho covered them with his palms. Immediately, Felix was at his side, murmuring a soothing don't cry as he wrapped his thin arms around Minho's body, resting his chin on the older's shoulder. Minho twisted his hands into the younger's sweater, wetting the soft material with tears that hardly made sense to him. Felix was an enigma, someone who made his stomach twist pleasantly and tingle all the way to his toes, and his innate sensitivity bringing a whole new set of feelings Minho had never experienced. It was different and amazing and Minho hardly knew how to describe the sensation.

After what was likely a far-too-long time, Minho raised his head, attempting to sponge away the remnants of his tears. Felix laughed, reaching up to wipe them away with his sweater sleeve. The younger looked curiously at Minho's lips as he did so, almost like he was trying to decipher a puzzle. Almost hesitantly, the boy placed his hand on Minho's jaw, tilting his head down just enough to press their lips together softly. It was delicate, testing even as Felix took control of the kiss- Yet another new experience for Minho, who had either led or fought to lead any kiss he could remember. The older was surprised by the tenderness of it, the welcoming and sweet atmosphere it held. For years to come, he would distinctly remember the taste of Felix's favorite honey chapstick mixed with the melting butter pecan ice cream behind them that he had taken a bite of before Minho's return home.

"I love you, Minho hyung."

"I love you too, 'Lix."

Felix was special, Minho had decided. He did not love him more than any of his other loves in his lives- No, that simply was not possible. Minho knew that he could not compare any of the men, because the romances were all such separate experiences that they were, truly, in completely separate fields. You always heard it being said that love was different for everyone- Minho had learned that it was different for every time.

No, Felix was special as a person. There was something about him that no one could match, and to know that such a boy had decided him worthy enough to be with was amazing to Minho. He found himself trusting Felix with everything, never lying or hiding anything (Sans the rebirth process, as Felix was a dedicated Catholic and had casually mentioned not believing in such a thing in the past due to his faith, though it was a widely contested point), and bearing his soul wide for the younger to do with as he saw fit. And being the pure, kind person that Felix was, he never betrayed this trust and instead returned it in full. Minho came to know everything good and bad that Lee Felix had to offer.

That's what he thought.

It had been late at night, when the young couple walked home with interlaced hands. Animatedly speaking about this and that, new American musicals Felix was obsessed with and dance routines they could try out together. It was natural and normal and so domestic that Minho felt that his smile would never drop, until they walked to their apartment doors and saw the word "faggots" spray painted in black across each of their doors. He felt his heart clench and he looked at Felix, who had gone from speaking loudly to dead silent. The younger stared at the words almost blankly, blinking with a heavy look in his eyes that Minho had never seen before.

"Hey, don't worry about it," Minho tried to reassure, kissing the corner of his mouth the same as always, "It's just some spray paint. We'll apologize to the landlord in the morning and get rid of it, okay?"

Felix remained quiet for a few moments but nodded, anxiously chewing at his bottom lip. His eyes flickered up to Minho's, "Okay. Minho hyung, head into your apartment- I've got to grab a set of clothes from mine, and make sure I didn't lock Veronica in there by accident."

"Alright, 'Lix," He kissed his nose this time, drawing a giggle from the younger as they separated. Minho knew that Felix spent an entirely too long time picking out an outfit for the next day and ensuring Veronica was not hiding in his apartment. He probably just needs time, that stuff is never pleasant, Minho had reasoned with himself. And Felix had returned, smiling and laughing with nothing seemingly out of the ordinary. The only thing Minho had noticed to be a little different was how much clingier the boy had gotten, seemingly attached to his side. He had periods of time like that, and the older never minded, always indulging. Still, it had struck him as odd when Felix's kiss that night was a little more greedy, a little more rough than usual. It left them breathless even as Minho placed his arm over the younger's waist to go to sleep.

When Minho awoke, Felix was gone.

Anything important to the boy from either of their apartments had been taken, from favorite clothes to money to precious keepsakes and the like. There had been numerous things left behind, but nothing of real value. There was hurt and confusion storming inside of Minho as he tried to call the younger, only to find that Felix had blocked his number. An incredulous laugh was tugged from his mouth at that, and Minho sat on the foot of his bed with his head in his hands. Later that afternoon, he would find a note addressed to the Australian shoved hurriedly in a drawer, as though he had wanted it to be found eventually, but not too soon. Minho felt sheer disappointment course through his veins as he read it.

Hey faggot. Looks like you found yourself in the wrong place. You really don't know how to keep your diseased and dirty hands to yourself, do you?

Unless you want something terrible to happen to you, and you know it will, get the fuck out of this town.

Go back to Australia, away from society like you belong.

Watch your fucking back, kid.

Minho had never realized that Lee Felix was such a coward that a letter like that and a little spray paint would be all it took to send him scurrying away.

Minho's sixth life ended at age eighty-seven due to stomach cancer. When his ex-boyfriend Lee Felix fled back to his home country after receiving a threatening, anti-gay letter, he moved out of his longtime apartment building and instead moved in with a friend from university. The two never reconnected, but Minho ended up dating his university friend for the remainder of his life, though the two were never able to marry due to Korean laws.

Chapter Text

The seventh time Lee Minho fell in love, it was with the sunshine.

Curiously enough, the day he had met the sunshine, the sun itself was covered with puffy clouds that allowed soft flakes of snow to flutter through the sky and land on the trees, ground, and everything in-between. It painted a masterfully peaceful portrait, and it brought a smile to Minho's cold lips as he trekked through the snow as it grew darker. The snow always reminded him of Felix- The first time it had snowed in Korea, Minho had been made to play with him in it for hours. It was a fond memory, despite the way things with the love of his sixth life had ended. He still felt a crushing sense of disappointment in his chest when he recalled how Felix had not even attempted to talk things through with him, express his fears, or look for a way together, but at the same time the experience had taught, or rather reminded Minho of an important lesson. Not everyone was brave enough to handle the rejection of society.

Though he would never know for sure, Minho imagined that Felix had returned back to Australia where they were much more open about homosexuality. He sincerely hoped the younger had found a way to be happy there, if his happiness could not be found at Minho's side in Korea. He knew that Felix had loved him, and it was not that their love hadn't been enough. Felix had been struggling in Korea for so long, so suffocated from being everything he was, it really was no surprise that something to simple had sent him over the edge.

No matter what, Minho would not hate Felix for leaving. That was a lifetime ago, and he would always hold their memories close to his heart.

So yes, the snow reminded Minho of Felix, but on that evening the snow would take a new meaning for Minho.

The man had been making his way back home from dropping off soup to his elderly neighbors (Who lived fifteen minutes away by walking on a clear spring day, and closer to half an hour in all of the snow) when his roaming eyes spotted slight movement to the west. Minho had frozen, squinting in the fading light of the evening as he tried to make out the shape. Cautiously, he moved forward, taking slow and careful steps towards the mass. Once he was only a few yards away, a rushed oh! left him as he dove forward to catch a boy with dark hair and thin clothing as he collapsed. Minho looked at the unconscious boy in shock, his skin tinging slightly blue and only surely alive due to the way his breath condensated in the air. Swallowing, Minho looked around for any possible sign of where the boy had come from and why, but there were only the tracks of his dragging bare feet in the snow and he knew that if the man was to live, he had to be warmed immediately.

Minho hefted him on his back, holding the freezing boy whose slack face was so young he almost seemed like a child as tightly as he could. He increased his pace from earlier, thankful he had stumbled upon the stranger closer to the end of his journey home. Minho struggled to open the door to the house, but he did so with an urgency. Mami, his loyal dog of five years barked upon his entry, snuffling the unconscious stranger's hand with concern. She whined and yelped as Minho placed him atop his bed, and he shushed her as he went to removing his extra layers as quickly as he could.

"Hush, Mami, I know girl- Hop up and help warm him, will you?" He patted the space next to the stranger with his free hand, and the large brown dog hopped up in reply, whining as she placed her body close to his and laid her head over his neck. Once Minho had gotten all of his own wet layers off, he immediately set to removing the single white and blue robe from the boy's body (What is he doing out in this weather with just a robe?) and drying him off as quickly and carefully as possible. The boy did not make any noises or stir, and Minho's heart pounded in fear. His eyes darted around as he grabbed the warmest bed clothing he owned, struggling to put them on the limp body, "How did I manage to end up like this?"

Mami barked and jumped off the bed in response, pacing almost anxiously. The brunet grabbed the blanket he always used in winter and wrapped it around the male, holding him close to his chest as he moved him from on top of the bed covers to under them. Tangy saliva filled his mouth as his worry heightened, and he whistled at Mami who had exited to the other room. She came running back, nails tapping loudly on the floor.

"Come back up here and stay with him while I warm up water, okay?"

It was not an easy process, heating up the water, putting it in jars, and wrapping them in cloths before placing them in various locations around the boy's body. Mami laid by the stranger's side loyally, moving occasionally from one side to the other. Minho smiled at the dog, patting her head and kissing the soft fur, "That's a good girl. He'll be alright, don't you think?"

Days. It took days for this strange boy to fully wake up. Even after Minho was certain the danger of him freezing to death or losing a limb was passed, the boy hardly stirred- Whenever he did, his speech was slurred and his eyes struggling to stay open. Minho would feed him whatever sips of hearty soup he could before he fell back into his state of deep sleep. It was panic-inducing and for the next week, he could not find a way to calm himself down. There were many worries- Was the stranger suddenly going to die in his bed and he'd have to retrieve the police and explain the situation? What even was the situation? What kind of person was he- Friendly, or had he accidentally brought a murderer into his home? What would be do when the boy awoke? To calm his nerves, Minho worked on his novels in his bedroom, keeping an eye on the sleeping boy.

Finally, the evening came when the stranger's eyes fluttered open sleepily but they stayed open as he sat up, looking around in confusion. He froze when he met Minho's wide gaze, but he offered a reassuring smile.

"Hey there. Are you finally awake?" The boy's face was contorted in terror and Minho chose not to approach him, instead staying seated by his wooden desk, "You've been unconscious for about a week now. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

He was stared at for a few moments before the boy hesitatingly nodded in return. Relief flooded through Minho's body, "Good, good! My name is Lee Minho. You are?"

"...Kim Seungmin...?" He tested the words on his lips as though he were unsure- A question, certainly. The relief that Minho had felt was washed away with a new wave of concern, and he cleared his throat, gaining Seungmin's attention. He had stared uncertainly at his hands after speaking the name, like they were completely foreign to him and he had little idea of what they were for. He startled at the sound from Minho, eyes wide with panic again. Still, Minho slowly stood, approaching him as nonthreateningly as possible. He took a seat on the far corner of the bed, tilting his head.

"Okay Seungmin. Do you trust me?" Seungmin's eyes narrowed with a perceptiveness that Minho had yet to see, and it set a sharp pang through his chest. Only a moment later, he got his answer.

"Yes."

As it turned out, Seungmin could remember nothing but his name- Not where he hailed from, not his age, the reason he had been wandering in the storm, or anything of his life before waking up in Minho's bedroom. I think I must be younger than you, though, he had said in reply to Minho's questioning on his age. No one in the village recognized him, and Seungmin...He had no where to go, no skills to speak of, and no idea who he was. Who could blame Minho for offering him a place in his home? It was only right, he reasoned with Mami. After all, Minho had been the one to find him and nurse him back to health. He had the duty to see Seungmin's well-being through to the end.

No, it had nothing to do with the way the boy's smile radiated sunshine, or his charmingly chubby left cheek, or the adorably endearing mole that laid upon it. It also had nothing to do with the way Seungmin was a morning person and liked to cook eggs, and he always greeted Minho with a smile when the elder awoke and walked into the kitchen just as he was finished. Those were just the lovely things that came with taking in the strange boy that was Kim Seungmin, and Minho honestly was surprised when he noticed them. He hadn't offered Seungmin a place in his home with any ill intentions, instead having been genuinely concerned about the younger boy who seemingly had no family and no life to return to- Something the younger thanked him for profusely.

"Hyungie, I just want to thank you," Seungmin started, wringing his hands in front of him as he stood in front of Minho's desk. A fond smile appeared on Minho's face and he shook his head in amusement, "No, really! You didn't have to let me into your home- You didn't even have to save me and I, I'm really glad you did! So thank you! Uh...Again."

"I think you say that every day, Seungminnie," He laughed, ruffling the younger's hair. He received a dissatisfied whine in response and Mami hopped up from the corner she had been in, growling playfully as she lightly bit Seungmin's wrist, pulling him to her. Seungmin giggled and tackled her in a hug, and Minho would have been lying if he said his heart wasn't bursting at the seams from the cute scene of the two wrestling on the floor. You would never expect it from such a cute face, but Seungmin was loud even at the best of times, and it was hard not to find it lovable. Minho felt a wave of inspiration as he fazed fondly at the scene, and immediately he turned back to his desk, writing down the words that came to mind as quickly as he could.

"No, Mami, stop!" Seungmin wheezed, his laughter echoing off of the walls of the bedroom. Minho adored his laugh- Truly, when he watched the boy and Mami play, he realized how much the younger reminded him of a puppy. Sweet, curious, energetic, playful, loud- He was all of it and more, and it was the very reason Minho fell in love with him as those cold winter months he had been discovered in turned into spring breezes, and then summer heat. Through the time, Minho watched as Seungmin slowly came out of his shell around others, testing things curiously and at his own slow pace before jumping right in if he felt confident enough.

And if Seungmin knew that he couldn't do something, or wasn't well enough to, he was strong enough to admit that, even if he ended up disappointed. Minho found each and every one of those qualities to be something to admire.

The strange boy he found in the snow that day brought a new energy into his house, filling it with laughter and conversation and sunshine smiles that never failed to bring Minho comfort even in the hardest of days. What Minho liked the most about Seungmin (Aside from the smiles that he just could not get enough of) was the way that the younger always seemed to be be there. He quickly became a constant in Minho's life, because his presence was just so loud. If Minho left the house, Seungmin was by his side. In the rare times where that wasn't true, the younger was on his mind-

Would Seungminnie like this?

Oh, I should ask Seungmin what he needs when I get home.

What did Seungminnie say about that again...?

At first, Minho was not in love with Seungmin. He definitely loved the brunet, and looking at him become comfortable in his new surroundings when he was in such an unsteady place not knowing anything was enough to send pride flushing through him. Every new accomplishment was like his own, and he celebrated them accordingly. He thought nothing of the light blush that adorned the boy's cheeks when he hugged him, or the way he sometimes would become stuttering or nervous around him. No, it didn't strike him as odd at all, and Minho certainly never thought deeper into it. The brunet only knew how much he enjoyed the younger's presence in his life, and how much of a breath of fresh air he was.

He never imagined his own ignorance would push Seungmin to tears one night.

"What's wrong, Seungminnie? Hyungie is sorry for whatever upset you," Minho tried to make the atmosphere slightly playful, hoping it would bring a smile to the younger's lips. It was a failure, to say the least. Minho felt his insides twist into worried knots as Seungmin stayed with his back turned to him, body heaving with sobs and face so clearly wet with tears, even when facing away. He reached out, gently touching the younger's shoulder. Seungmin tugged away immediately, pressing his hands to his face to try and mop up his mess of tears. Seeing him struggle alone was physically painful, and Minho approached him again, wrapping him in a hug from behind, "Seungminnie, just tell me what happened. Did I do something wrong?"

"Pl-please stop touching me," Seungmin gasped out, and his body trembled harder as he shook his head, "You don't mean it th-the way I want you to, so please, stop touch-ing me-"

"...I don't understand," Minho's eyes were cast the floor, but he refused to let go of his friend even as a sense of realization and guilt began to grow heavy in his chest, "What are you talking about?"

"Don't make me say it hyungie!" He cried, fighting against his grip, "You know exactly what I'm saying. I've read your novels, I know that you like boys too, but you don't like me like that and it's not fair for you to keep acting like it! Why do you have to make it so hard? Why?"

Seungmin went limp, and they slid to the floor together. Minho shifted the younger in his arms, tucking his head under his chin and pulling him into his lap. He wrapped his legs around the younger and changed his grip from around his middle to his shoulders, rocking side to side as he shushed the crying boy. Seungmin's sobs were loud (Just like him) and heart-wrenching and Minho wondered how he could have been so blind. His eyes slid shut as he pressed a chaste kiss to the boy's hair- It was wrong, probably, especially when the intensity of the tears increased, but Minho was at a loss. He had never once considered Seungmin romantically, but that did not mean that there wasn't room for those kinds of feelings.

As Minho comforted the boy, he considered the possibility. It was true that most days, he felt that he lived just to see Seungmin's smile and hear his loud voice echo in his house. The younger occupied his thoughts more often than not, and in this lifetime...Minho had lost all his family years ago. Seungmin was the first person he had grown close to in so long. He supposed it felt a little like a mix of his feelings when he was with Woojin hyung and Jisung- That sort of warm affection, and everything the brunet did made him feel a little happier. He was truly the epitome of sunshine, and made getting up in the morning worth it.

By the time Seungmin had cried himself to sleep, Minho was still painfully unsure. In all of his previous lives, he had known when he was in love. It was somehow so obvious to him. But love is different each time...He reasoned with himself as he looked down at the exhausted boy, running a hand over his soft hair with a quirk of a smile.

The next morning, Minho offered to try a relationship.

He fell fast and hard.

There was an even newer and brighter energy that just radiated from Seungmin after that, and it was like Minho could never be in the dark. Those sunshine smiles had become a constant and the younger was always clinging to him even more than before- Always asking if they could cuddle and whining when the answer was no, for Minho was too busy. It was adorable and made Minho's heart beat in a new way. It was like their hearts were in tune, and whereas before everything Seungmin had done before was just cute, it soon became something Minho loved about him.

He loved Seungmin's smile and his chubby left cheek with the mole and the way he liked mornings and cooked eggs. He loved the way the younger seemed eager to always have physical contact one way or another, even if they had never kissed each other before- Just hand holding, hugging, or laying together was more than enough for him. Minho loved such a simple and pure romance. It was even better, because they could go around their village holding hands and hugging and not once would they get a strange look. If there was one thing Minho was thankful for in his seventh life, it was that homosexuality was normal. It was not discriminated against or thought of as all that strange- Just rather uncommon, but it was not something to make a deal of.

Minho could, for once, go around with his lover and not worry about any harm coming to pass.

It was a liberating feeling, and Lee Minho kissed Kim Seungmin for the first time the first winter after he had been found outside of the seamstress' shop. Seungmin had been rambling loudly, endlessly about all of the interestingly patterned fabrics and how much he loved to look at them. His voice was so excited and his smile so bright that Minho had not been able to stop himself from lightly grasping Seungmin's wrist and tug him forward into a gentle kiss. Seungmin did not speak until they were back home, cheeks and ears both bright red as he muttered to Mami about this and that.

That being said, he had decided to steal a quick kiss from Minho later that night, so the elder figured they were even.

During that first winter, the two were laying in bed. Minho's left arm was being used as a pillow for Seungmin, and the other encircled the boy around his waist, pressing Seungmin's back flush to his chest. The two were warm from the shared body heat, especially with Mami at their feet, and Seungmin was pressing lazy kisses on the only bit of skin he could reach- Minho's bare bicep, drawing amused giggles from the older.

"Well, I'd kiss your lips, but they're behind me!" Seungmin defended with a grumble.

"I know Seungminnie~ I love you~" Minho kissed the back of his neck, but suddenly Seungmin perked up.

"Oh, hyungie! I love you too, but there's something I wanted to show you!" The younger was suddenly pulling away from his embrace, and Minho pouted. Seungmin laughed, pattering around the bedroom as he started to pull on outdoor clothes. Minho raised his brow at the younger, and waited for an explanation. When none was received, he rolled his eyes and sat up, running a hand through his hair.

"What are you doing?"

"I have to go get it. I'll be right back, okay? Just wait for me!" Seungmin pulled on his gloves and waved energetically, offering his sunshine-filled smile before kissing a whining Mami's head and leaving the bedroom. He called out as he left the front door, "Stay right there!"

And Minho did. As the time passed, he idly wondered if the younger was playing some sort of joke, and at one point became so comfortable that he slipped into the tight embrace of sleep. When he startled awake, it was dark- Well into the night, and Seungmin had yet to return. It was snowing harshly, and Minho scrambled out of bed, yanking on his clothes as he whistled for Mami to follow him. Panic welled up inside of Minho as he lit a lantern and jogged out of the house, calling Seungmin's name with a desperation he was not sure he had ever felt before.

"Seungmin! Seungminnie, where are you? Come out!" His chest heaved and Mami barked.

Soon enough, the whole town was looking for the missing boy.

But just like that, Kim Seungmin exited Lee Minho's life as quickly as he had entered.

Minho's seventh life ended at age sixty-two, of natural causes. His lover, Kim Seungmin, had gone mysteriously missing one day before a heavy winter storm. Some theorized that he would be found buried under the snow after it all had melted, but by the time spring came, there was no sign of the boy anywhere. Not a single neighboring village reported anyone with his description being spotted. Minho never took another partner. As Lee Minho was a prominent writer in his time, his lover's disappearance was the center of gossip for quite a while, and remains one of South Korea's greatest mysteries to this day.

Chapter Text

The eighth time Lee Minho fell in love, the ending was so tragic he thought he would never breathe again.

If he were to be honest with himself, Minho could never quite let go of Seungmin. It was the torture of never knowing if he had left or had been taken, what the younger had wanted to show him, just who he really was and where he came from that made Minho in his eighth life a rather anxious person. From the time he was a child, he found himself painfully nervous in nearly all situations- Meeting new people, going to new places, even trying on clothes at the mall. Minho was always quiet and nervous and could not make eye contact with anyone. There was one exception to that behavior, however, and that exception was Yang Jeongin.

His next door neighbor and three years younger than him, Jeongin was the only person that made Minho comfortable with himself. The all-consuming anxiety he dealt with on a daily basis was still there, but Jeongin somehow had the ability to make it bearable. They met from a young age and it was honestly rare to see one without the other, even with the difference in grade level. Minho was always seeking Jeongin out, to hold his hand, to share his food, to play with Legos, anything and everything Minho did, he wanted Jeongin involved. The younger happily complied, content with spending his days with his hyung. The two complemented each other well- Minho was anxious but warm, and Jeongin was generally shy but playful and kind. They made up for each other's faults and it really was the cute childhood friendship you always dreamed of having.

Minho knew he was in love by the time he nine, but he wasn't going to say that.

He and Jeongin grew up together, spending weekends at each other's homes and getting into their mothers' makeup just because they could (Minho would never forget the afternoon when he had literally done up Jeongin's entire face with makeup, and their mothers had been so impressed that they had taken photos instead of scolding them). Their friendship was so easy and natural, and Minho felt like with Jeongin by his side, he could face his crushing anxiety (Where did Seungmin go) and survive in that world. It was the first time Minho had ever lived in Busan, and it was quite different from any other place he had lived- The traditional markets did remind him of Jisung and Soonhi, which brought a bittersweet smile to his lips.

Jeongin never made a deal out of Minho's stuttering when he began to mention a name of someone from a past life- Minho assumed the younger thought he was bad with names. With that anxiety had come a reduced brain-to-mouth filter, and as a result, he felt even more anxious. What if I accidentally tell Jeongin about my other lives? Minho wasn't quite so sure what he was afraid of, but something inside of him, something strong and dark and black told him that it was a secret that needed to be kept. Minho's experience was unusual (He would compare it to a glitch in the system), seemingly unique to him solely. If he shared it, he had a feeling that everything would change. But Jeongin never pressed him, and Minho never tried to cover it up. It was just their way.

The first time Minho and Jeongin kissed was when the former was fifteen and the younger was twelve. It had not been planned and honestly Minho always felt kind of dirty when he remembered it, but it was what happened and he couldn't take it back. The duo had been listening to more of the younger's favorite trot songs as Minho did his homework, face tensed with confusion. If there was one thing that he never really learned well, it was math, and it made his anxiety flare up every time he looked at the worksheet filled with problems after problems. Minho chewed on the end of the pencil hard enough to hurt his teeth, missing the way Jeongin had stopped singing along and instead was looking at him with concern. He even managed to miss the way the boy got closer and closer to his face, only realizing when his soft breath hit Minho's cheek as he spoke.

"Hyung, what's wrong? Is it really that hard?" He asked curiously, dark eyes gazing into Minho's with a softness Minho couldn't describe. Still, he did not break eye contact as he nodded slowly, pulling the pencil away from his mouth as he sighed.

"I really don't get it at all..." The oldest admitted, and Jeongin's teeth caught on his bottom lip.

"I'm sorry hyung, I wish I could help," The boy seemed genuinely regretful towards the situation, and a fond smile broke onto Minho's face. He patted the younger's hair affectionately, laughing a little.

"That's alright, Jeonginnie, I'm sure hyung can figure it out," He reassured cheerily, but with a smile that Jeongin could see right through. Minho shivered a bit from the younger's piercing gaze, and was so caught up in his own head that he was shocked still when his lifelong friend suddenly pressed their lips together. It was just that- The soft meeting of their lips, no movement, or anything of the sort. Jeongin pulled back almost immediately, his cheeks flaming red as he rolled off the bed, immediately gathering his things as he stuttered apologies and excuses. Minho remained silent, eyes still wide and jaw hanging open just a bit as the younger bowed with a fluster and slammed his bedroom door shut. The room, which had previously been filled with music, was now dead silent and honestly Minho's lips were tingling but the only phrase that repeated in his mind was what the hell.

His Jeongin, the kid who yeah, he was in love with, but the kid who always complained about romance and whined and pouted and teased Minho more often than not had just kissed him and fled. Minho felt his own cheeks heat up and he dropped his head down, homework completely forgotten. His tongue swiped his lips tentatively- Jeongin had left cocoa butter chapstick behind.

Of course, the kiss had been entirely innocent and there was nothing wrong with it, but Minho still felt like he had taken advantage of the boy who wasn't even a teenager yet- For years to come, Jeongin would argue that he wasn't a child and he knew what he was doing when he decided to kiss him (That's why you ran away right after, right, Jeonginnie?). They both avoided each other for a few weeks after that, Jeongin out of embarrassment and Minho out of self-conflict, but ultimately it was just too unnatural to be apart from each other. It had always been Minho and Jeongin, Jeongin and Minho. To avoid each other was wrong on so many levels, and it was little surprise when the two ended up in the park near their house in the same evening. Minho slowly took the swing next to Jeongin, who refused to look up from the wood chips as he dragged his feet.

"Wait until you're at least a teenager, okay, Jeonginnie?" Minho broke the silence, and the younger looked up quickly in surprise. Minho offered a shy smile, "Until then I'd feel like a cradle robber."

"You're hardly older than me, hyung," Jeongin rolled his eyes, but there was an undeniably bright grin on his lips.

On his thirteenth birthday, the two celebrated with their friends and parents in Jeongin's house. The whole place smelled strongly of chocolate cake, paired with a vanilla scented candle that made you feel right at home. Minho had assisted in decorating the place with confetti-filled balloons, streamers, colorful banners, and the like. It was all the stuff Jeongin would deny loving, and that was how Minho knew it suited the younger perfectly. Jeongin had been beyond excited upon coming home, and had just finished opening all of his gifts (Minho had purchased him a photobook full of puppies, which had the younger so excited that the older knew exactly what he was going to be subjected to when the party was over).

"Jeongin, let's do your cake now, alright?" His mother ran her fingers through his hair despite his loud protests, and Minho laughed, smoothing it out for him.

"That sounds great, Mrs. Yang~ Right, Jeonginnie?" He wrapped his arms around the younger's shoulders, exaggerating his weight as he pulled the younger off the couch with him to the floor. Jeongin groaned, hitting his arms lightly to let him up.

"Yes, yes, fine!" Jeongin gasped, glaring lightly when Minho finally let him up. He shrugged with a careless grin, and tugged the now-teenager to his dining room. He sat Jeongin down at the head of the table and stood by his side, helping pass out plates and plastic forks to all the guests in attendance. The birthday boy leaned into his side and Minho patted his shoulder comfortingly, knowing how tired he was. He had been having trouble sleeping recently, and Minho hoped that perhaps the energy of the party would be enough to put him to sleep despite the troubles. The two exchanged smiles as the cake was placed in front of him.

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you~" Minho made sure to sing quieter than the others, anxiety nipping at his insides again. He felt a soothing hand take his own under the table, and met Jeongin's dark eyes.

"Blow out the candles!" Minho's mother clapped, and they broke the eye contact, Jeongin's eyes squeezing shut as he thought for a few moments. He blew out all thirteen candles and seemed to glow under the cheering and praises. He squeezed Minho's hand again before jumping up to help dole out the sweet treat. Jeongin pushed Minho into the seat to his right, ever-mindful of his best friend's left-handedness.

Later that night, after only Minho remained at the Yang's house and the two boys had poured over every single photo in the dog book the older had gifted, Jeongin suddenly went quiet and chewed on his lip.

"Hey, Jeonginnie?" Minho asked, grasping the younger's hand, "What did you wish for?"

A smile broke out on the boy's face, showing up the braces he had gotten in the past few months, "I wished for hyung to become my boyfriend."

"...Oh."

Jeongin stared at him expectantly.

"Of course I will, Jeonginnie. I just said you had to wait until you were a teenager, didn't I?"

Minho and Jeongin's newfound relationship did not come as a shock to literally anybody in their lives- It was one-hundred percent expected, and the older's parents had even exchanged money from some sort of bet on the whole thing. It was embarrassing, to say the least, but Minho loved cuddling with Jeongin and knowing that instead of a platonic thing, it was something with meaning behind it. His heart pounded when he saw the younger smile at him with those braces and their hands fit together nearly perfectly. Minho especially loved to treat him to meals, because Jeongin loved food and always got so excited over eating at new places. It was terribly endearing and everything about his best friend just felt right.

The summer after they got together, Jeongin decided to attend a four-week long camp, which predictably left Minho feeling quite lonely.

"Do you really have to go?" Minho whined as he cuddled the younger close to his chest. Jeongin was curled up and facing him, but his gaze was on his phone rather than the elder (Rude). Still, he rolled his eyes and nodded, running his tongue over his lips as he thought.

"It's only for a few weeks, hyung. I really want to see what it's like- Plus, my parents tell me we spend too much time together. They're always complaining, "He's your boyfriend but you were always together before that too! How will you act when he goes to college?" Ah, so annoying~" He himself complained, yawning as he locked his phone and placed his face in the crook of Minho's neck, "It'll be fun, and besides, aren't you starting with that dance group soon? So we're even. It's good for us to explore our own individual interests!"

"You definitely read that from a relationship magazine," Minho dead-panned, and Jeongin blushed, flicking Minho's arm. He snickered, laying a kiss gently on the boy's fluffy hair. It was truthfully a strange few weeks without him around, but the nightly phone calls really helped soothe Minho's anxiety. Jeongin was a source of strength for him, always giving him the extra courage he needed to face new things. Without his dear boyfriend by his side, he felt an empty space and thoughts of his past lives occupied his mind quite a bit. Minho even took to sketching (Rather poor) drawings of his favorite places from each lifetime in a sketchbook (The view from Chan's farm, Woojin hyung's living room, the ice cream shoppe he frequented with Changbin, the bedroom he shared with Jisung, Hyunjin's front yard, the view from the fire escape he shared with Felix which featured Veronica, and the forest where he had found Seungmin). He knew that it was not helping him deal with all the emotions that each of those people brought him, but Minho...He just didn't know how else to cope with the anxiety, even if seeing those poorly-sketched places made it all the worse.

But Jeongin did return and Minho immediately had trapped him into an hours-long cuddling session. He had stayed up the previous night, unable to fall asleep in fear of nightmares, and so Minho had fallen asleep fairly quickly. By the time he awoke, the younger was still there, but this time reading a book that he did not recognize. Minho rubbed his cheek against the boy's head and Jeongin giggled, placing his bookmark in and rubbing his sock-covered feet against Minho's bare ones, "Yes hyung?"

"Whatcha reading?" He asked sleepily, yawning and pressing a kiss to the shell of Jeongin's ear.

"Oh, it's a really awesome book I found at the camp. I liked it so much that the counselors let me take it- It's totally my favorite book," Minho made a vague sound as he circled his thumb lazily on Jeongin's hip, urging him to continue. His eyes were still heavy with sleep, and his ears buzzed slightly but he still did his best to listen to what his boyfriend was saying, "I actually only picked it up because the author has your same name, hyung- It's Lee Minho's 'A Hand That Held: A Memoir of Korean Life in Japan.' It's about this guy, Lee Minho, who lived in the Korean slums in Osaka during the nineteen-thirties. He was married with a kid but he was actually bisexual and was together with his friend that lived in his house. The whole thing is really tragic though, because that friend, Han Jisung, got into an accident at the factory and couldn't work anymore- He ended up committing suicide. Isn't that so terrible? I can't even imagine living through that all..."

It was like Minho's world had come crashing down around him, and the pleasantly warm buzzing in his ears became a piercing ring that sent shivers up his back. There's no way. His heart stopped and his throat went dry, and he ignored Jeongin's confused noise as he grabbed the book and read the back, eyes wide.

"I, uh, need to use the bathroom," Minho choked out, and immediately removed himself from the bed, falling into the wall the moment the door closed behind him. Jongsu published my memoir? My memoir is in this lifetime, this world? He could hardly fathom such a thing, and he trembled, shaking his head. Never before had his past lives intersected like this- Was that even possible? Was this the future of his fourth life? Had he really been reborn into the same world again? His head and his heart hurt, but he swallowed all of his feelings back. He stood on unsteady feet, flushing the toilet so as to not cause suspicion. Minho splashed cold water on his face and dried it, trying to smile at himself in the mirror. This is now and that was then. Focus on today, not yesterday.

When he returned to the bedroom, Jeongin was sitting up in the bed, tapping his fingers on the bedsheets. He looked up worriedly when the elder entered, and Minho felt his suddenly-frosted heart warm slightly at the pure concern and care in those eyes.

"Sorry, Jeonginnie, I kinda had like a half-awake nightmare thing there, you know?" He laughed, and realized with a start he was reverting back to the lying and acting techniques he had used in his lifetime with Hyunjin, "I got freaked out and needed a second. So, that book? You said it was your favorite?"

If Jeongin noticed anything different, he didn't mention it.

The second time the two kissed, Jeongin was fourteen and his braces cut Minho's lip.

It was truly a funny thing. Minho had taken the teenager out to buy oversized cupcakes in celebration of passing the science test Jeongin was convinced he would fail, and they had been feasting on the delicious treats when Minho noticed a bit of orange vanilla frosting on his bottom lip. The younger had stubbornly refused to share even a bite of the sweet, and as such when Minho saw his opportunity, he took it. He leaned forward and swiped the bit of frosting off with his thumb, instantly freezing Jeongin as he cheerily stuck it in his mouth (The frosting really was yummy, but he had to admit, his boyfriend's reaction was sweeter). He raised a brow at the gaping boy and sipped at his boba tea.

"Something wrong, Jeongin?"

"I- That was totally an indirect kiss!" He spluttered, almost as though he was offended. Minho shrugged with a smirk.

"What? Would you rather it have been a direct one?"

"Well, duh!" Jeongin pouted, crossing his arms. His cheeks were red but he pressed forward, "We haven't kissed since that time I kissed you when I was twelve. That was, like, two years ago and as your boyfriend, I am totally crying foul."

"Aw, I just don't want to poison my precious Jeonginnie~ Once you kiss, you never want to stop. You should stay pure," He teased with twinkling eyes, but Jeongin continued to glare at him. Minho rolled his eyes at the dramatics, popping the last of his chocolate almond cupcake in his mouth. He licked the remaining frosting off his lips, tilting his head, "You know, if you wanted to kiss me that badly, you could have just done it."

"That's different," He denied, "I wanted you to kiss me."

"Well, that I can do," Minho smiled at the boy, who really seemed to be stuck on the whole idea, "Now or later?"

"Now!" He insisted with a bright grin, and Minho sighed playfully, leaning forward and placing a hand on the boy's cheek to help lead him forward. He pressed their lips together, and Minho would tease Jeongin's little sigh for months to come. It was unsure on the younger's part, but eager all the same, and Minho laughed into the kiss- Jeongin naturally followed suit, but in that moment the elder's lip caught on the braces and immediately, they both tasted blood. Minho sat back with an incredulous laugh as he tapped a finger on his stinging lip, and Jeongin's face was twisted in horror, "Oh my god hyung, I'm so sorry!"

Minho had laughing fits for hours after, to which Jeongin would blush as he knew exactly what his boyfriend as laughing about, and hid his head in his arms. The younger couple was teased about Minho's busted lip for the remainder of their relationship. Everything was going well- Really well. They rarely fought and Minho had learned to mostly control his anxiety. They did not have to be attached at the hip and their relationship was what their friends referred to as "goals." But the last time Minho saw Jeongin was a fall night as the younger left his house. Jeongin was fifteen and Minho eighteen, and the former and his parents had moved from their old neighborhood months before. The two were no longer neighbors, and so they did not have sleepovers as often. That night, Jeongin had been over since the school day had ended, and it was about nine-thirty at night when he slipped on his shoes to head out.

"Are you sure you don't want me to walk you?" Minho asked, but Jeongin shook his head with a soft smile.

"I'm alright hyung- It really sounds like you're getting sick, so just take some medicine and go to bed, okay? I'll see you tomorrow," Jeongin placed a careful kiss on Minho's cheek, "Sorry, I don't wanna get sick, I've got too many projects. I love you hyung, sleep well tonight~"

"Ah, what a brat~" Minho laughed before coughing- He really was getting sick, "I love you too Jeonginnie. Get home safe, okay?"

With that, he pulled Jeongin into a tight hug and set him on his way, patting his butt teasingly as he walked out. The younger stuck his tongue out in response and Minho watched fondly from his doorway as the teenager walked down the moonlit street. For the rest of Minho's life, he would never forget that moment- Where he just let Jeongin go, admired his beauty from afar with a warm feeling in his heart. He would be able to recall the way the street looked, the way the cool wind mussed up Jeongin's hair, and how his soft laugh in response floated to Minho's ears as he walked away.

Minho was bedridden the next day with a fever. Jeongin did not come to visit him, but he was much too out of it to ask or even wonder. The day after, his mother came into his bedroom to check on him, and he was much more lucid than the previous day. She was biting her lip as she sat on the edge of his bed, checking his temperature.

"Minho, you haven't heard from Jeongin, have you?" She asked casually. Had Minho not been so ill, perhaps he would have thought more of it.

"No, I haven't, actually-" He cut himself off with a serious of rough, congested coughs, and his mother did not bring it back up. The next day, his world fell apart. Minho had moved to the downstairs living room where he sat with his parents, a bowl of soup long forgotten as they watched the news. Nothing was particularly interesting to him, and he was half-asleep when the news came.

"Breaking! It seems the School Serial Killer had claimed his sixth victim in nine months! The body of fifteen-year-old Yang Jeongin was found in a burlap bag on school grounds this evening after school was let out by staff members. We will bring more information to you as it becomes available."

Oh, Minho had heard about the School Serial Killer- Back in his sixth life. His reign of terror over South Korea was so great that it had been studied by all manners of people. After all, he had been a serial killer back in the fifties. In this hell of an eighth lifetime, that clearly was untrue. Minho had done a paper on the killer, and he intimately knew the details of how he killed his victims- The way he cut the nerve endings in their fingers and hands, pried their teeth out with pliers, and deprived them of oxygen just long enough that they would pass out. How when they awoke again, he would take his time to slowly carve his symbol (That God-damned lotus flower) all over their body. Of course, this was all done while the victims were bound with wires, and it would only end when, in the height of their pain, he snapped their necks. Then he would dismember the corpses, put them into burlap sacks, and leave them at their school- As every single victim was a student.

The knowledge was enough to have Minho vomiting all over himself as his mother gasped in shock and his father attempted to contact Jeongin's parents.

Minho realized the hell of an Earth he was living on.

And he wanted to leave.

To please just...

Start again.

Minho's eighth life ended at twenty-two years old in a drunk driving accident. After the murder of his longtime boyfriend, Yang Jeongin, at the hands of the infamous School Serial Killer, Lee Minho dropped out of school and retreated completely from the world. He ended up becoming a heavy alcoholic and was the cause of the accident that claimed his life. Luckily, he was the only casualty.

Chapter Text

part i.

The ninth time Lee Minho fell in love, it was with an idea.

Truly, in this life, he was disappointed with himself- With his downward spiral. What happened to Jeongin was tragic and horrifying and should never have happened, but it did. Minho could not change that one fact. He could not change the fact that Yang Jeongin, with his braces and love for trot and terrible kissing skills, was murdered. Instead of accepting that, he had decided to quit and give up on everything. To waste his life away in a spiral of depression and alcohol until he got himself killed much-too-early. Minho started his ninth life with a lack of confidence, because he had suffered so much for so long and he wasn't even sure he could do it anymore.

Why me? Why do I have to remember? Why do I have to keep being reborn?

But he was far too much of a coward to do anything drastic about it, and besides- He was still disappointed in himself. Minho knew that he had so much more to offer than what he was giving. What had he done in all of his lives? The most he had done was become a published author twice- And once was posthumously, only thanks to his son's effort. When had Minho really followed his passions, done what he wanted? In all eight previous lives, he had never done what he really felt like doing, too wrapped up in his losses and trying to tough it out in the worlds he lived in, to fit in the norm. But by the ninth time, after all of that tragedy and pain, Lee Minho knew that he had to do something to satisfy only him. So from a young age, he dedicated himself to dancing.

Dancing.

It made his blood flow and his heart rate accelerate and his lungs hurt and his body tingle with joy. Minho would compare dancing to free-flying in the air- He felt, truly, like he could never come down. Dancing was a beautiful feeling and he was wrapped up in it. Joining dance studios and dance crews, Minho felt like he was finally living a life that was worth it. He wasn't distracted by thoughts of his family potentially hating him, of not being able to make himself fit into a place even with his misshapen pieces- Because dancers were not meant to fit the mold. Minho learned that early on, but he still lacked a lot of confidence. It wasn't something that could just...Disappear. But no matter what, he swore to himself to keep dancing.

Soon enough, his dreams changed when he was chosen as a backup dancer for a huge KPOP boy group- Those moments on stage changed his life.

"I want to perform like that, too..."

And so, Lee Minho ended up as a JYP Entertainment trainee.

He never even imagined what was waiting for him inside of that building. Minho had been left awkwardly in one of the trainee rooms, with a bunch of people he didn't know and his bag in hands. The other trainees had simply given him critical looks (He had heard quite a few whispers of "Just another visual") before going back to what they were doing before the woman whom he had met with introduced him and just...Left him. As though he knew what to do, where everything was, and what was expected for him. Minho bit his lip as he fiddled with the straps of his bags, looking at the ground as he wondered just how he had decided this was a good idea when a boy wearing white shoes with blue stripes stepped into his field of vision. He looked up, surprised, but the eyes that met his startled him even more.

"Hi! Lee Minho, right? I'm Kim Seungmin, I've been training here for a bit. It's nice to meet you!" His sunshine Seungmin's face smiled at him, blindingly so, and Minho felt as though his breath had been stolen from him. What the hell, what in the actual hell- Though Seungmin clearly had no idea the sort of dark, wild panic that was going on inside of him, he gave the new trainee an empathetic shrug, "It's hard when they just leave you here, right? Come on, I can help you out! Just follow me and I can show you where to put your bag-"

Minho followed numbly, an indescribable mix of emotions filling him to the brim- He faintly wondered if he would explode. There was an undeniable flood of happiness and love, but beyond that there was longing, shock, confusion, hurt, and so much more that he could not name. Seungmin was chattering animatedly, loudly, just the way Minho remembered. But this time, he wore a casual red T-shirt and grey sweatpants rather than the robes that were typical of the time they lived in together. It suited his simplistic beauty, amazingly so, but Minho could not force the two images to reconcile. It was like something was wrong but right and it sent nausea rolling through his stomach. It took all of the play your part thoughts from his fifth life to not collapse into a pile of frustrated and ecstatic tears right then and there.

"So what are you good at? Singing? Dancing, rapping? Oh, or even acting?" Seungmin asked as he tapped a small locker door, indicating for Minho to put his things in it. It took him a few moments to gain his voice to respond- He acted as though it was because he was busy tucking away his things.

"Um...I dance," Minho replied shortly, awkwardly. Seungmin nodded thoughtfully, giving him an appraising look (Seungmin's eyes narrowed with a perceptiveness that Minho had yet to see, and it set a sharp pang through his chest.) as he tapped his foot. Minho felt his hands trembling and he shoved them in his hoodie pockets, waiting for the other to respond.

"You do seem to have a dancer's build- I guess you must be good to have gotten here!"

"I, uh, was a backup dancer for BTS so I've been told I'm pretty alright at least..." Minho winced at his response- It sounded like he was bragging, and he knew that he was still staring at Seungmin. It was clear the boy did not recognize him the slightest, and before he could respond to the comment, Minho pressed forward with a question of his own- One that had been bothering him for going on his third lifetime, "How old are you?"

"Ah, I was born in two-thousand. Miss Min said you were born in ninety-eight, so I guess that makes you my hyung, right?" Seungmin laughed as he led him back to the practice room. So you were two years younger than me, Minho thought, and it made his chest ache, "But you were a backup dancer for BTS? That's amazing! I'm not really that great of a dancer, I'm actually more of a singer. I guess we probably won't see each other too much, but I still promise to help you out however I can!"

"Thank you, really," Minho bowed lightly, but Seungmin waved his hands with a shake of his head.

"Don't worry about it, hyung. Trainees have to stick together, you know?"

That night, when Minho returned home, he locked himself in the bathroom and turned on the shower. The moment he stripped himself of his sweaty clothes and stepped under the hot spray of the shower, he collapsed to the tile. Minho wrapped his arms around his knees and tried to stifle his cries as much as he could- The sound of the water would only muffle so much. It felt like the weight of the world was on his shoulders again. He felt almost like his veins themselves were burning, acid coursing through them rather than blood. Everything he had come to know had suddenly been shaken- His very foundation. Minho gasped, choking on his own saliva as he leaned his head back to stare at the ceiling. I don't understand, I don't understand...Kim Seungmin, his oh so precious Kim Seungmin from his sixth lifetime was back. But what did back even mean?

Minho's heart pounded strongly in his chest, so much so he really felt it hurt. It could not be a coincidence, the way his name and face matched. Every time Minho closed his eyes, he saw the younger's starry eyes, slightly chubby left cheek with the mole, heard his twinkling laughter and it was tearing him up. He knew he was unique in the sense of recalling his past lives, but never before had he considered anyone he loved being reborn, too. It just felt...Impossible. Too painful, his mind whispered. Because it really was. It was beyond cruel that there was a boy he loved so deeply, so intimately, and that boy only knew his name.

Seungmin had no idea of the way Minho had saved his life. Did not remember the nights they spent together, curled up in the same blankets with Mami, or the days they spent in town- Able to freely hold hands and kiss without any discrimination. It had been so beautiful, so meaningful, but all of those moments...They were nothing to the Kim Seungmin of this life. And he would not hold the answer to the older's biggest question- What happened to you?

Minho would suffer on his own again.

No matter how much he told himself that he would avoid Seungmin, because it was just too much, the younger boy was truly a huge help in getting used to the trainee life. He offered plenty of advice and told him how to take care of himself- Minho may have been dancing for years, and even gone on tour as a backup dancer, but being a trainee at a company was completely different. The intensity, the type of work, it was all new to Minho and Seungmin really taught him what to do. For the first time in so long, he was fortunate enough to see the stars in his eyes, to trace his fingertips along Seungmin's wrist (Under the guise of a dance move, which Minho instantly felt guilty for), to feel that beautiful energy and hear that loud voice resounding in his ears. It was like he had been drawn from the shadows, even as a deeper dark curled inside of his chest cavity, leaving him little room to breathe.

Seungmin could not have been the end of it. Even as Minho smiled from the sidelines as he watched the bright light glow, something larger was looming and he had not properly prepared himself for the storm that Seungmin had only been a taste of.

It was only a small amount of time after Lee Minho joined JYP Entertainment that he found Hwang Hyunjin waiting for him in what was supposed to be an empty practice room. The other trainees had learned rather quickly that Minho was much more than a visual, that he took his dancing seriously and his singing skills were nothing to laugh at, either. So when Minho had taken up the habit of working on his dance in a certain training room, it had become an unspoken rule to not bother him in that time. It was a thing of mutual respect, and so when he walked into the brightly lit room to see a boy's back, he had felt quite...Uncomfortable. Disturbed, almost. He did not have the confidence to tell whoever it was to get out, but...

He cleared his throat slightly, dropping his bag near the door. When the boy turned, Minho felt his heart skip a beat as he recognized puffy, kissable lips and a mole beneath a left eye. This cannot be happening, because it simply was not possible that Hyunjin was looking at him with a small smile and interested look, humming (This stranger seemed not to mind that Minho was clearly struggling and instead hummed, seemingly tilting his head as he considered him.) as he stepped forward.

"Hi! You're definitely the Lee Minho that Seungmin hasn't stopped talking about- I'm Hwang Hyunjin, it's nice to meet you," Just hearing Seungmin's name fall from Hyunjin's lips was enough to send him reeling, and his palms began to sweat. Minho tried to force himself to breathe evenly, to hear what the boy was saying because he had missed that voice so much and it was so strange to look into those eyes without seeing that self-loathing he had the last time they met. This Hyunjin reminded him of the Hyunjin before the camp, so much, in his mannerisms and his humble confidence and the bright lights almost seemed to dim as Minho blinked. As he battled with himself over how to deal with this too unreal, please make it stop situation, the younger spoke and spoke, only pausing when he realized that Minho was just...Staring at him, "Sorry, do I uh, still have food on my face from lunch? I could have sworn I got it all off, just a sec-"

"No, it's just that you look like my ex-boyfriend," The half-truth tumbled effortlessly from his lips, but Minho widened his eyes at what he had done. Of all the excuses to use, Lee Minho! He scolded himself, wrapping a protective arm around his middle as he turned away slightly. Hyunjin had frozen at the comment, lips parted slightly and eyebrows drawn up in surprise. He looked just as Minho recalled, but that was not going to matter in a few moments, because he had just spilled part of his sexuality to someone who he only knew as a stranger in this world, and besides- Last time they had met, Hyunjin had rejected the notion of homosexuality completely. The atmosphere became heavy and awkward, and Minho took a small step back, fully intent on escaping the situation. He did not want to dance anymore- It was overwhelming and sad he could just remember the way Hyunjin had said We did something disgusting, as though love was a terrible thing.

"Don't go!" Hyunjin exclaimed, reaching his hand out slightly. He licked his lips nervously, laughing a small bit, "You just, uh, caught me off-guard. I'm really sorry if my face brought up any bad memories."

"I shouldn't have said that," Minho shook his head, cheeks red but with far more than embarrassment. It was taking all the willpower he knew to not fall to the teen's feet and beg for forgiveness, for not protecting him the way a boyfriend should have, "I'm really sorry."

"No, it's okay, just-" He looked around as though there might have been someone else in the room, leaning closer, "Just be careful who you say that kind of stuff around. Uh, if the wrong person hears it, you might not stay a trainee here much longer, or if you do, it won't be a very good experience...But anyway, you didn't hear a word I said before, right?"

Minho has desperately hoped the conversation would drop, but it was clear that was not the case. His swollen-feeling eyes slid to the ceiling and he took a deep breath, shaking his head. His hands were in his jacket's pockets, and he could feel his own nails begin to pierce his skin. You've done this before. You got through meeting Seungminnie again- Oh God how are they both here- No. Stop. Breathe. Don't act strange. No one can know. Minho forced his eyes to meet Hyunjin's again as the younger repeated what he had said earlier.

"So, I just came to deliver a message, really. Seungmin really seemed impressed by your dance skills, and so there's a hyung that wants to meet you. I think he watched you once during practice- You know, in one of the rooms with the special windows? I'm pretty sure he's going to give you a pretty awesome offer," Hyunjin acted like he knew something Minho didn't, which was likely true. He always does- Did that. Minho sniffled, covering it up like his nose was running due to the cold of the room. Soon enough, the mirrors would be fogged with the heat of his breath and hard work. The condensation would hopefully bring the comfort he needed after the encounter.

"Okay...?"

"Hyung said that if you said yes, he wanted to meet you on the fifth floor evaluation room tomorrow at, like, five. Does that work for you?" The boy fiddled with his sleeve until Minho gave him an affirmative, "Cool, I'll pass the message along! Well, it was nice meeting you- Sorry, you probably already wanted to be dancing, right? I'm actually a dancer, too."

I know. We liked to dance together.

Minho did not speak, and Hyunjin bowed before sliding past him, to the door. He paused, looking back.

"And hey, I'm really glad it was me you spilled that to- About your ex? It could have been to someone much worse, soooo...I promise to keep your secret!"

And he was gone.

And Minho allowed the hot tears to spill over at last, violently ripping his hands out of his jacket pockets and staring at the crimson blood that stained his palms and fingernails. His head was bowed and he shakily met the floor, ignoring how his wounded palms stung and smeared the floor with red. It mixed with the clear teardrops and reminded him nauseatingly of his final moments with Chan- The impact of the memory only worsened the intensity of the sounds that he could hardly believe were hiccuping from him, and he could so clearly taste the salt on his lips. Was Jeongin's favorite novel being my memoir suppose to allude towards this? Was that the preparation, for my worlds blurring together?

Through all of this time, the only thing Minho had been able to cling to was that these lives of his were different, separate. They could not cross over each other- Only he and his memories connected each place. But now, for two of those existences to melt into one...Minho felt so painfully ill. His heart was being pulled in three directions all at once- Towards Seungmin, towards Hyunjin, and as far away from both as them as he could manage. It was hard to describe the crushing feeling. It was suffocating, like the world itself had decided Minho was its enemy and wanted him eliminated.

He knew. He knew that he loved Bang Chan, Kim Woojin, Seo Changbin, Han Jisung, Hwang Hyunjin, Lee Felix, Kim Seungmin, and Yang Jeongin. With each life, he fell in love all over again, but each love was idiosyncratic, completely one-of-a-kind. As he added each new life to his repertoire, he loved every single boy at the same time. His love for Chan was not dulled by his life for Jisung, his love for Felix was not dulled by his love for Jeongin- It simply did not work that way. And for two of them to be in his life at the same time...It almost made him doubt everything. Minho felt like a fake, as though nothing he had felt was genuine. But how can it not be? Those emotions were so powerful, so raw, they could not be lies.

Upon returning home, Minho spotted his mother in the living room and chewed on his lip anxiously, lingering in his bedroom doorway.

"Is there something bothering you, Minho? You seem...Off," His mom looked up from the pile of papers she was going through, and his knees felt weak as he backtracked and collapsed onto the seat across from her. Her brow was raised in concern, but she allowed him time to take calming breaths. Minho felt jittery and ill as he tried to gather his thoughts. Looking outside of the window, the night was dark. No stars could be seen in the sky, but the buildings were glowing with their neon signs. It reminded him of looking outside of his bedroom window in Los Angeles. Finally, he cleared his throat and rushed the question past his lips.

"Can you be in love with more than one person at once?"

It so clearly had not been the question his mother had expected, and she looked appropriately taken aback for a few moments. However, it was fairly obvious that it had not been a question of simple curiosity- It did not take much to put together the bloodshot eyes, the gaunt face, the messy hair and the general aura of hopelessness that Minho had. She pursed her lips.

"I think that love has a very broad definition," His mom started carefully, unsure of where she was headed. Minho could feel her hesitance and his heart sank, "If it feels like love, then it very well could be. But at the same time, it could just be platonic love...Looking at your face, that's not it, is it honey? Oh Minho, really now...I think it's possible, I suppose, but never in quite the same way."

"Right?" His voice was small, and desperate, and he wanted to stop hearing it the moment he spoke, "Even if it's different, it can still be love, right? Is it...Is it bad to love more than one person at a time, Mom?"

"I don't think I can answer that, Minho. No matter what I say, it's an answer you have to find for yourself, isn't it?" Minho looked at his cut-up palms and nodded slowly. He took a deep breath- Filling his lungs with air until they felt sore, and letting it out slowly. In his mind's eye, he saw smoke curling away on the wind and he stood unsteadily, giving his mother a strong hug before retreating to his bedroom. Minho was painfully aware of her sympathetic eyes on his back, and they burned marks into his skin, the skin he imagined to be crisscrossed with scars and marks from the way the world tore at it. If he looked at the surface, almost no marks would be found, but Minho knew that there was another, deeper layer. The scarred remnants of who he really was lurking just beneath, too weak to make a sound. Distant were the days when he did not feel the responsibility he bore.

Minho observed himself in the aged mirror on his door. His lips were cracked and white with dead skin- He could see blood congealed just on the inside from where he had pierced the skin with his canines. A few minor whiteheads dotted his cheeks and nose. The cheeks seemed sunken, and his eyes were ringed darkly. The blue and purple marred the skin underneath, and the unusually pale color that covered the rest of his face did nothing to help the stark contrast. His skin was greasy and bangs stuck to his forehead in an unpleasant manner. Even further, he examined the proportions of his body, the way one shoulder perpetually slanted down more than the other, and how he seemed to be swallowed by his sweatshirt. No matter how Minho tried to look at it...He had not changed all that much. Surely there had been days where he looked the exact same in every previous life- He knew there were. They always came after the people he loved most left them. Never before was the cause of such a ghastly appearance because they had come back into his life.

Because once they left, they never returned.

"What is this for?" Minho whispered to himself as he crawled into the bed. The springs creaked and the disgusting sound made him shudder, "What am I supposed to do when they come back? Why?"

part ii.

Minho walked into the designated room in the evening, exhausted. His whole body seemed to drag and attempt to stay behind him, making each step an honest effort. His whole body ached and Minho wanted to sleep. He could hardly imagine having to go back to practicing after whatever this meeting entailed. The boy hadn't quite known where to find Hyunjin to cancel the meet-up, and he wasn't sure he wanted to see him again so soon. Minho wanted to grab his wrist and press his lips to the younger's cool cheeks- Socially inappropriate for someone who did not know you, he was well-aware. Unable to quite trust himself, Minho hadn't wanted to put himself in that kind of situation and as such, decided to put up with the damned meeting.

When he entered, the man he was meant to meet was already there, back facing him. Upon hearing the door close, however, Bang Chan turned around and met his gaze.

Lee Minho kept on a frosting-sweet smile.

"Hey! I'm Bang Chan- Or Chris, from Australia. Seungmin told me a lot about you and your skills, so I was hoping we could talk a bit. Minho, right?" His voice was light and easy-going, soothing Minho's wrenching heart almost instantly. You still have that effect on me even now.

"Yeah, Minho," They exchanged casual bows and Chan indicated for Minho to sit on the floor. Once the younger was comfortable, he himself sat cross-legged a decent distance away (He kept a respectful distance from his side of the short fence, never daring to step closer to Minho, as though he recognized one wrong move would send the boy running away like a rabbit from a fox.) from Minho. It was a painful relief and reminder of the past all at the same time. Minho kept his fingers wrapped tightly around his knees, and like always Chan seemed to notice as he looked at the white knuckles in slight concern. However, he looked up with his breathtaking smile and didn't mention it.

"So Minho, I got the chance you watch you dance, and I have to say- I really was impressed," The compliment sent warmth running through his body. It was only in his first lifetime that Minho had not danced, and to hear Chan compliment it, even in such a casual dialect that was so unlike what they had known, was beautiful, "Honestly? Your passion is really a great asset, and despite your short training time, I really think you're one of the best dancers the company has."

"Thank you," He murmured, bowing his head. Minho knew his cheeks were flushed with color.

"Listen. I sort of have this trainee-made group. Remember Hyunjin, who you met yesterday? And I know you know Seungmin. They're both part of it," The words had Minho looking back up again in stark interest. By the third time meeting his love from his past life, it was much like the shock factor had worn off. Minho just had to act like he was okay even if he wanted to jump up and run, but the elder's words really had caught his attention. Chan seemed to understand that he had Minho listening and quickly continued, "Besides those two and I, there are five other trainees I picked myself to be part of this group. They're the best of the best male trainees in my opinion, and the dance line could use another member. I was hoping you'd perhaps be willing to join? You would bring the member count up to nine."

"...This is the first time you've met me," Lies. But still, if the trainees were the best of the best...Then Minho certainly did not belong. He knew first-hand how amazingly stylistic Hyunjin's dancing was, and how gorgeous Seungmin's voice. If the other boys were even near that talented, then there was no way Minho could ever fit in. There was no place for him there.

He felt Chan's searching eyes on his collapsed posture, lip caught tightly with sharp teeth, shoulders hunched and refusing to look up again. It only worsened his negative feelings- Minho felt like Chan would tear him wide open, and scoop his insides out until nothing remained. He had a talent for picking people apart piece by piece, working past their every defense without even seeming to try. The elder cleared his throat.

"That may be true, but I think you would really make a great final addition. Will you promise to at least think about it?"

How could Lee Minho ever say no to Bang Chan?

After he had gone back to practicing, however, Minho rolled the number nine over in his head. It felt strange to him, even though he could not quite place why. His mind was so preoccupied with it that he repeatedly made mistakes while dancing, which ended with him sitting in a corner, head on his knees.

"Nine, nine, why does that make me so nervous?" He asked the empty room, and it was like a lightning bolt had struck him. It was his ninth life.

Minho had met three of his past loves.

"You would bring the member count up to nine." That was what Chan had said. Without him, there were eight members, and he had fallen in love eight times before. A slightly-hysterical laugh broke from his lips- There was no way. The world would be playing a cruel joke on him, if it was true. If this supposed trainee-made group was made up of all the boys Minho had fallen in love with over the span of eight lifetimes, he could hardly imagine breathing ever again. But the more he thought about it, the more it made sense to him. The lines are already blurring, and it feels like something big is about to happen. Minho threw the tissue he had been wiping his sweat away with in the trash, grabbed his bag, and stalked out of the practice room. He would know in a week.

During that week, Hyunjin and Seungmin had not stopped visiting him. The first time they two had come together, he had to excuse himself to the restroom because his mind simply could not comprehend it at all. Better get used to it, he thought to himself, because Minho had asked his dance teacher if perhaps a Felix trained at the company, or even a Seo Changbin. She had confirmed that both were trainees at JYP, and so when he got a text from Chan confirming that everyone had gathered and were ready to meet him, he had prepared himself as much as he could have. Walking into that room...

Minho's knees went weak at the sight of Woojin hyung's warm eyes (Minho could taste the older's blood on his tongue), Changbin's small stature (The lack of reply did not shock him, even as Changbin turned around and walked away from him), Jisung's bright smile (When Minho returned home from work three days later to find Jisung with a gun in his hand and blood painting his walls, the only thought he could muster was wondering just where the man had managed to procure one from), Felix's pattern of freckles (When Minho awoke, Felix was gone), and Jeongin.

Still, with that smile that lacked confidence and promised nothing, he stepped forward and introduced himself to the group.

They accepted him into their fold immediately, even if Minho did not feel like he belonged. New memories mixed with old, actions that seemed natural to him would be strange to the others, and Minho hardly was able to keep his mouth clamped shut. His heart was breaking into eight different pieces, leaving none behind for himself. He felt like an intruder, knowing things that they didn't. What sort of dramatic irony is this? He thought to himself as he watched Jisung and Chan together, writing down lyrics. Their hands were nothing like they had been before- Chan's lacked the telltale calluses of a farmer's boy, and Jisung's no longer held the scarring associated with the factory work, or (Thankfully) the remains of his accident. He felt like he was reading a story and had all the information the characters didn't. Not only that, but Minho? He struggled with being in love. No matter how he looked at it, now he found himself constantly surrounded by people who made his heart pound and anguish in unique ways. There were times where it was just so hard to be with them all that he had to leave the room under the guise of some lie or another.

But no matter what, Minho watched. He watched all of the people he had fallen in love with play and laugh together. Sweat and bleed together. Cry and dry their frustrated tears together. He was always watching from the background, because Minho only belonged with them in the past. This...This lifetime was mistake, or a punishment, or something because Minho did not deserve to be with them. He had failed every single person in the group. Not a single one had been able to escape from their relationship with him undamaged- Some had failed to even escape alive. The only common factor in their tragic stories was Lee Minho, and Lee Minho would not allow himself to touch them, to ruin them again. The eight boys deserved to be pure and happy and work for their goal.

Minho would take the suffering that came along with getting to know them again, seeing how as he deserved it.

Because he could remember, and he always would, even if they did not.

It was obvious to the others that he did not really consider himself part of the team, and they frequently tried to remedy it. If only they knew how much it hurt him when Felix insisted on Minho reteaching him that dance move or Jisung asking for his opinion on his rap. How much the pain flared up like Christmas lights inside of him when they invited Minho out to meals together. Minho did not have the damn right to actually enjoy any of it, and so when he selfishly did all of these things they asked of him, he hated himself. He tightened the locks of the prison he was in, keeping them outside and staring through the bars. Minho pushed them further away, and they could not understand.

He wondered to himself nightly if this was his way of making them hate him. If he wanted to hear them say the words he said to himself. If he wanted them to kick him out of the trainee group.

The very notion of them spewing such detesting words dug like a hound's teeth into a rabbit's neck, made him shiver with fear, and Minho distantly thought if that was just what he was going for.

He turned around in his bed and slept, nightmares of guns and buses and beatings and burlap bags and being left behind playing behind his tightly shut eyelids.

part iii.

"So if we all agree, we'll appear on this survival-show type thing together, and have the chance to debut," Chan finished up, clapping his hands together as he surveyed the team. They had been working together as a whole nine-member unit for a number of months now, and it had gone...Fairly well, if one excluded the way Minho seemed to always watch from the background instead of be a part of the team. It had been a major concern to the leader, and he had spoken at length with the 3RACHA members and Woojin about the problem, but the closest thing they could offer to an explanation was that as they had been working together and Minho was the last member, he felt like he didn't belong in the group of friends. None could offer a suitable solution.

Minho could feel Chan's eyes linger on him longer than the others as he tried to judge their reactions. The words had sent fire racing through his veins, because he could do what he wanted for the first time, he could debut, but it had quickly been doused once he realized what that meant. Minho would be with the members, in close quarters, working together even more than before. Sure, he had found it in himself to become Felix's Korean teacher (He found himself hoping the teenager's accent would never fade), and to be the teacher for the group when they learned new choreographies, but only because he was most suited for those jobs. Minho had not done it because he wanted to be closer to them, he had done it out of loyalty.

Around him, the others seemed to have finally processed the offer, and he could hear Jeongin's bright laughter and Jisung's squealing. To his left, Felix was staring straight ahead in shock, expression slowly shifting towards something stunningly happy. It seemed like Minho was the only one not completely into the idea, which Hyunjin was quick to notice.

"Minho hyung, you don't want to...?" He asked, voice strangely unsure. It silenced the room immediately and everyone's gaze turned to him. Under the intensity of their stares, he felt his cheeks flare red. How can I breathe when you're all looking at me?

"...If even a single one of us doesn't want to, I don't think we should," Chan asserted, and Minho looked up in panic. Something akin to anger burst in his chest and he scrambled from his criss-crossed position to his knees, glaring at the leader like he never had before. Jeongin startled at the movement, looking at the dancer with wide eyes as he began to speak.

"How is that even fair? How does that make sense? Just because I'm untalented and useless on this team and don't belong here doesn't mean everyone needs to lose out on their dreams! I'm just one person, so why can't you go with the eight of you? You're all better off without me anyway!" His voice raised with each syllable he spat, fists clenched by his sides as he ranted. Minho's chest heaved as his mind raced through the possibilities. He could not possibly hold them back like that, but to go forward with them? He didn't deserve it. He wasn't good enough and his only talent was getting the people he loved hurt. I don't get to do this.

"Since when aren't you talented?" Changbin asked quietly, his dark eyes piercing Minho's skin, "Why do you think you're here? Because you're pretty? Sorry, but we have Hyunjin for visuals if we really want to look at it like that."

"Hyung isn't useless, he helps me with my Korean!" Felix objected right after, "I still make mistakes but you're always helping me!"

"Listen, Minho, this has been a consistent issue with you," Chan sighed, running a hand through his hair. He looked at Minho with a look that made his heart ache- When had he caused the elder such distress? Why was he looking at him so sadly? His mouth went dry, "I don't know why you act the way you do. With other trainees, you seem fine. You don't seem to have a problem with any of them, but it's like the moment you join with us, something changes in you. Did we do something to make you uncomfortable? Did we do something to hurt you? I asked for you to be a member of this team, and I meant it. The whole friendship-thing comes with that, too. You don't need to think you're lower than any of us. Can't you consider us your friends?"

The speech had been punctured by both verbal and non-verbal agreements from the other members, and Minho caught Woojin's warm smile (When they were side-by-side, he felt as though he could take on the world and Woojin's adoring smile whenever he did anything the elder considered cute had his heart racing) as his breathing became more wet. He shook his head, hardly able to clear his throat.

"I'll hurt you every time I touch you. You don't understand but you will," His voice had taken on a pleading tone, but Seungmin grasped onto his wrist.

"You've done nothing but be kind to us. Even if you let us in and you're not always nice, friends don't always have to be nice to each other!"

"No, you don't get it," He defended weakly, "You really don't."

"I don't want to betray our secret, but if you're worried about that, everything's okay," Hyunjin piped up, causing a few raised brows, "Everyone here is really cool. None of us will judge you for it. And if they do, then, like, I'd have to stop being friends with them."

"It's more than that," Minho insisted, but he could not look up. If he did, he would see the worried expressions of the people he loved. I hurt them acting the way I did, he scolded himself, I hurt them already. I can't get it right, can I? I can't protect them the way I should.

"I'm not sure what Hyunjin hyung is talking about, but I really like you a lot," Jeongin spoke up, and the words made Minho's heart tingle much more than it should have, "You always help me out when I'm having a tough time getting points of choreo. You go through things with me step-by-step until I can get it perfectly. How could you ever be useless to the team? Hyung helps everyone out!"

"Is it us? Is there something about us you don't like?" Finally Jisung spoke up, his eyes trained on the ground in front of him as though he was afraid of the answer. Minho's breath caught at the familiar sight of darkness within the younger, the same sort of darkness that made him kill himself in the past, and his heart cracked just a fraction more.

"...It's the opposite," He whispered, "I told you. I break everything I touch, so I can't touch the things I like."

"I don't know who told you that," Changbin started, "But-"

"Nobody had to. I learned it first-hand."

There was silence until Chan moved.

It was hesitant, but he stood and walked over to Minho. Chan sank down beside the younger boy and offered a hug with a neutral expression- He didn't feel forced one way or another, other than the way his heart so craved the physical contact with the man, and he leaned into it, fingers clenching onto the leader's shirt tightly. He inhaled the scent deeply. It was a mix of plain rice and oranges and just a hint of sweat, so different from what Minho remembered but somehow so suited to Chan's personality and work ethic. Minho listened to the older's heart beating and closed his eyes. While he only saw darkness, he could recall a similar feeling from lifetimes ago and it was soothing. So, so soothing...

Minho battled with his body as he struggled to swallow down his thickened saliva, blinking his wet eyes quickly. I never noticed how they were feeling before, I only thought of myself...The realization was a harsh one- Everything he had done to protect them had only harmed them. It was the irony you always read about, and a bitter smile tugged at his lips at the thought. But even still, he knew what he could do, what he had to do in order to apologize, and to truly do things right. Minho had dreams to chase and he had...Friends by his side.

"Let's do the show," His voice was muffled by the fabric of Chan's shirt, but the words were not lost on anybody in the room. He smiled softly at the cheering from the other members. Woojin and Chan exchanged satisfied looks at that smile, even if Minho did not notice.

Later that night, long after he had returned home, Minho found himself unable to sleep. His mind could not shut down, and he felt the need to do something. He was stuck on the same idea, rolling over in his head. Finally, he sat up and rubbed at his swollen eyes, yawning as he stood up and padded to the light switch by his bedroom door, flipping it on. Minho rifled through a drawer until he found his index cards and a ballpoint pen, sitting cross-legged in front of his bed. He tapped his fingertips as he thought exactly on how to do what he wanted- The way that would help him the best.

Finally, he sucked in a deep breath and carefully pressed the tip of the pen to the front of the index card. In his simple handwriting, he wrote,

' Bang Chan - Farmer's son, loosely neighbor - Beaten to death '

The words burned his eyes to look at, but he flipped the card over, this time writing,

' Bang Chan/Chris Bang - JYP trainee and leader - Alive and well '

Minho slid the card to his left and continued the process.

' Kim Woojin - Famous singer, childhood friend - Hit by bus '

' Kim Woojin - JYP trainee and oldest - Alive and well '

' Seo Changbin - L.A. student, close friend - Sent away '

' Seo Changbin - JYP trainee and Korean student - Alive and well '

' Han Jisung - Factory worker, family friend - Suicide '

' Han Jisung - JYP trainee and rapper - Alive and well '

' Hwang Hyunjin - Photography student, friend - Conversion camp '

' Hwang Hyunjin - JYP trainee and high school student - Alive and well '

' Lee Felix/Felix Lee - Musical enthusiast, neighbor - Ran away '

' Lee Felix/Felix Lee - JYP trainee and dancer - Alive and well '

' Kim Seungmin - Mystery, housemate - Disappeared '

' Kim Seungmin - JYP trainee and high school student - Alive and well '

He found his breath catching and he struggled to write his final card, his hand shaking as he scratched down the characters.

' Yang Jeongin - Student, best friend - Murdered '

' Yang Jeongin - JYP trainee and middle school student - Alive and well '

Minho swallowed as he gathered all of the note cards up in order. The fronts held who his teammates had been in their past lives, who they were no longer, and the backs held who they were in the now. He traced the words with his fingers, mouthing them to himself. It left a weight in his chest but something else had been lifted off of his shoulders, and he felt like he had trapped in his own skin. Having scribed the situation made it seem like it wasn't so hard, as though he had finally shared with someone what he had wanted to for so very long. Minho no longer felt as alone in his ordeal.

"This is what you have to come to terms with," He whispered to himself, eyes never leaving the cards, "This is the truth, this is your reality. It's fine if you can't reconcile the two pieces together, but accept it. Alright Minho? Just be happy you can at least be their friend. You don't have to pick one over the others. Don't pick one. Just love them all as they are now, as your dearest friends."

Every night, before going to bed, Minho would pull the index cards and read each one. Every time, his eyes would tear up a bit and he would wonder how he could manage to keep going, but then their bright smiles and their tears and their laughter and their apparent want for his presence would come to mind and he would find himself putting the cards back. His dreams brought him back to the past, but mostly the pleasant memories, and he found himself waking up with a smile. The days became easier to face.

The difference was astounding. The other trainees had never imagined the playful, humorous, and affectionate boy that was behind Lee Minho's walls. Suddenly, it was as though they had known each other all their lives (Minho would argue to himself that they really had)- He did not hesitate to help someone who was falling behind, to offer suggestions for lyrics changes when 3RACHA was working together, or even to invite the others out with him. It was a whole new side that they had never seen, and Minho had to admit, it was so freeing to be himself around them. To not be held back by his fears and his unworthiness.

Every time he looked at those cards, he knew. He knew that even if he was in love with them, he would never again be able to call any of them his boyfriend or his lover. It would tear him to pieces to decide one was better than the others, and Minho refused to mix memories from the past with memories of the present. Sure, there were moments that were all too similar, but he felt certain that as soon as he allowed himself to act on his feelings, the old memories would become unrecognizable from the new. To Minho, it was unacceptable and instead he chose to embrace being their friend. I can live like this forever, so long as they stay by my side. Besides, he would have had to be blind to not notice the developing relationships between some members.

Felix and Changbin (Two who left you, his mind had supplied somewhat bitterly. Minho pushed the thought away violently) were unbelievably close, the former always hanging on the latter and just...He recognized the intimacy between the two. It was a strange mixture of the same intimacy he had shared with each of them in different lives, and though it stung just a bit too much, he supported them whether they recognized their feelings or not. The same could be said for Seungmin and Jeongin, though Jeongin was certainly more teasing towards the other boy than he ever had been towards Minho. He playfully rejected Seungmin's affections but expressed his own, and it was quite cute to watch. His heart always lifted when he watched them, even if a kernel of jealousy planted itself somewhere.

He would never admit it, because he knew he did not have the place nor the right.

part iv.

The first memorable moment of the show was when they moved in together. Minho's heart pounded anxiously as he chose the room, wondering just who he was going to be rooming with. The whole thing was random and he felt excitement in his fingertips- It was really happening. Debuting together. It made his breath leave his chest in a rush and he flicked the lights of the darkened space on. His eyes found a bunk bed as well as a singular bed, and he froze. Minho hardly contained his laughter as a smile peaked at the corners of his lips.

"Dragon..Ball? Oh, this...Chan," He paced in the small space in the middle, playing with his fingers anxiously. He hadn't shared a room with Chan since his first life, and that had been so long ago. How different would things be this time? And who would the third person be? He didn't have to wait for long- Just moments later, Woojin poked his head in the door and gave Minho a warm smile.

"Hey Minho," He waved as he shut the door behind him with a soft click. Woojin hyung, too? This really is a throwback, isn't it? He wasn't sure if he was more panicked or excited at the thought of sharing a room with him again, but his smile remained for the camera even as Woojin motioned for him to sit on the single bed and he slid into the bottom bunk, "Is this Chan's room? I think that's his figurine..."

"I thought so too," Minho shrugged, "Guess we'll see in a second."

Down the hall, he snorted as he heard Jisung shout Welcome!, and the door to the room opened, revealing none other than Chan. Immediately, the leader burst into laughter and Minho began to yell, jumping up. He looked towards Woojin with a bright smile, a wave of affection washing over him as Chan cheered loudly, even offering a dance of excitement. Woojin unfolded himself from the bottom bunk, pulling them both forward. It was noisy and confusing and perhaps even made Minho a little sick, but he was here. With them. And they were happy to be with him. Anxiety gnawed at him all the same, and Woojin gave him a considering looking, pulling him just a bit closer. The elder's warmth made Minho's body relax and his smile took on a thankful quality.

"The oldest hyungs," Minho whispered. Chan ruffled his hair.

"Let's go see how the other rooms turned out."

(Somewhere along the way, Minho was looking at Chan speaking and when he saw the shave in his eyebrow, his heart stopped (When the other men of the village held him up, Minho could see the deep gash in his eyebrow, dripping the crimson.) and he finally realized why he has always felt so uncomfortable looking at it.)

The next was certainly when they performed Hellevator for the first time. His heart was pounding, mind a blurred mess. Minho stretched his fingers, trying to breathe through his nose as calmly as possible as they waited for JYP to arrive. His eyes anxiously darted around, and Felix stepped his side side, tangling their fingers together. Minho immediately pulled away, shoving his hands underneath his arms as he turned. He tried to ignore the younger's shocked expression. He couldn't deal with the mess of his past lives right then. He just...Couldn't. His nerves were frayed and he was terrified. What if he hated the song? What if Minho messed up while performing? If he made a mistake, it would reflect badly on the whole team.

Those sorts of thoughts plagued him, and of course he failed to sing stably or even meet JYP's gaze during the performance. Even as he complimented the song and criticized the key, Minho couldn't hear a thing through his own buzzing thoughts. Changbin was giving him concerned glances, his stiff and awkward posture obvious even in the sea of nervous boys. Minho wanted to lean into Jisung and cry, to let go of all his worries about the show and his life. But cameras were rolling and instead he just allowed sweat to drip down his face as it burned with heat.

Minho struggled to tune into what JYP was saying, blinking viciously to bring himself back into focus. Eliminations, he's saying something about eliminations-

"Jeongin, Hyunjin, Minho," And his heart dropped further. Himself, he had expected, but how dare JYP threaten the futures of Jeongin and Hyunjin? Two of the most talented and passionate people he knew? He kept his expression blank, "You three are currently the hardest to debut."

A storm of fury overtook Minho as the man ripped into Jeongin's performance- An amateur. As though Jeongin didn't work day and night while being away from his family to get there. Changbin hit his arm softly, giving him a meaningful look before glancing at the cameras that surrounded them- So perhaps Minho was not being as outwardly calm as he thought. Frosting sweet, he reminded himself, trying to soothe his trembling nerves. Hyunjin was being criticized on his pronunciation and distantly Minho wondered, How many times have you rapped before, PD-nim?

"Minho, you only sang one line?" And here it came. The proof that he wasn't worthy of the team no matter what they told him.

"Yes."

"Although you only sang one line, it stands out. And it's not that you did well, that it stands out," Minho wanted to laugh. Wanted to walk out.

None of the members glanced his way.

"Minho, have you tried rapping before? For you, try to do Hyunjin's verse two rap first."

He repeated the lines over and over in his head, mouthing them and moving his hand as he tried to time it to himself. Slowly, his new lines were coming up and he had never felt so frantic before. Jisung rubbed his back as they made eye contact, and a feeling of familiarity washed over him. Distantly, he was reminded of the nights they spent in that breezy room together, their only time alone. Their only time to be them. Minho took a deep breath- Jisung and Changbin are right by my side. With them here, I can do anything. What are you so unconfident for? He swallowed, exchanging nods with Jisung one last time before raising the mic to his lips. At the same time, Jisung's hand reached for his own, initially grabbing his wrist and palm before sliding down to his fingers.

Even still, they fell asleep holding hands yet again- This time, Jisung's long fingers wrapped around his wrist and his palm, and it was again something unique to the boy that made Minho smile.

Minho was hit with the flashback even as he spat out the verse, a sense of gratitude filling him- The younger was timing the beat, and Changbin was providing him backup.

The moment he finished, Minho looked at Jisung who simply focused on his own lines, and he was struck by his beauty in that moment. He's always there for me when I need him. He wanted to cry, because that night had been so touching and important to him. It was one of the nights that he never wanted to forget, and the parallel was uncanny. That had been the same way Jisung had held his hand the first time they kissed.

(Hyunjin liked to take pictures with the staff's camera.)

But he just couldn't stop messing up. Frustrated tears built in his eyes as he, Changbin, and Felix stepped off the stage to line up and wait for the next performance- Felix's whisper of hyung, why did you do that echoing in his mind. Why had he confused the lyrics? Practice had gone perfectly, he had never made that mistake until the moment it mattered. During an elimination round. It was like the weight he had been bearing was finally getting too heavy, his body aching and hardly able to hold him. I don't want to leave them. I want to stay with them. Hadn't he suffered long enough without them all? One by one, Minho had lost these people, yet they had come back to him. But now? Minho was going to be separated from them again.

It was an unbearable thought.

He didn't want it to be the last time he stood with them.

The index cards came to mind and he sniffled, running his palms across his face briefly. Minho's hands came in front of him, tilting his head up so the tears did not run their way down his cheeks, ruining his makeup. His breathing was shaking, and as he tilted his head back down, he caught Changbin's attention. The younger leaned towards him a bit, body language awkward as he spoke.

"It's not the end...It's not the end."

"Why are you freaking out? It's not the end...It's not the end," The younger tightened the hand that was resting on his own knee, but the words felt strangely hollow as they echoed in his mind. With that apathetic expression, Changbin shifted himself into Minho's lap, yanking him into a kiss that too much teeth and tongue and emptiness directed at the world.

Changbin grabbed his hand and the emotions were too overwhelming, a smile breaking on Minho's face as he tried to cover up his tears, leaning closer to the small boy. It had been the end then, and he knew it would be the end now. It's looks like some things never change. Minho did not even bother to truly listen to the words JYP was speaking to him when they all lined back up on stage. Somewhere within him he knew that Felix was still to his left and Changbin was still to his right, even if behind him, but not for much longer as he exchanged bows and a handshake with the man who had just shattered his dreams to pieces. His eyes didn't know where to focus- He was too much of a damn coward to look at the faces of the people he loved. Minho stuck his tongue in his cheek, starting to turn when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

Jisung.

And just like that, his team was surrounding him as he offered the most frosting sweet smile he knew how- But it was broken by bitterness and something so real inside of it. Minho's insides were twisted and felt like they were soaring on air without the rest of him. Pinprick needles stuck in the back of his neck and the base of his skull as he tried to fight off the drowning sensation of losing everything. A laugh broke from Minho's teeth-abused lips when he spotted the mangled expression of Felix's tears. Seungmin's sunshine smile was gone but with warmth still there as a white-sleeve came to give him a brief one-armed hug. When he came face-to-face with Jeongin's version of a frosting sweet smile, he wanted to grab the boy's wrist and run away from the suffocating room.

Jeongin deserved better than to be so sad for someone like him.

The hug was everything like he remembered it being, and they patted each other's backs (The same way they had since they were children. Jeongin would never remember). The tears that he hadn't even realized were making a comeback threatened to spill over as he nodded at the other members over the youngest's shoulder. The boy pulled back, and Minho was met with Felix again- This time, the younger spoke in his strangely deep voice, choked by tears and emotion.

"Don't cry," He moaned as Minho pressed a tissue to the teenager's face.

Immediately, Felix was at his side, murmuring a soothing don't cry as he wrapped his thin arms around Minho's body, resting his chin on the older's shoulder.

"Ah," Minho whimpered slightly, eyes closing with the flashback. It made the moment even more surreal, but in the most negative way possible. He wondered if it was possible to sink to the floor and never move again. His head was starting to ache, and he wasn't sure if it was from the rush of emotions, the lack of water, or the flashbacks that were hitting him almost without end that day. Minho was almost certain his ears popped when Chan approached him, speaking with a forcefully light tone,

"Aigoo aigoo aigoo, why did you get the lyrics wrong, really?" The leader scolded with a wetness staining his own cheeks, betraying his words.

"Aigoo aigoo aigoo, why are you so impatient, really?" Chan scolded softly, his calloused hand running over Minho's dark hair with a loving smile.

"I think I'm crazy," Minho wasn't sure if he was talking about messing up the lyrics or what was going on in his head anymore.

"If only you’d done as well as you did during practice..." Hyunjin's voice sounded from the background.

"If only you'd done as well at hiding me as you did your emotions," Hyunjin's voice cracked with emotion, and Minho felt his heart break.

"When we were rehearsing I thought it was going to be okay," Minho excused as he tried to wildly locate Seungmin again in this mess of body heat and sweat and tears. The younger had his back turned to him, cheeks shining in the harsh stage lighting even with his head bowed down and fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as if it would help. It was a more painful sucker-punch to the gut than Minho had imagined, because another scene was mixing with that one before his very eyes.

Minho felt his insides twist into worried knots as Seungmin stayed with his back turned to him, body heaving with sobs and face so clearly wet with tears, even when facing away.

He dabbed at his eyes with tissues, "I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry? I'm the one who's more sorry," Chan insisted, and Minho allowed himself for one final time to melt into that hug.

God knew he would never get it again, and finally his expression crumbled for just a moment. Minho wanted to rest. After all this time, didn't he deserve that much? To just rest for a moment with the people who were bold enough to love him, rather than just the other way around. Those eight boys were the ones who had given a damn about Lee Minho, who built him up and cared for him, protected him and gave him room to grow. Through more than one lifetime, they had bothered to show him more than an ounce of care and respect. Minho could not even say that of the parents and families of all of those lives. He didn't want to part with them, the thought had become so physically painful it was all he could do to just keep breathing, because if he didn't force himself he knew his lungs could collapse- Sucked into themselves the same way he imagined a black hole.

Minho did not want these men to cry.

He faked a smile, and blamed it on his confidence to the camera. Wasn't that always the problem in this time?

"I wasn't able to go with them together, the eight of them have to go now. I'm sorry to the members...I resent my confidence," He ended with a laugh.

Minho sobbed over his index cards when he returned him that night- Thankful neither of his parents were there so he wouldn't have to explain the situation just yet. By the time he was done, the torrent still wrenching in his gut, some of the ink was smeared and it felt painfully unfair. How much strength had it taken to make himself open up to the others, even if they had no idea who he really was? How much had Minho given of himself every as he watched Changbin's lips press a cool kiss against Felix's cheek, and Seungmin trap Jeongin in a hug that was a few levels too intimate? How much of Lee Minho was left after dedicating himself to Stray Kids? His hands shakily laid the cards out to dry as he whispered to himself, "Not much. Fuck, I don't think there's any."

He dreamt of Chan's smile from across the fence, Woojin's voice singing him to sleep after a night of making love, Changbin's shy expression when he woke up in his arms, Jisung's hand tangled like vines in his inside of that bedroom, the delighted laugh after every flash of Hyunjin's camera, Felix's warm hugs when Minho was low with Veronica purring by his side, Seungmin's body pressed against his every time he left the house, and Jeongin's cheerful wave as they met to walk to school together.

In the morning, Minho went straight to the company building.

He still had training to do.

He was a dancer, after all.

part v.

Minho didn't think his confidence would ever recover after the elimination. Even after Felix sadly joined him back in the normal practice rooms, and they even were given the chance to return to stage as nine, he felt something hollow inside of him. He wondered if it was at all comparable to the darkness he saw in Jisung's eyes years ago, but if nothing else, being near the other members again was enough to temporarily fill the empty cavern of his chest. He laughed and played with them, sweat bleeding into the practice room floors as they prepared their performances for the final episode. He wanted to anticipate it, to show off the best side of himself.

He felt strangely numb instead as he stood by Felix on the separated platform in front of the live audience. When the final result of nine was announced, his face hardly changed until Felix gripped his arm a little tighter and Minho made himself smile. His blank self was swept up in the thrumming energy of the crowd and the members, hugs and smiles and cheers being thrown everywhere he looked.

He felt more like a spectator than part of the action.

And they returned to that dorm he had left months earlier, his teammates jostling him in disbelief and happiness even still as he was herded into the small space. Finally, it was Jeongin who stopped short, a frown tugging at his beautiful mouth- It didn't suit him in the slightest, his eyes coming off too strongly and making Minho shiver.

"Minho hyung, aren't you...Happy? To be with us? Why haven't you smiled, really smiled, this whole time?" He asked, each word strong and heavy on his tongue. It forced Minho to pause, and think through the clouds in his head. He was speaking before he even knew what he wanted to say.

"What do you think of me, really?" The dancer's question hung in the air for a few moments, "I don't get it. What do you think of me?"

"We love you," Changbin answered fiercely, his thin fingers wrapping around Minho's wrist. The phrase made Minho flinch ever-so-slightly, but the rapper pressed forward despite the reaction because it was not one he understood and what he had to say was important, "We love you more than you can know. You're one of us, hyung."

"You being with us now? You're like a breath of fresh air after being trapped in a humid room for way too long. You make the lightheaded feeling better," Hyunjin piped up, his eyes nearly disappearing with his smile, "Hyung is the missing puzzle piece."

"You're talented, beautiful, and everything you need to be," Seungmin added simply, eyes twinkling, "Do you need anything else?"

"Apparently so," Jisung's arms came to rest around his shoulders, and Minho felt strangely soothed by the feeling of his lips brushing against his ear, "Minho hyung is the friend I'll always be grateful for, because he never gave up."

"Honestly, hyung, it's like we've known each other our whole lives. From the first time we met, I was so comfortable with you," Felix had no idea how much his words wanted to make Minho laugh, and there was a strange emotion filling that empty space that had been building over the long, painful months. Minho wasn't sure that any of his eight previous lives had even begun to give him the vocabulary to give it form. He may have been an author in the past, but this was something that could not be explained in just plain writing and he was no lyricist.

"It was like meeting an old friend again," Woojin agreed, his hand resting solidly on Minho's head.

"And we always want that friend with us," Chan whispered, face solemn, "So stay with us. Please. You were and are worth all the struggles we went through. Let's do this together."

Minho agreed with a strange taste on his tongue and his friends hugging him with the love he thought had burned out so long ago.

("It feels like you're grabbing me, and you're grabbing my collar," Woojin patted his arm as the elevator went up on the way to Namsan tower. Minho's insides were not empty, they were filled and happy but he was also terrifyingly anxious when it came to heights, "Calm down, it's okay."

Minho blinked and leaned closer to the elder as he remembered.

"Calm down, it's okay," Woojin reassured, petting his hair. His voice was melodic as always, and it made Minho's head spin.)

(Minho stirred the food he, Felix, and Jeongin were preparing for Seungmin, Changbin, and Chan. He titled his head as he considered it, "Shall we put the rice in it?"

"Is it now?" Felix asked at the same time. Jeongin replied with a grin.

"Now!" He insisted, dimples on full display. This time Minho was hardly surprised as the flashback flooded over his vision for a moment.

"Now!" He insisted with a bright grin, and Minho sighed playfully, leaning forward and placing a hand on the boy's cheek to help lead him forward. He pressed their lips together, and Minho would tease Jeongin's little sigh for months to come.)

The ninth time Lee Minho fell in love, it was with an idea. The idea of being a dancer, the idea of being an idol, with eight beautifully bright boys at his side. The ones who he had fought tooth and nail through lifetimes to finally be together with. They were the ones he teased every morning, they were the ones he criticized when they got the choreography wrong, they were the ones he watched from the sidelines with something that wasn't quite jealousy anymore, they were the ones who filled his heart and any empty space he created inside of himself.

Lee Minho fell in love with the idea of their team, and he lived in bliss every moment he was a part of it.

Chapter Text

Hello everyone~ This took much too long to decide and accomplish, but a long while back I brought up the idea of a oneshot collection in relation to this fic, and I've finally posted it. In case you're still interested, this is the link to What Wasn't Said!

In truth, I've very grateful for the attention this fic has received through the months. When I first posted the ninth and final chapter, I'd just broken 100 kudos and was more than happy with that, but here we are now with well over both 10,000 views and 500 kudos. This fic enabled me to make many friends and introduced me to a lot of my regular readers, and inspired me to go on to write better works. There's a lot I feel could be improved in this piece, especially in terms of characters as we've gotten to know the members much more since this is mainly a predebut work. When I started writing the last chapter, we didn't even have a debut date and now we're at their second comeback. This fic is very meaningful to me and I'm happy that I was able to share it with the fandom. <3 Thank you to everyone who has read it, no matter if you started with the first chapter or have just read the whole thing through! I hope even a bit of it was enjoyable for you, and that we can meet again in What Wasn't Said.

No matter when you're reading this note, I hope you had or will have a lovely day. <3 Thank you for your support!