Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

2009, September

The rain outside is pouring hard and the interior of Blueprint Café, where Jisung works, feels like a warm capsule enclosed in white noise. The weather report that morning had only mentioned sunny skies, so it should be an inconvenience, but Jisung finds that he doesn't really mind – there are worse places to be than a warm and cozy café that smells like delicious, freshly brewed coffee. It’s the middle of the afternoon, too, before most of the college crowd are done with classes, so the crowd is piddling; just a handful of customers - a couple huddling together on one of the cushy love seats, a pair of friends in a corner table with laptops open and a stack of books between them, and finally, a quiet guy sitting by the window, staring out at the rain and seemingly lost in thought.

“Earth to Jisung,” Changbin squawks, effectively nudging Jisung out of his silent reverie. “Han Jisung!” he repeats, louder.

“Calm down!” Jisung shoots back, his voice just as loud despite his wincing at Changbin's rough tone. “I can hear you just fine.”

It's just the two of them at work that afternoon, with their shift manager still stuck at home thanks to the heavy downpour. A reason why it's lucky that there aren't very many customers at the moment. That said, it’s also getting a little boring just standing behind the counter, watching the same five people sit in silence and barely move from their seats. (Well, the happy couple gets really giggly every now and then, but it's mostly their mouths and tongues getting any kind of workout, and Jisung, being a very single teenager, would really rather not focus on them.)

“I’m just… bored,” Changbin whines.

Jisung chortles. “Do I look like your personal home entertainment system?”

“Yes.” Changbin grins and playfully slaps him on the back before turning to the sparse view of the store. “Don't you wish—”

“No,” Jisung immediately interrupts him. “Nope. Wishes are dangerous.”

Changbin snorts. “No need to get snappy,” he says with a click of his tongue. “Fine, then. Let's play a game.”

Jisung gives him an exasperated look, but it isn't as if he has anything better to do with his time. A quick glance at his watch tells him there's three hours left to the end of his shift. “Fine,” he agrees. “I’ll bite.”

Changbin smirks and subtly gestures around them. “Pick one: if you had an important meeting and you overslept, who among these people do you think could come up with the best excuse to bail you out?”

Jisung chuckles; this is something they regularly do whenever time passes too slow at work. Mostly, it’s their version of people watching with a twist. 

“For me, it's gotta be that dude with the girlfriend, no?” Changbin shares first, gently nodding in the direction of the couple – now busy watching something together on the girl’s laptop. “He looks like he's used to coming up with excuses all the time. He probably arrives late to pick her up for dates all the time.”

Jisung shakes his head. “I’ll choose the girlfriend, then. She looks like she's used to making excuses for him in her head.”

“Dude, that's dark.” Changbin snorts.

“I simply tell it like it is.”

“Sure you do.” Changbin taps his fingers against the counter, briefly quiet, and Jisung can practically see the gears in his head turn. “Okay, a better food for thought—if you had to swap bodies with someone in this crowd, who would you wish it to be?”

“Huh.” Jisung bites his bottom lip, and his eyes sweep over the store, observing their patrons one by one. “Would that mean I’d have their body but I'd still be living my life—or I'd be in their body, living their life?”

“Uhh…” Changbin takes a quick second to consider. “The latter.”

“Tricky. How am I supposed to choose if I know nothing about their lives?”

Changbin laughs. “That's why it's food for thought! Make up your own criteria!”

“Well who would you choose?”

“The cute girl who is in the corner doing her homework with her friend.” Changbin doesn't even pause before  an answer. “The one with the eyebrow piercing. She's cute and edgy but she also looks like she gets good grades.”

Jisung snorts. “What a boring answer.”

“Do better, then.”

Jisung hums, his gaze naturally settling on the guy all alone and sitting by the window. He wouldn't necessarily call him a regular, but Jisung has noticed him come and go a few times before. Usually he orders a drink to go, and he's gone as quickly as he had come. This is the first time that he's chosen to stay at the café, and Jisung doesn't know if Changbin has noticed, but the moment the guy had entered the store around an hour ago, he had been frequently drawn to him, stealing glances every so often. Even the first time he had gone to the café—maybe a month or two ago—the stranger had immediately seemed familiar to Jisung somehow.

The stranger looks like he's around his and Changbin’s age; he's wearing simple jeans and a gray sweatshirt, with the hoodie worn over his head. It's cute though, because he has tucked the hood behind his ears, making them stick out, and because of this, Jisung had almost giggled when the boy placed an order (one iced Americano, and a slice of Chicago cheesecake) with him earlier. And then he smiled, shy and almost awkward and Jisung almost gawked. The curl of the boy's lips was slight and subtle, but his eyes sparkled and the only thought in Jisung's head was that this person was the most beautiful person he had ever set his eyes on. And then he paid with cash, and Jisung’s heart fluttered when the tips of their fingers briefly brushed against each other as bills were handed over. Something about him seemed sad, though, and that's also part of why Jisung is constantly looking over to him, trying to figure the stranger out, and unable to keep from wondering what it is that's making him vibe so melancholic.

“Guy by the window,” Jisung finally answers Changbin out loud.

His friend snickers knowingly. “Figures you'd pick your crush.”

“W-what? Huh?” Jisung is taken aback by Changbin's unabashed declaration; he would argue it to be false because you don't just develop a crush after seeing a person you've only seen two to three times before, but—his own subconscious argues against him. He feels warmth bloom across his cheeks, and alright, maybe you can.

Changbin cackles. “You think I haven't noticed you staring at Pretty Boy over there? Hey Pretty boy neon eodin-ga bujokhae! Amureon maeryeok eopshi,  yeppeu—”  

He breaks out into a song that Jisung recognizes as a B-side from the 2NE1 mini album that dropped earlier that year. He knows Changbin owns it because they'd been together when Changbin bought a CD. Wincing, Jisung is quick to clamp a hand over his friend's big mouth and interrupt him mid-verse.

“I haven't been staring!” He denies, and he would argue that he really, truly hasn't. A few stolen glances does not constitute staring. “Who doesn't want to be that good looking?” he points out; Changbin is blind if he denies that much because anyone who has working vision can see that window boy is good looking. “And I like his taste in drinks and food,” he adds, trying to argue his way out of Changbin's accusation—even though he knows it shouldn't even be a big deal.

Changbin squints. “Fair enough—not everyone enjoys drinking coffee flavored ice water like you do.”

Jisung huffs. “One day people will appreciate Americanos and you will rue this day.”

“Rue this—” Changbin snorts, and waves his hand dismissively. “Sure, if you say so.”

Jisung glares at him, but chooses to continue back on topic. “Anyway I also kinda heard the song blasting out of his headphones when he was at the counter earlier—he has good taste in music and I wouldn't wanna live the life of someone with shitty taste in music, would you? So yeah, if I had to choose, I'd choose him.”

“Touché,” Changbin hums, looking more amused than actually agreeable.

Chapter Text

Jisung's eyelids feel heavy and he wants to just keep them shut; to just keep sleeping for a few more minutes at least, but an inexplicable and unknown force is compelling him to wake up already. With a slight groan, he rolls onto his side and slowly forces his eyes open.

His vision is blurry and out-of-focus, and he barely makes out the red 6:56 AM displayed on the digital alarm clock sat atop his bedside table. It's definitely too early if it isn't even 7 in the morning — why is his body clock fucking him over like this?

He groans and mumbles profanities under his breath, choosing to shove his head under a pillow so he can attempt to hurry back to dreamland. Except his brain is apparently alert now, and it notes something that strikes Jisung as odd – when did he get a digital alarm clock?

He ducks out from under the pillow and blinks, slowly taking in his surroundings. This isn't right, he thinks, rubbing his eyes open, forcing his vision into clearer focus. The ceiling is missing the collection of glow-in-the-dark stars he had stuck on there when he first moved in, not to mention the wallpaper color is all wrong. This isn't his room—heck, he realises as he rolls around his mattress, it doesn't even feel like his bed.

The realisation sinks in and he shoots up to a sitting position.

“What the fuck?” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes more furiously and looking around, almost expecting his surroundings to morph into something more familiar. He didn’t get in until one in the morning last night, but that's because he had a late shift at the convenience store and not because he got smashed at some tent bar.

The digital alarm suddenly goes off, loud and obnoxious, and Jisung wants to scream because the noise makes his head throb.

“Fucking fuck motherfucker,” he curses, reaching over and pressing random buttons on the clock so he can get it to stop ringing. When the beeping doesn't stop and in fact just gets louder, Jisung feels momentary rage, compounded by absolute confusion, take over and before he knows it he’s picking up the clock and angrily yanking it out of the socket.

Silence fills the room, but Jisung is completely awake now; instinctively, he paws at the bedside table and grabs the pair of glasses he finds there. A final once over around the room is enough to definitely confirm that this is not his bedroom.

“Did I get so drunk that I don't even remember actually drinking and going home with a stranger?” he mutters, feeling incredibly confused. He tumbles out of bed and is faced with an empty studio apartment.

He notices a freshly pressed high school uniform set hung up in front of what seems to be a full length mirror that's set up next to a built-in closet, and Jisung's brow contorts in immediate worry. He didn't go home with someone old enough to have a child in high school, did he? Or worse— an actual high school student?!

He ambles over to inspect the uniform, but when he picks it off from where it's hung his reflection on the mirror is revealed to him.

“Who the f—” he stares at the person looking back at him. He’s wearing on his face the same confusion that Jisung is feeling, except the features are all wrong. He reaches up to adjust the glasses balanced on his nose bridge and the stranger inside the mirror does the same. “Ah,” Jisung vocalises. “Oh. Ee. Hi. Hello.” The mirror person mouths the same words, and Jisung grows more and more perturbed.

He looks down and finds that he’s wearing black jersey shorts with an old, worn out shirt that has a picture of a cat’s paw with the word ‘PAW-SOME!’ written comically under it. The person in the mirror is donning the same outfit—the shirt even has the same hole near the collar—but that is most definitely not his face.

The boy in the mirror has unruly bed hair, but it’s black and not the dirty blonde Jisung dyed it just the week prior. It also doesn't have the floofy volume it naturally boasts of. He squints and this is how notices that his lashes have grown thicker and longer, enough so that he's able to catch them fanning his cheekbones every time he blinks. His nose bridge is now also taller, with a slope that could have been sculpted by the Gods; when he opens his mouth, he notices cute bunny teeth instead of the two crooked front teeth that he has always dreamed of getting fixed as soon as he has enough money to do so.

He pulls and squishes his face and he cringes. Gone are his round cheeks. “And I have fucking acne,” he whines out loud. It's only recently, after he became an adult, that he has discovered how to control acne breakouts; he glances at the high school uniform and it dawns on him—does it belong to the boy in the mirror? To the boy whose body Jisung now seemingly… occupies? If he's still in high school, then the acne kind of makes sense.

“Binnie-hyung! Channie-hyung!” he calls out for his roommates; the apartment is so small and he has a clear view of its emptiness from where he's standing, not to mention this is definitely not the cheap two bedroom the three of them share, but he hopes that one of them will answer him anyway.

Crickets.

Jisung's confusion is quickly morphing into extreme panic. What is happening? What is he supposed to do?!

He notices a stuffed backpack in the periphery of his vision; he quickly goes to grab it and proceeds to unceremoniously dump all its contents on the bed.

First to tumble out is a purple folding umbrella. There are also three notebooks, a Calculus workbook and a worn copy of an old volume of Naruto. He picks up one of the notebooks: Lee Minho, Class 3-2 is written on the cover, while a tabled class schedule is drawn up on the first page. Jisung winces because he doesn't miss high school at all—granted, he just got out of it earlier that year but overall he's pretty sure it's not a time in his life he would ever be keen on reminiscing.

There's also a cloth pencil case, and when Jisung inspects it he finds it only contains one black gel tip pen, one red marker and an almost empty white-out pen. He shakes the bag some more and a brown wallet, as well as a green iPod with earphone cord wrapped around it falls out.

Now we're getting somewhere, he thinks, tossing the empty bag to the side and sitting on the bed, determined to inspect this person’s music taste. Before he can power the device on, there's a loud thumping at the door that has him jumping to his feet in surprise.

“Lee Minho!” A loud female booms through the door. “Are you ready?! We're gonna be late!”

The rising panic is back, and Jisung's eyes immediately scour the room in an attempt to look for somewhere to hide. The person at the door keeps knocking, though, and it suddenly dawns on him that he doesn't actually have reason to hide because when this girl looks at him, she’ll see this Minho person and not really know any better.

Nevertheless, he considers pretending not to be home – he's already wondering: if he goes back to sleep, what are the chances he wakes up back in his own skin?

The girl at the door is more determined than he assumed because the next thing Jisung knows, the door is swinging wide open and a small girl with dimples and clad in a high school uniform is strutting inside the apartment.

“Why aren't you dressed yet?!” she huffs bossily, and who is this? Jisung wonders. Is she Lee Minho's girlfriend? Otherwise, why in the world would she even have the key to Lee Minho's apartment—and why would she be bold enough to just barge in without explicit permission?

She stomps over to him, and nudges him towards a door that Jisung can only assume leads to the bathroom.

“Just wash your face and brush your teeth,” the girl tells him, handing him his uniform to take with him. A brief glance at the name plate pinned on her blouse lets Jisung know that she’s Park Jiwon – which means absolutely nothing to him, but at least he now has a way of referring to her in his head that isn't just ‘intrusive girl.’

Because he's feeling spiteful and petty, Jisung takes his sweet time in the bathroom, showering properly and not just washing his face as he was told. He reluctantly puts on the high school uniform, and by the time he steps out, Jiwon has her arms impatiently crossed over her chest and she's looking at him with an ample amount of disapproval.

“Come on,” she says, shoving the bag from earlier into his hands. Jisung notices that all of its contents have been stuffed back inside. “Don't forget your phone either,” Jiwon adds, grabbing an old Samsung Anycall flip phone from the bedside table and handing it to him.

Damn, Jisung thinks, because he missed noticing the phone earlier. He assumes it could tell him a bit more about the body he's wearing now, so he slips it safely into his pocket.

As soon as they step outside the apartment building, big fat drops of rain start to fall and it only takes several seconds before it's showering pretty heavily. Luckily, Jisung remembers that Minho has an umbrella in his bag; Jiwon herself is already in the middle of opening a bright, yellow umbrella.

“Minho-yah,” she starts, and it takes Jisung a beat to realise that she's talking to him. He wonders if he will ever get used to being called another name—he hopes he wouldn't have to.

“Uh—hm?” he responds quietly, falling half a step behind Jiwon as they exit onto the sidewalk; he has no idea where they're going. To school, he assumes, but he has no idea where that is.

“You feeling okay?”

“Eh?” Jisung grows nervous. Jiwon is clearly very close with Lee Minho, so it wouldn't be a surprise if she's noticed that he isn't himself—but Jisung still doesn't want to have that conversation, obviously. “Why wouldn't I be?”

Jiwon shrugs. “Dunno. Whenever it rains you're usually in a shitty mood—rather, when you're in a shitty mood, it always rains.” She laughs, and Jisung relaxes because while he doesn't understand what she's blathering about, it's clear that he doesn't suspect Minho of being anyone other than Minho. “It's almost a chicken versus egg situation, your mood and the rain.”

Jisung snorts; she's talking nonsense but he doesn't know how else to respond.

He follows Jiwon who, luckily, seems to love the sound of her own voice enough to keep talking without expecting wordy responses from Jisung—or, rather, from her point of view, Minho. She keeps a one-sided conversation going - mostly about some movie she caught on television the night before. They don't take a bus, and Jiwon simply navigates sidewalks and back streets that Jisung can only assume are shortcuts to their destination.

When the school gates finally come into view, the sign at the entrance says ‘Gimpo Jeil Technical High School.’ Gimpo, Jisung notes under his breath. So that's where they are. It wouldn't be a very long commute to Seoul, at least.

The campus, unsurprisingly, is bustling early in the morning. He realises he has no idea where his classroom would be, or if he and Jiwon even belong in the same class. He recalls that Minho is in 3-2, at least, and it's easy to tell that Jiwon is also a senior, considering how informally she talks with Minho. Jisung figures that means it would be a safe bet to keep following her because surely the senior classrooms would be in the same hall.

He breathes a quiet sigh of relief when the overhead sign on the door Jiwon eventually walks through says 3-2. His next dilemma is that he doesn't know where Minho is supposed to sit, especially when Jiwon finally gives him a weird look when he starts to place his bag on the table next to hers.

“Minho-yah!” Once again, it takes Jisung a couple of seconds to realise that the guys at the back corner are calling him.

“I don't sit here, do I?” he mumbles in question to Jiwon who laughs while she keeps giving him a strange look.

“No?” She huffs. “That's Jisun’s place—you sit over there,” Jiwon continues, her thumb jerking in the direction of the guys who are still motioning him over. “At the back next to the window.”

The table she means is surrounded by the aforementioned guys, and when Jisung approaches them, they all casually nod and clap him in the back before parting—presumably so he can claim his seat at the center.

The boys are mostly discussing homework; one of them brings up the name of a girl, and based on how the rest of the group reacts with loud and teasing whoops, Jisung figures it's safe to assume the guy is talking about his girlfriend—or at least, his crush. He's doing a lot of assuming and his day has barely started. All Jisung can do is laugh along when the rest of the boys do, even though he has no idea what is going on. They seem perfectly fine with that anyway; completely unsuspecting that their friend Minho isn't really their friend Minho.

Still, it's a relief when some guy rushes into the room announcing that ‘Mrs. Park is headed up the stairs!’ and all the students disperse to their respective seats. Jisung assumes (yet again) that Mrs. Park is their first period, and five minutes later, as Mrs. Park begins to take attendance, he confirms that he isn't wrong.

Morning passes slowly. Jisung was never the most diligent at studying when he was still in school, but he has always been pretty smart so his grades never suffered. He retains information quite easily, so he still remembers most of the lessons Minho's teachers present – he was taught them all less than a year ago after all. Mostly, he spends the morning lost in his messy thoughts and trying to figure out what is going on. How did he end up in Lee Minho's body, and does him being stuck in Minho’s body mean that Minho is occupying his body?

When it's time for lunch, the group of boys from that morning converge around him once more. This time the topic of choice is what they want for lunch; none of them seem to mind that Jisung (Minho) once again has nothing of note to contribute to the conversation, yet they all keep him in the center of their huddle. This is how Jisung deduces that Lee Minho is pretty popular and well respected, but in a non imposing way. As someone who mostly stuck by himself in high school, Jisung can't say he relates. His only friend back then was Changbin, and they weren't even in the same year.

“How about you Minho?” One of the boys finally acknowledges him directly and Jisung is pulled from his thoughts. “Are you eating at the cafeteria with us or did you bring your own lunch to eat with the girls?” He glances towards the front of the classroom and Jisung figures that he means Jiwon and her friend—Jisun, if he correctly remembers the name Jiwon mentioned earlier.

He thinks it's interesting that Minho apparently alternates lunch period between his guy and girl friends. He supposes it makes sense though, if he keeps assuming that Jiwon is his girlfriend, even if she didn't initiate any sort of skinship at all—not even hand holding—during their commute to school.

“Uh.” For very obvious reasons—like the fact that Jisung isn't even in his own body and his morning had been spent accepting that—he wasn't able to bring his own lunch; his stomach is definitely lightly rumbling in hunger, but he's also realizing that he doesn't even know if he has money. He remembers that Minho's wallet is in his bag, but he hadn’t been able to check how much money he actually has since he didn't even need to use a bus pass to get to school.

When he reaches into his bag for the wallet so he can check, his fingers brush against his vibrating mobile phone instead. “You guys go ahead,” he tells Minho's friends. He might as well use the lunch break to inspect Minho’s wallet and phone. “I’m not too hungry,” he lies.

The guys all either shrug their shoulders or grumble but they don't force him to join them. Once they're gone, Jiwon motions to him, like she's expecting him to join her and her friend, but Jisung waves at her dismissively. Finally, when he's alone, with the hope that this Lee Minho guy has no one else who will bother him, Jisung takes the phone out of the bag.

A notification for (1) New Message is displayed on screen and when Jisung opens the inbox, he finds that it's from an unsaved but familiar number—it's his number.

+82 010 2000 0914
so assuming you have my body
then
you also have my phone???

Well, shit.

Instead of responding through text, the first thing Jisung does is hit the call button, but the attempt refuses to go through. ‘The phone call you're trying to make is out of coverage area,’ a robotic female voice informs him each of the three times that Jisung tries to call. Eventually, he caves and types a response—even though he really doesn't know what the right thing to say in this situation is.

+82 010 1025 1998
lee minho?

+82 010 2000 0914
han jisung????????
this is really happening, huh?

Jisung stares at the phone, dumbstruck. He echoes Minho's words in his own thoughts— this is really happening, huh? What do you even tell the person who is inside your own body?

+82 010 1025 1998
how's my body doing?

+82 010 2000 0914
that's rly the first thing you thought of to ask

+82 010 1025 1998
well idk u and afaik
ure some random teenager and my body is a temple
am i just supposed to trust u'll be careful w me?

+82 010 2000 0914
temple ㅋㅋㅋㅋ
a small temple

+82 010 1025 1998
yah
ive been working on that
i now go to the gym once a week

+82 010 2000 0914
once a week
not to mention you have nothing but ramyeon in ur fridge

+82 010 1025 1998
look my roommate cooks healthy food for us!
well sometimes
when chan-hyung actually has the time
yah why r u talking so casually to me anyway??
ure still in high school
which means ure younger than me

+82 010 2000 0914
looking at you in the mirror right now and
you look like you could be in high school
YEAR ONE

+82 010 1025 1998
yah im ur hyung

+82 010 2000 0914
but r you really if u're in my body?

+82 010 1025 1998
its the consciousness that matters

+82 010 2000 0914
ok lol
if you say so HYUNG

+82 010 1025 1998
better ㅋㅋ
wait tho r we rly just gna accept that we swapped like this?

+82 010 2000 0914
is panicking gonna do either of us any good?

+82 010 1025 1998
thats… true
smart thinking DONGSAENG

+82 010 2000 0914
besides maybe everything will be back to normal tmr
if not then we'll figure it out then

+82 010 1025 1998
ure surprisingly calm for a hormonal teenager

+82 010 2000 0914
who says im hormonal

+82 010 1025 1998
arent all teenagers?
i know i was when i was ur age

+82 010 2000 0914
well im not you
learn 2 put yourself in someone else's shoes!

+82 010 1025 1998
except u r kinda me rn ㅌㅋ
and i already am wearing UR shoes ha haha
speaking of which…
its noon, and i have a shift at blueprint cafe at 1

+82 010 2000 0914
??? where is that

+82 010 1025 1998
ask changbin
he used to work there with me
my shift is until 8

+82 010 2000 0914
that's ur roommate that's shorter than you, right?
if u're gna make me go to your job then you should go to mine. it's at a bbq restaurant called gogi matzzip. shift starts at 6. it's right across the street from the bus stop near my house
its monday for you too right? i have cram school before that. just go w jiwon… have u met jiwon?

+82 010 1025 1998
i asked u to take my shift at a cafe and u hit me back with double the responsibility
ure lucky its my day off from my second job today
jiwon… yeah.
she was banging at ur door at 7 in the morning
is she ur gf???

+82 010 2000 0914
WHAT???? JIWON?? MY GF?? ㅎㅎㅎㅎㅎㅎㅎㅎㅎㅎㅎㅎㅎ
MOST DEFINITELY NOT
her family lives upstairs in the same building and her parents are really nice to me and sometimes they make extra food portions for me and leave it in my fridge so i let them have a key

+82 010 1025 1998
ah… u rly live by yourself?

+82 010 2000 0914
yeah starting this year. my parents live too far away, and i prefer the short commute to everywhere so i can make time for everything i need to do

+82 010 1025 1998
how independent

+82 010 2000 0914
im a very admirable high school student arent i

+82 010 1025 1998
a very too full of urself as well

+82 010 2000 0914
ha ha u're SO funny
anyway thats just my monday schedule and if we're still stuck living each other's lives by tmr ill tell you what to do different then

+82 010 1025 1998
yeah well no offense but i hope not

+82 010 2000 0914
hey now hyung
that should be my line

The conversation with Minho flows strangely well, and Jisung finds himself participating in the banter without thinking of further questioning why they are suddenly in each other's bodies. Instead, thought of following Minho's instructions and living his life filled with responsibilities stresses Jisung out, but despite the creeping anxiety he manages to pull it off—at least for the most part.

It turns out that after school academy is not just with Jiwon, but with her best friend as well—Jisun, the girl whose seat Jisung had almost unwittingly claimed that morning. The two of them, Jisung comes to learn, are pretty opposite of each other. Jiwon is loud, with her volume constantly turned up to the highest setting, while Jisun is on the quieter side—even though she never hesitates to laugh out loud at most of Jiwon's jokes and silly antics. Considering that Jisung finds himself doing the same, he concludes that he can't really fault Jisun for the inconsistency when Jiwon is genuinely funny.

The two girls also seem pretty comfortable around him—which feels quite new for Jisung because he didn't have female friends in high school either. This further strengthens his assumptions that Minho is popular; friendly in a way that effortlessly draws his peers towards him without being intimidating, guys and girls both.

At the restaurant, he's almost late but he's silently grateful that he has had brief experience working at a BBQ restaurant before so he isn't completely lost when the manager just starts barking tasks at him. It's at this point that he remembers why he quit his job at the restaurant even though it had better hours and paid slightly more than clerking at a convenience store. As much as he loves eating meat, Jisung really dislikes smelling like barbeque and sesame oil all the time, not to mention the way the grease sticks on his skin is uncomfortable at best.

After serving a couple of tables, he's surprised to learn that he isn't the maknae among the workers. The dishwasher is a boy that their other co-workers refer to as Hyunjin; he's taller than Minho, with pretty boy features and he calls Minho, ‘hyung’ while acting overly familiar and cautious around him at once. When they run across each other during their overlapping fifteen minutes breaks, he talks about some ‘choreography’ Minho apparently promised to teach him, and Jisung, who has two left feet, could only smile at him cluelessly. He also makes a mental note to berate the real Minho for not making any mention of the Hyunjin kid, but then dinner rush happens and work gets super busy, distracting him effectively.

By the time he has to make the short trek back to Minho's apartment, he's so tired that he doesn't really bother washing up before crawling into bed. He doesn't remember being this tired back when he was still a student, quite frankly. The moment his head hits Minho's pillow, he's off to dreamland.

When he wakes up the next morning, the first thing he sees are the pink and orange stick-on stars haphazardly spread across his ceiling.

He's back home, back in his own skin — and it somehow feels bittersweet; feels strangely unreal.

“I think I had a weird dream last night,” Jisung shares, lighting up as Chan places a plate of eggs in front of him. “Thanks hyung,” he murmurs, all set to dig into his breakfast.

“Is that why you're up this early?” Chan squints at him.

Jisung grins. “Nope. This is just me wanting to eat your delicious scrambled eggs, hyung.”

Changbin gags at his ass-kissing and Jisung laughs. Chan probably isn't wrong; he had tried going back to sleep after waking up really early, but it refused to happen. After tossing and turning for ten minutes, he decided to stop forcing it. At least being able to eat Chan’s cooking to start his day is definitely a bonus. He usually sleeps in as much as he can, his day seldom starting before noon, often breaking his fast with cheap convenience store food that he picks up on his way to work.

“You were surprisingly asleep before midnight,” Chan points out. “It's good you're getting some rest.”

Jisung laughs. “Hyung, you're one to talk.”

He and his two roommates are all indisputably night owls; they're all veritable workaholics as well – and it can't be helped. They're trying their best to break into the music industry, and because their names have yet to be known even in the underground, they all have had to take on more than one part-time job so they could support themselves.

“So, what's the dream about?” Changbin asks.

“Okay, so it was kinda wild. I dreamt that I woke up in this high school kid’s body.”

Changbin blinks, and then he snorts with laughter. “Excuse me? You're having weird sex dreams now about someone still in high school? Dude.”

Jisung huffs and kicks Changbin under the table. “No, what the fuck?! Who said anything about it being a sex dream?! I only mean that I literally woke up in someone else's skin. That's what the dream was about. It wasn't weird in a kinky way or whatever. Either way, he was in his last year—so we're only a year apart. Don't make it skeezy!”

“Alright, if you say so.” Changbin keeps laughing, anyway. “Then what else happened?”

“Dunno. Nothing exciting, really. I spent an entire day back in high school.” Jisung frowns, pausing from chewing as he visibly shudders at the memory. “Maybe I should categorize this as a nightmare instead.”

Chan seems amused, but Changbin has barely stopped laughing during Jisung's entire story.

“Did you look in the mirror? Was the person you switched with, hideous?” Changbin inquires.

Jisung pauses. “He was actually pretty good looking,” he admits.

“At least you got to spend a day knowing how it feels to be handsome,” Changbin snarks. “Can't be everyday.”

“Ye—wait.” Jisung's eyes grow wide as the sneaky insult dawns on him. “Yah!”

Changbin's laughter grows, and even Chan lets out an entertained titter.

“But seriously—I just remembered we had a conversation about something like this before,” Changbin muses. “How was the guy’s music taste?”

Jisung wrinkles his nose; now that he has mentioned it, he does vaguely recall telling Changbin once about how he wouldn't like to live the life of someone with shitty music taste. “I wasn't able to look—missed opportunity. Dude lived such a busy life, I barely had time to breathe.”

As much as his own days are packed, Jisung can't imagine going to school on top of everything else. There's a reason he had decided to forego a college education despite decent CSAT marks.

“Guys—” Chan interjects, looking curious but confused. “It was a dream, so why are you talking about this like the person is real?” He chuckles and gestures at the spread on the table in front of them. “Finish your food!”

Jisung smiles sheepishly and goes back to his eggs, while Changbin flashes him a cheeky grin right before making a show out of shoving a spoonful of rice into his mouth.

“Anyway, hey—” Changbin eyes Jisung. “Are you gonna just be here at home until your shift at the café later?”

Jisung shrugs. “Probably. You know how much I love my bed.”

“Just asking because I have errands to run this morning,” Changbin says. “You can get to the Blueprint on your own today, right?”

“Huh?” Jisung looks up, brow furrowed, unsure what his friend and roommate is implying, if he is implying something. “Why wouldn't I?”

Changbin laughs. “I don't know. Yesterday, you were weirdly insistent that I drop you off—like you wouldn't be able to get there if I didn't give you a ride.”

Jisung stares at him. “Huh? A ride? On your damn Vespa?!”

“Yeah.” Changbin grins cheekily; probably because Jisung loves to make fun of him for that damn pink scooter.

Jisung just snorts. “You must have been dreaming too.”

“Well, you're looking chipper today!” Jeongin, the high school part timer at Café Blueprint, comments when he arrives for his shift that afternoon, and he catches Jisung brightly and cheerfully serving a couple their food and matching lattes.

“Eyyy!” Jisung playfully pokes the younger boy’s side. He's a cute kid that has been working with Jisung at the café for almost a year now. He's very straightforward and can be quite blunt with his words, but overall he's pretty sweet, and oftentimes Jisung can't help but treat him like the little brother he has always wanted but never had. “I’m always chipper around our little Jeonginnie,” he coos while tickling the younger’s chin.

Jeongin immediately leans away, making a face. Jisung knows that he doesn't truly mind, he's quite used to Jisung being like this around him by now—it's just a part of their normal banter.

“You were just—” Jeongin pauses, as if to consider what he's about to say “Well, I was going to say you were quite grumpy yesterday, but now I'm not so sure if that's the right word. Just—you were more soulless? Monotone. And you kept messing up orders, hyung.”

Jisung blinks. “Innie, what day is it today?” he asks slowly, puzzle pieces slowly settling in his head.

“Hyung?” Jeongin laughs. “Are you being weird again? It's Tuesday, of course.”

Oh. Like this, the pieces click into place. When he woke up that morning he thought he had retained memories of a very vivid dream—as the morning unfolded, it became hazier, blurry, feeling less and less real. But it's all coming back to focus now, and as his memories from the day before once again become sharp, he realises that it wasn't a dream at all.

“Hey Innie,” he starts untying his apron, deciding that he needs a bit of alone time to process properly. “I’m gonna take my break now.”

“Already?! I just got here, though?”

“Yeah well, the store’s practically empty,” Jisung points out. “It’ll just be ten to fifteen.”

Jeongin sighs as if he’s exasperated; he nods anyway. “Fine. But get me a strawberry Melona if you're going to the convenience store next door! I’ve been craving one since class ended but I thought I was gonna be late for work.”

Jisung grins. “Okay, okay,” he acquiesces, while pinching one of Jeongin's cheeks. “Don't miss me too much!” he adds, enjoying the disgusted expression Jeongin makes at him.

He exits through the back, but before heading to the convenience store, he takes his phone out—this is his real reason for excusing himself and wanting to be alone. Curious about an idea he had, he unlocks the screen and he navigates to his phone inbox—the topmost conversations are mostly with Chan, Changbin and his mother who frequently reminds him to always eat well. He scrolls all the way down to the bottom, and inexplicably, that's where he finds what he was searching for, a conversation with an unknown number.

He mutters a silent thanks that he at least splurged on a smart phone recently; he thinks about Minho's old flip phone and he scoffs because going through the inbox and outbox separately would be harder and more confusing. But he digresses.

He opens the conversation and scrolls up to the oldest of the messages and he gawks. It's a conversation that he recalls having—and as he scrolls down to read the rest of the exchange, he remembers that the incoming ones are his words.

“Shit,” he mutters. So, his strange dream—it really happened?

He clicks reply on the latest message. ‘Hello,’ he types, thumb hovering on the send button for several seconds, wondering what he's going to do if he actually receives a response, before he throws caution to the wind and he presses the button.

Message sending…. Message sent!

He keeps staring at his phone screen for the next minute or so, but nothing happens. No message arrives and eventually he can only sigh and pocket his phone again. Maybe Minho is busy—or maybe Minho doesn't exist and Jisung is simply going crazy.

Overthinking it will just drive him even closer to insanity, so he decides to just cross the street and get Jeongin his ice cream already.

A few days go by and nothing happens; memories of Minho—whoever he is—and Jisung's brief experience living as him start to fade as Jisung settles in his daily routine. Once again he starts thinking that maybe it was a fever dream; he might have been missing a Monday but the Sunday before that had him working a night shift at his convenience store job on top of double shifts at the café and considering that isn't even his normal Sunday schedule, it wouldn't be such a stretch that stress and exhaustion caused him to act weird the following Monday.

As for the messages, the conversation remains at the bottom of his inbox, to be deleted when his phone runs out of storage space. He hasn't come up with a logical explanation for them, so he just ignores their existence.

It's when he's starting to forget about any of it, that it happens. He wakes up, and the stick-on glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling are gone again.

Chapter Text

+82 010 1025 1998
so here we are again. i am you. you see me in you.
in the mirror i mean.

+82 010 2000 0914
ㅋㅋ hi i was beginning to think it was a fever dream

+82 010 1025 1998
because i look like a fantasy only fit for dreams am i right?
〈(•ˇ‿ˇ•)-→

+82 010 2000 0914
SO ANYWAY.
today i have dance club on top of cram school and work. the dance club meets at the pre-fab building near the gym, there's a studio there. it'll be hard to miss

+82 010 1025 1998
dance club??????? u dance? cant i just skip it?
surely no one would care if u dont show up for a day

+82 010 2000 0914
um everyone would absolutely care if the club captain is a no show

+82 010 1025 1998
hold on w8 a minute
ure club captain?? of the dance club??
fuck its too early to process this
fuck if i dont get out now jiwon would be yelling at the door soon wouldnt she?

+82 010 2000 0914
u curse way too much cant you watch your language when talking to a high school student?

+82 010 1025 1998
why are u acting like a grandma policing my language lol
and fuck no i bet u hear worse on the daily. i was way worse when i was still in school

+82 010 2000 0914
weren't you still in school last year??

+82 010 1025 1998
its called personal growth im a better man now who says fuck 20% less than i did at 19
anyway, don't forget: my blueprint shift is at 1, and my ministop shift is at 9

•••

+82 010 1025 1998
hey i noticed something
why did u change ur polyphonic ringtone to wonder girls’ nobody?? ಠಿ_ಠ

+82 010 2000 0914
???!! why not, its catchy

+82 010 1025 1998
sure it was when it first came out three years ago maybe
but sometimes too much of a good thing is truly too much

+82 010 2000 0914
it came out three days ago what are you on?

+82 010 1025 1998
what do u mean what am i on? what're YOU on?
u mean three years ago right
anyway im gna change it

+82 010 2000 0914
do that and ill turn your room upside down, dont change my things!
which reminds me btw pls dont go to sleep in my body without washing up
its gross in the morning and you've done that every time we have switched bodies

+82 010 1025 1998
HOLY SHIT WAIT A SECOND I JUST REALISED SOMETHING
what year is it?

+82 010 2000 0914
did you hit your head or something? its 2008

+82 010 1025 1998
uh r u sure about that?
go and check the calendar. we have one in the kitchen that shows a different cocktail recipe for each month lol

+82 010 2000 0914
wait
2011????
are you saying i went to sleep in 2008 and woke up in 2011?? altho come to think of it….

+82 010 1025 1998
damn
so this is why ur music taste is outdated.
2011 is the year of t-ara and rolypoly. remember this!

+82 010 2000 0914
wait, who???

•••

+82 010 2000 0914
so i realised smth after we swapped back the last time

+82 010 1025 1998
huh?

+82 010 2000 0914
technically im older than you
or, well. i was born before u
which means… im the hyung

+82 010 1025 1998
youre 19, im 20
im older!

+82 010 2000 0914
i was born in 1990
that makes me older than you, born in 1992!
besides you kinda bombed my calc exam the last time
i would deduce from that, that im much better at math than you are, so just trust when i say: numbers don't lie

+82 010 1025 1998
ok but i have more life experience at 20
also ure right about numbers and 20 is greater than 19!

+82 010 2000 0914
barely

+82 010 1025 1998
ure being stubborn for the sake of it arent you

+82 010 2000 0914
and you arent?

+82 010 1025 1998
lol fair enough
but damn fr tho am i rly in the past right now...

+82 010 2000 0914
speak for yourself
im in the future and there are still no flying cars milling around
how disappointing

+82 010 1025 1998
ITS A THREE YEAR DIFFERENCE ಠ_ಠ

+82 010 2000 0914
nevertheless!

•••

+82 010 1025 1998
hey minho why do u think our messages never go through when we're in our own bodies?

+82 010 2000 0914
we dont even have an explanation for why we keep switching bodies or why we switch so randomly
so why would we have an explanation for THAT?

+82 010 1025 1998
...ok tru ure right
hey minho, do u ever stare at the mirror when ure in my body?

+82 010 2000 0914
huh why would i do that??

+82 010 1025 1998
WHY NOT?? for one u get to be graced with my handsomeness maybe???

+82 010 2000 0914
lol uh?
WAIT A MINUTE
do YOU do that when you're in mine?

+82 010 1025 1998
sure, but it kinda freaks me out every time though
im actually looking right now and.. its weird.
what i expect to see is not the same as what im actually seeing
you get me?

+82 010 2000 0914
you talking about this now has me looking at the mirror too
and youre right its super weird
i dont think i can ever get used to this
this is why i stopped looking at my reflection as you after that first day

+82 010 1025 1998
but u gotta admit
im super handsome right??? ㅎㅎㅎㅎㅎ

+82 010 2000 0914
youre absolutely annoying
but i guess you actually arent bad looking

•••

+82 010 1025 1998
man we've really just been taking this whole body swapping thing in stride
this is what? the third time this happened in a week?

+82 010 2000 0914
yes and you know what i went to the supermarket today
you and your roommates need healthier food in your pantry

+82 010 1025 1998
a high school student is really schooling me on healthy eating

+82 010 2000 0914
all the more reason for you to feel some shame

+82 010 1025 1998
chan-hyung feeds us all the food groups when he can ㅠㅠ
anyway hey minho, do u believe in past lives?

+82 010 2000 0914
thats a strange segue?

+82 010 1025 1998
i was reading a blog article on it last night
it made me wonder if we were connected in a past life
because of all the people to switch bodies with… why us?

+82 010 2000 0914
because nature is an inexplicable freak

+82 010 1025 1998
ure probably right
anyway im gna ask around the internet
maybe someone will have an answer

+82 010 2000 0914
maybe
but probably not

•••

+82 010 2000 0914
hey so theres a cd in a blue jewel case on top of the stack of textbooks on my desk
its a video of me dancing—practice the choreography when you can. the last time after we switched back, hyunjin was acting all weird and nosy bc accdg to him i looked like i suddenly grew two left feet
wouldnt normally care since i know that was you with the two left feet and not me but thats kinda embarrassing coming from a freshman

+82 010 1025 1998
dancing is HARD and my two left feet are GENETIC

+82 010 2000 0914
shut up you don't actually have two LEFT FEET
and dancing isnt really hard trust me. you just have to learn to let your body move to the music. just relax, and your body will follow.
besides, choreography is just memorized steps—dancing is about the feeling. and i know you're pretty good with music. changbin played the song you were working on together. you're very talented!

+82 010 1025 1998
changbin-hyung what?!

+82 010 2000 0914
well he thought he was letting you hear it. he was asking my (your) opinion on some melody he added. i didnt know what to say so i said to ask me again after a day bc i need more sleep ㅋㅋ

+82 010 1025 1998
...sounds like something i would say

+82 010 2000 0914
yeah he bought it lol

+82 010 1025 1998
anyway i just started playing the video and what the FUCK MINHO
i didnt know u could dance like this??
now i get why hyunjin was questioning ur sudden lack of hand feet coordination
HOLY SHIT HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO DO THIS?!

+82 010 2000 0914
uh MY muscle memory perhaps?ㅋㅋㅋㅋ

•••

+82 010 2000 0914
why is changbin asking if im done with my lyrics for a song called broken compass? am i? done with the lyrics?

+82 010 1025 1998
oh shit i was just gna cram and wing it during down time at work

+82 010 2000 0914
wing it now!

+82 010 1025 1998
shit ill try but minho sorry mrs park is staring daggers at me bye

+82 010 2000 0914
fuck jisung did u get me demerits?
fuck changbin is saying we should just workshop lyrics TODAY
fuck jisung respond asap im no writer???
and now chan just came in saying he got studio time for free. TONIGHT. help?????

+82 010 1025 1998
wow minho i think u've perfectly adopted my vocabulary ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

•••

+82 010 1025 1998
hey minho? i was talking to hyunjin today and he started talking abt plans u have?
i gathered from his rambling that ure taking a talent test to get into the dance program at yonsei conservatory?
are u doing the choreo u taught me?

+82 010 2000 0914
that hyunjin has a big mouth… but yeah you figured out right

+82 010 1025 1998
ㅋㅋㅋ to be fair as far as he knows he was talking to u
wow though! thats so cool! ure very talented and between u and me that hyunjin guy clearly looks up to u
but in all seriousness, i think thats really brave of you to pursue dancing. is that the reason why you've been living alone? so you can have more time for dance practice?
hyunjin also just asked if ure headed to the dance studio after work tonight… u practice after work???? when u get off at 10???

+82 010 2000 0914
all of that coming from someone who has bet everything on chasing after a career in the music industry? that's an even more ambiguous career field isn't it? jisung i think that makes you just as brave, if not more
but… thats why im living alone. i needed more time to be able to squeeze in dance training and cutting the commute was the only way to go. im lucky that my parents are very supportive, but i dont want to just bank on their money and goodwill forever. besides, i figured living alone is also a good test for myself and a way for me to practice for when i move to seoul next year

+82 010 1025 1998
thats so cool!!! maybe one day i can produce a track that u can dance to ㅋㅋ

+82 010 2000 0914
would you rly do that?

+82 010 1025 1998
sure, why not?

+82 010 2000 0914
does that mean one day we can meet? um, is that something you'd be interested in?

+82 010 1025 1998
wow… maybe.
but uh maybe not just yet?

+82 010 2000 0914
ok
whenever you're ready (:

•••

+82 010 2000 0914
hey im supposed to go home and visit my parents today. thats the only thing on schedule for the weekend

+82 010 1025 1998
oh. okay but. uh what if ur folks notice that something is off? (￣ヘ￣;)

+82 010 2000 0914
like what?

+82 010 1025 1998
like oh.. i dunno. that their son isnt their son for one??

+82 010 2000 0914
im pretty sure my parents wont ask you if you're really me.
besides, they’ll probably chalk it up to puberty or smth.
also! this is your chance to go and eat a nice, home cooked meal so you're welcome!
finally, i figured long ago that this could eventually happen, so i wrote instructions on how to get home. its on the back of my korean lit notebook

+82 010 1025 1998
minho how do u even read ur own writing??
if i get lost ure gna be the only person to blame!

+82 010 2000 0914
ive seen your handwriting han jisung, you shouldn't be one to talk with your chicken scratch penmanship
let me know when you get there!

+82 010 1025 1998
u would be happy to know i arrived at your parents' in one piece no thanks to your ugly instructions!
BUT ALSO… U HAVE CATS??? TWO OF THEM??

+82 010 2000 0914
you've met my little brothers! ㅋㅋ the one who is predominantly orange is soonie, and the other one with more white in the face is doongie

+82 010 1025 1998
theyre so cute… ive always liked cats but when i was younger my nose always got a little runny when im around them for too long
ok soonie is looking at me strangely but doongie is so sweet!!!! ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

+82 010 2000 0914
??? yah i think youve got them backwards, soonie is the sweet one

+82 010 1025 1998
nope, orange soonie, white and orange face doongie u said
he’s on my lap right now switching between butting his head against my stomach and asking for kisses
ur dad just made a comment that doongie is being more affectionate than usual? i think ur cats like me a lot.
well…doongie does

+82 010 2000 0914
i guess because doongie thinks you're me

+82 010 1025 1998
so then explain why soonie is looking at me suspiciously ㅠㅠ
i think soonie can tell im NOT you
now he just sniffed my feet and then sauntered off. why is ur cat like this!!!!???

+82 010 2000 0914
ah well soonie has always been the smart one ㅋㅋㅋㅋ

•••

+82 010 1025 1998
hey minoring i cant sleep

+82 010 2000 0914
do you expect me to sing you a lullaby?

+82 010 1025 1998
ㅋㅋ we cant even call each other so why would i expect that?

+82 010 2000 0914
then why are you telling me you can't sleep?

+82 010 1025 1998
wanted to check if u’d like ur new nickname MI~ NO~ RING~~
besides, who else can i text? ur friends?
and then i tell them what? do i discuss my late night thoughts about body swapping with a stranger from three years ago?

+82 010 2000 0914
technically if you're posing as me, then u should be sharing thoughts abt swapping skin with a stranger from three years in the future ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ
but maybe try closing your eyes and counting sheep

+82 010 1025 1998
that never works for me
but really, do u really never wonder why this started happening to us?

+82 010 2000 0914
sometimes, but there's no logical reason so i don't stress myself over it
at least we swap back every time. an occasional day in ur shoes isn't unbearable
there are worse things life could throw my way im sure

+82 010 1025 1998
thats true, u get to spend days as me after all and not everyone has the privilege ;)
im the only other person in that exclusive club ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

+82 010 2000 0914
… i take it back, where do i turn in my club card?

+82 010 1025 1998
life said no take backs!!!

•••

+82 010 2000 0914
han jisung we'll probably be back in our own bodies as usual when we wake up in the morning so i’ll say this now… merry christmas!!

+82 010 1025 1998
ㅋㅋㅋㅋ happy christmas eve minoring!!

•••

+82 010 1025 1998
so its a few days into the new year now… that means ur an adult now

+82 010 2000 0914
huh your age when we first started randomly switching ㅋ

+82 010 1025 1998
so have u had ur first drink yet
i had mine at the strike of midnight last year with channie hyung and binnie hyung

+82 010 2000 0914
maybe i have

+82 010 1025 1998
i bet u got wasted on half a bottle of soju

+82 010 2000 0914
is that what happened to you? maybe i should drink while in your body ㅋㅋㅋ

+82 010 1025 1998
excuse you i can hold my alcohol fine! i’ve had a year's worth of practice over u
my body will maintain that tolerance!!

+82 010 2000 0914
u really never drank before u became an adult?

+82 010 1025 1998
of course not im a very good boy

+82 010 2000 0914
ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ even before, my father would occasionally let me have a couple of shots of soju when he drinks at home so u dont really have a year over me when it comes to alcohol

+82 010 1025 1998
wow
lee minho, a true delinquent

•••

+82 010 1025 1998
minoring!! we got the results of ur college admission today—i didnt even realise u already took the test?
but i guess its lucky it didnt happen on one of my days because YOU GOT IN!! ure now officially an incoming urban dance freshman at yonsei conservatory
we should celebrate!

+82 010 2000 0914
wait, really? i did? thats such a relief

+82 010 1025 1998
relief??? thats what ure feeling?? ㅍㅇㅍ u should be more excited!!

+82 010 2000 0914
i am!

+82 010 1025 1998
u dont sound it ㅠㅠ meanwhile im practically jumping up and down here. im so happy for u! now go and eat cake to celebrate! later after school im gna do the same and im gna make hyunjin pay for it ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ
gotta go for now! the guys are asking for help with the calculus worksheet—ure welcome for pulling your calculus average up ㅎㅁㅎ

•••

+82 010 1025 1998
hey minoring do u believe in superpowers? given a choice would u go for teleportation or telekinesis? hyunjin and i were debating this earlier
his lazy ass wanted to be able to move things with his mind
my lazy ass chose teleportation bc it means i can stay in bed for as long as i can before work
and then i realised i should be thinking as you ㅋㅋ

+82 010 2000 0914
neither actually
but it would be super cool to be able to read minds
wouldn't it be fun to know what my cats are thinking every time i come to see them?

+82 010 1025 1998
WHAT ㅎㅎㅎㅎㅎㅎㅎㅎㅎㅎㅎㅎㅎㅎㅎ
of all the reasons that's why?? ure so weird

+82 010 2000 0914
am i? thats ok bc that just means im unique
which also just means im special ㅋㅋ

+82 010 1025 1998
well if u say so ㄱㅅㄱ
but since we're on the topic i have a secret

+82 010 2000 091
what, are u gonna tell me that u can actually read minds? teleport? turn invisible???

+82 010 1025 1998
nope, nah and no. invisibility at will would be cool though
there are times when i feel like i could use it to so i can just turn off and recharge
but that's not what i was gna say
the thing is… when i make wishes they come true
does that count as a superpower?

+82 010 2000 0914
depends. what kind of wishes do you make?

+82 010 1025 1998
u dont think im making it up?

+82 010 2000 0914
han jisung im in your body right now, texting you while you're in my body, and existing in the past that's technically my present
nothing is impossible so why would i doubt your words?
so just answer — what kind of wishes do you make that come true?

+82 010 1025 1998
just little things. like whenever i would wish to eat something very specific i would come home and find that mom made that meal even though she has never made it before
or id wish for the person i have a crush on to look my way and the teacher would assign them in a group with me… little things like that!!

+82 010 2000 0914
you've never wished for anything bigger? maybe if you wish for world peace the north and south will finally reunite ㅋㅋ

+82 010 1025 1998
ha! i did try wishes with bigger stakes a few times…
and that's how i learned that wishes can be a very dangerous thing

+82 010 2000 0914
what do you mean

+82 010 1025 1998
just… u cant always have what u want and life has a way of reminding u that… i dont rly use the power anymore

+82 010 2000 0914
how cryptic han jisung hmmm

+82 010 1025 1998
is it? ㅋㅋㅋㅋ i guess i was just thinking abt it bc of our situation
is it really ok to keep going like this? are there really no consequences?
just food for late night thought

•••

+82 010 2000 0914
remember when you told me your little wishes came true?
i have something like that, too

+82 010 1025 1998
ur wishes come true as well????

+82 010 2000 0914
not that exactly but my mood always affects the weather
does that count?

+82 010 1025 1998
affect the weather how

+82 010 2000 0914
it always rains when im sad or angry or frustrated
whenever im ‘under the weather’ ㅋㅋㅋ
i don't have control of it so maybe its coincidental but jisun said to me once that its a kind of superpower
it was raining today and i remembered our last conversation

+82 010 1025 1998
oh is anything really coincidental though?
i agree with jisun!! its a kind of superpower!!!
speaking of jisun do u think she likes u

+82 010 2000 0914
WHAT??? first you think jiwon was my gf and now…
yah han jisung are u out of your mind

+82 010 1025 1998
ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ no no hear me out!
i didnt realise this at first bc jiwon is noisy and is always around you but bc i have very astute observational skills ive noticed that jisun is actually very close w u in a way thats different from how the two of you are close with jiwon

+82 010 2000 0914
its because she likes jiwon and im the only one who knows
im surprised that with your VERY ASTUTE observational skills u missed that

+82 010 1025 1998
YAH!!! but.. really?? jisun likes girls?? does jiwon too?

+82 010 2000 0914
eh well specifically she likes jiwonie
jiwon, on the other hand has a crush on a new boy every week

+82 010 1025 1998
that does seem to be the case…
how about u minoring~ is there anyone u like???? ill be ur wingman!!!
um… even if it's a boy it doesnt matter i’ll sniff em out for u

+82 010 2000 0914
SNIFF WHAT OUT ㅎㅎㅎㅎㅎㅎ
i appreciate the offer but even if there was someone i dont have time to like them
maybe there's someone i like talking with but it ends there

+82 010 1025 1998
WHO??? im telling u ill help u out ㅋㅋ

+82 010 2000 0914
and im telling you it doesnt matter, there isn't anything i can do about it

+82 010 1025 1998
i really wouldnt mind if u liked a boy minoring~

+82 010 2000 0914
but (AND THIS IS PURELY HYPOTHETICAL) they could mind that im a boy

+82 010 1025 1998
well its truly their loss
u know… i used to have a big FAT crush on channie hyung

+82 010 2000 0914
wait what huh

+82 010 1025 1998
ARE U SURPRISED? ㅋㅋㅋㅋ
just… sharing since we were… sharing ;;;
it was when we first met but the thought really weirds me out now bc he's truly like an older brother to me
ive never told anyone this minho, just u
not even changbin and that's probably a good thing bc i think the two of them have something going on
they havent told me bc i think they're still trying to figure it out — chan hyung only had girlfriends before, i think?
i understand why theyre keeping it from me but it makes me feel lonely sometimes

+82 010 2000 0914
ive noticed that a little actually – with the two of them. like they have a secret only they know
i wonder if jiwonie feels that with me and jisun…
but han jisung dont feel too lonely!
theyll eventually tell you but for now, when u think ure being left out, just remember that u will always have a secret with me
just ours, a secret that no one else will ever understand ㅋㅋ

•••

+82 010 2000 0914
eyy han jisung do you believe in heaven and hell

+82 010 1025 1998
what? why this suddenly? why are u being so random??

+82 010 2000 0914
just something that came to mind
arent we always random? ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

+82 010 1025 1998
thats true ㅋㅋㅋㅋ
well do YOU believe in heaven and hell minoring~

+82 010 2000 0914
i asked first you don't get to copy my answer

+82 010 1025 1998
i heard somewhere that hell isnt the fire and brimstone people assume it to be
hell is reliving the same life over and over and over and ov—

+82 010 2000 0914
huh. interesting but—
what if you lived a good life?

+82 010 1025 1998
then u dont rly go to hell in that case right??

+82 010 2000 0914
whats heaven like then?

+82 010 1025 1998
wouldnt we both like to find out!!!!

+82 010 2000 0914
true enough ㅎㅎ

+82 010 1025 1998
yah minoring

+82 010 2000 0914
yah han jisung

+82 010 1025 1998
i just want u to know that i really enjoy talking with u ㅋㅋㅋㅋ

+82 010 2000 0914
oh. well. you arent so bad urself han jisung
ㅎㅎ;;

•••

+82 010 2000 0914
han jisung!! chan hyung booked you guys a gig at Club TMT!! thats so cool

+82 010 1025 1998
whoa whoa whoa WHOA WAIT rly???!?!?!?!?

+82 010 2000 0914
yeah! chan and changbin just got here at the cafe and told me (you)!! congrats jisungie!

+82 010 1025 1998
oh boy oh wow oh damn ;;;; thanks but now im so nervous
this is gonna be our first live club gig
if i don't count street busking

+82 010 2000 0914
dont be! ㅋㅋㅋ this feels a little like deja vu except im the one jumping w excitement in your skin
have you ever performed for a crowd before, jisungie? it's exhilarating u will love it
when i dance, i block everything out and focus on myself — i focus on that high i get when i perform. you'll understand what i mean! just focus on the feeling it gives you!

+82 010 1025 1998
ah objectively i know this? but i think i needed someone to tell me anyway
so thank you

+82 010 2000 0914
kinda wish i could be there to see u perform. ...and i dont mean in your body
i mean in the crowd haha

+82 010 1025 1998
maybe one day minoring~ (~￣³￣)~

•••

+82 010 1025 1998
happy graduation minoring~
sorry u couldnt experience the ceremony urself ㅠㅠ

+82 010 2000 0914
thats ok i hope you took a lot of pictures tho

+82 010 1025 1998
TOO MANY PICTURES ㅠㅠ
i think i even took some with people u arent friends with
i also think i inadvertently rejected a confession from a junior??

+82 010 2000 0914
WHAT?

+82 010 1025 1998
yeah this girl from the dance club asked to meet behind the gym but i said i was in a hurry
I PANICKED IVE NEVER RECEIVED A CONFESSION BEFORE I WOULDNT HAVE KNOW WHAT TO SAY

+82 010 2000 0914
really? even when you were in high school?

+82 010 1025 1998
never.. i wasnt exactly the most popular kid
i barely got obligatory friendship chocolates during valentines

+82 010 2000 0914
i find that hard to believe when...

+82 010 1025 1998
when im so charming and loveable am i right?? ㅋㅋㅋ

+82 010 2000 0914
hmmmm (:

+82 010 1025 1998
yah what kind of answer is that!!
anyway i left u a little something on ur ipod consider it my graduation gift for you ㅋㅋ

•••

+82 010 2000 0914
han jisung ive been waiting for over a week to say this
thank you for the graduation playlist you made me
its all i listen to most days… it really does make me look forward to tomorrow

+82 010 1025 1998
ㅋㅋㅋ im quite talented at putting together playlists
ill make u more next time
we havent been switching as much as we used to tho, have we…
do u think eventually it'll just… stop?

+82 010 2000 0914
ㅋㅋ wouldnt that be a good thing?

+82 010 1025 1998
ah ure right of course ㅎㅎ

+82 010 2000 0914
btw if you open my computer you'll see a bunch of bookmarks for apartment listings
ive been looking for places in seoul and everything is so expensive i might just stay at a goshiwon for my first year in college
just telling you this bc… im moving soon! so just in case.. maybe the next time we swap you’ll wake up somewhere new and completely unfamiliar

•••

+82 010 1025 1998
damn its been even longer than the last time

+82 010 2000 0914
two weeks… did you miss being me that much han jisung? ㅋㅋㅋ

+82 010 1025 1998
tch i was just waiting to tell u thanks for the packed lunch u made for me last time

+82 010 2000 0914
ㅋㅋ consider it thanks for the playlist!

+82 010 1025 1998
but that was ur graduation gift…
it was really good btw ;;; i didnt realise u were such a good cook

+82 010 2000 0914
jisungie i live by myself… cooking is a necessary skill ㅋ

+82 010 1025 1998
after that changbin hyung whined for days abt me (you) only preparing it for myself tho
ah, so annoying!

+82 010 2000 0914
hold up i also made an entire pot of jjigae for all of you to share!

+82 010 1025 1998
that was delicious too but now they expect me to be able to cook all the time ㅠㅠ
especially after chan hyung admitted it tasted even better than what he makes...

+82 010 2000 0914
ㅎㅎㅎㅎㅎ
well maybe its time to learn to cook for real han jisung

•••

+82 010 1025 1998
ur new apartment is even smaller than the last…

+82 010 2000 0914
living in seoul is much more expensive
at least its only two bus stops away from school

+82 010 1025 1998
how long has it been this time for u?

+82 010 2000 0914
since we were last each other?
a little over two weeks…

+82 010 1025 1998
ur face looks smaller these days minoring...less baby fat
what if we really just stop switching?
for some reason, the thought makes me sad… its silly isnt it?
hey minho, do u still want to meet?

Chapter Text

Whenever Minho wakes up feeling less cramped in a twin bed, as opposed to his much less spacious single, that's how he immediately knows. The pink and orange stars decorating the ceiling is the second indicator, and the complete messiness of the tiny bedroom overall is what seals the deal. 

The first time he had woken up in Jisung’s bedroom—in Jisung's body—he had immediately thought of it as reminiscent of a pig sty. Once he even tried cleaning up—at the very least he stacked some books on the table and picked up dirty clothes off the floor to throw them into the hamper, but the next time he and Jisung switched again, the room was easily back to its original state. Minho gave up after that, and these days he's so used to it that the mess feels more like organized chaos instead.

He has been sporadically living day long pockets of Jisung’s life for close to a year now, and still, neither of them have an explanation for the hows and whys of it. Despite what he tells Jisung about not being bothered by the phenomenon, he does wonder about the situation from time to time—is there a trigger? Is there a reason why it's the two of them? He never has an answer that makes sense, so he pretends not to care and in the end he tries not to question any of it.

It's clearly magic, or at least supernatural. He figures if they're meant to understand it, they will. Eventually.

The smell of food wafts in through the small space under the bedroom door, and he figures that it's one of those days that Chan is in a bright enough mood to cook. This isn't always the case—and Minho can't blame him considering the hours he keeps. 

“‘Morning,” he sleepily mumbles in greeting as he walks out of Jisung's room. His two roommates, unsurprisingly, are already seated at the table, looking like they're in deep discussion about something, only to quiet down immediately when they notice Jisung’s (Minho's) presence.

Minho groans mentally; this clearly means that they still haven't let Jisung into the loop of whatever is going on between them. Jisung is a better person than he is, because he would have called them out a long time ago, but Jisung did say that Chan only had girlfriends before and that maybe he's still figuring things out. Minho has never had girlfriends or boyfriends before, so even though he's been witness to the weird, subtle flirtation between Jisung's roommates for many months now, he’d digress.

“You're up early,” Changbin comments, picking at kimchi as Minho takes the seat across from him at the tiny table. “Didn't you have a late night? We figured you wouldn't be up until almost lunch time.”

Minho shrugs. Obviously he has no idea what Jisung was up to the night before (probably had a shift at Ministop, he guesses), and Minho has learned that it is always best to play it safe and oblivious when these swap days start out. He's pretty good at picking up context clues, at least—or, well, he's gotten better at it by now.

“I just have the café today, right?” he asks even though Jisung has long taken up the habit of marking the kitchen calendar with his daily schedules. He didn't always used to do this, but it was an idea Minho suggested and Jisung had made the adjustment so that things could be easier for both of them. Nevertheless, there are still occasional minor adjustments that he forgets to note and warn for, like one time when he agreed to switch with someone from the café’s morning shift because Chan had managed to score them free studio time that coincided with his work hours. And there was another time when Jisung had already called out of work the night before because he was supposed to go with Changbin to visit his older sister who had just given birth—Minho had ended up making Changbin wait for him for almost two hours that day.

Changbin only shrugs in response to him, but Chan makes a point of glancing at the calendar pinned to the fridge, before nodding in confirmation.

“Yeah,” he voices out, “and then this evening we have three hours of studio time booked. Make sure you have those lyrics we asked you to write.”

Minho tries not to wince too visibly. Brainstorming at the studio is something that he's never really excited for if only because he’s afraid he might fuck things up for Jisung. He isn’t very lyrical with words, and he knows absolutely nothing about producing and composing music. The upside, though, is he gets to hear the music that Jisung has been working on with Chan and Changbin even though he always needs to pretend that he isn't hearing any of it for the first time, and he always has to try and be critical instead of being naturally in awe, because even though he isn't familiar with how to make music, he's still a dancer who knows good music when he hears it.

“What time? The usual?”

“Yeah,” Chan answers. “It's your night off at Ministop, right?”

“Uh, okay.” Minho nods; he assumes Chan is right about his schedule. 

He’s quick to finish scarfing down the rest of the food that Chan had served him with, and he quickly washes his share of the dishes before he disappears back to Jisung's room. Frankly it should be strange how easy he has settled into Jisung's life; there was even a time when he thought he would never get used to this, yet here he is, knowing exactly how to navigate a life that isn't his own.

He reaches under Jisung's pillow for the latter's phone because he knows that Jisung has a habit of shoving it in there before he sleeps. His phone is a Samsung model that hadn't existed yet when this whole body swapping ordeal had started happening—it has a lot more features than Minho's lowly AnyCall flip phone and it had taken him a hot minute to figure out the touch screen. Maybe the newness of the technology should have clued Minho in, but then he has never been the type to be updated with gadgets and the like. He assumed Jisung was one of those early adopter techies or whatever.

He types a quick greeting that he sends for Jisung, playfully berating him for the way that his bedroom has turned into a sty again, and then he checks the date. It has been a little over two weeks in Jisung's time as well—two weeks since he last occupied Jisung's body.

At Blueprint, he manages a slow afternoon by himself until Jeongin arrives fresh from school. The banter with the young boy is easy—he's a year behind at school because of reasons that Minho has yet to learn the reason for and so technically they're the same age even though Jeongin obviously doesn't know that.

Most days Minho would ask Jeongin about his friends—about the second year girl he has a crush on, or sometimes he'd even help Jeongin with his worksheets. It's easy for Minho because he just graduated, and Jeongin's lessons are fresh in his memory.

“Hey Innie,” Minho starts, curious about something else today. “What do you think of me?”

Jeongin, who was busy arranging the pastry display, looks up at him. “What?” He snorts. “What kind of question is that, hyung?”

“It's a question,” Minho simply answers.

“You're being weird.” Jeongin clicks his tongue and goes back to arranging the stacked muffins behind the glass counter.

Minho laughs because truthfully, he's used to hearing this about himself—as Lee Minho. Not for the first time, he wonders if Jisung hears a lot of the same. “Am I?” he asks.

“Mhm,” Jeongin hums in agreement. “Is it your old age?”

“Yah! We're only a year apart!” That's what Jeongin is—a year younger than Jisung. As for themselves, Minho supposes that technically they're officially born three years apart, even though at the moment they're both 20 years old. It's confusing, and probably pointless to ponder.

Jeongin laughs. “I said what I said, hyung!” he playfully teases. “What's with this line of questioning anyway?”

Minho isn't sure how to answer. All he knows is that all day he has had Jisung constantly running circles in his thoughts. More so than usual, almost as if he's half expecting something big to happen—something more out of the ordinary than this body swapping phenomenon that they've grown accustomed to over the last several months. It’s almost as if Minho is expecting a shift of some sort. Whatever it is, it's making him anxious to learn more about Han Jisung, now or never—like he would need something to hold on to before whatever shifts, does so.

“Take it as it is,” he says. “What's your first impression of me, versus your actual impression of me now?”

“Hyung, where is this train of thought headed?” Jeongin frowns and glances at him, clearly confused.

“Just humor me,” Minho presses. “In exchange I’ll buy you your favorite snack during break.”

Jeongin groans. “Okay, fine,” he caves. “I guess for starters… you weren't— aren't so bad. When I first started working here I was really grateful towards you because you were really nice and accommodating and you helped me learn the ropes. I wouldn't know how to make a macchiato if not for you.” Jeongin laughs. “Was that the kind of answer you were looking for?”

Minho sucks on his teeth, pausing before grinning and asking further, “What about now?”

“Now I find you exhausting.” Jeongin rolls his eyes but there's a twinkle of mischief reflected in them that's proof enough he means the opposite of what he just said.

Minho laughs and pinches his cheek.

“It's because you do things like that!” Jeongin whines while swatting Minho's (Jisung's, really) hand away. “Honestly though,” Jeongin huffs as he rubs his face. “Sometimes it's like you have a split personality, hyung. There are days when you're quieter than usual, and you keep to yourself—almost like you have a transparent wall surrounding you, and I don't really know how to approach you.”

Minho hums in contemplation. Initially he wonders if the divide that Jeongin senses is because of the days he spends as Jisung — and then it dawns on him that maybe it's more from the fact that Jisung has days which he prefers to lay low; days he prefers to be invisible to others so he can recharge. He remembers a passing conversation with the other, when Jisung had implied his need for those kinds of days. It's strange, the random things that Minho recalls from their conversations.

Because of those, in some ways he feels like he knows Jisung so well, even though the truth of it is Jisung is still largely a stranger in most other ways. He knows Jisung from the things Jisung has told him about himself — he knows the way Jisung thinks, knows the things that Jisung thinks about. He even knows Jisung through his music—through lyrics that seem to seek him out, and through melodies that make Minho uncharacteristically feel a variety of emotions. But he doesn't know Jisung’s habits; the little things he does that completes him—tiny actions that maybe Jisung himself doesn’t really realise about himself.

He thinks about whether Jisung also thinks about him similarly; curiously, wondrously. Minho played it cool when Jisung brought it up once—why them? How are they connected? Minho doesn’t like pondering over questions that don’t have set or immediate answers; if something isn't set in concrete (a lot like math), then he prefers going with the flow, and accepting things as they are. Jisung makes him wonder, though.

“Hyung?” Jeongin waves a hand in front of him. “You're going off to another planet again!”

“Oh.” Minho chuckles and forcibly shakes himself out of his reverie. “Sorry.”

Jeongin laughs. “It’s alright, hyung. But you've been doing that a lot lately,” he pauses, looking cautious and uncertain. “I know I’m younger but if there's anything you need to talk about, you know you can tell me, right?”

Minho softens; he wonders what it is that has been on Jisung’s mind recently that Jeongin has felt the need to point this out. He grins and he reaches over to fondly ruffle the younger boy's hair, only to have Jeongin huffing and puffing at him in turn.

“Ugh!” Jeongin whines, swatting at him. “Or maybe not!”

There was one time, when Minho had gone to Seoul with a few friends from the dance club because there was a dance exhibition that they all got tickets for. After the show was over, it was agreed that they were going to explore Seoul a little and make the most of their day off from school. One of them had heard about a trendy restaurant that just opened at Itaewon and everyone had clamored about wanting to eat there. Minho, having his priorities laid elsewhere, told them that he would simply catch up with them because there was something else that he needed to do.

He had long ago learned where Jisung had graduated high school—it wasn't a secret, not when Jisung had his yearbook laying around his mess of a room. All Minho needed to do was to look up its address and figure out a way to get there, and neither was exactly hard to learn thanks to the internet. The school was only one bus ride, five stops away, from where the dance exhibition was held—lucky him.

He had second guessed himself a few times during the commute there—was he being a stalker? Stalker adjacent? Jisung had seemed wary of figuring out a way for the two of them to meet, and Minho respected that. They were technically strangers, after all. Moreover, the Jisung who still went to high school in Minho's present had no idea who Minho even was.

Still, his curiosity was left unsatiated and it was frustrating, to say the least. So Minho promised himself that he only wanted a look; that he only wanted to satisfy his wonder—to make sure that Han Jisung existed in this world. That Han Jisung was real.

The universe was on his side because he ended up not even having to do much. When he stepped off the bus, the first person he spotted was Han Jisung himself, walking up the sidewalk, headed towards him—or, presumably, the bus stop. He was even smaller than he seemed whenever Minho saw his figure through the mirror; he was wearing glasses, much like the ones Minho owned, although his cheeks were less full than Minho remembered them being. He was clad in his school's summer uniform, a short sleeved white polo paired with black slacks, not much different from what Minho usually wore himself.

He was walking with Changbin, who Minho immediately recognised as well even though he was also a much scrawnier version of the Changbin he was familiar with. He remembered that right there, right then, they were both actually younger than him. It made him smile and he almost lifted a hand so he could greet them, but they both just passed by him with not even a hint of recognition. Clearly, he was nothing but a stranger in their eyes.

It pricked at his heart but he understood; it wasn’t as if he expected anything else. Besides, they seemed to be deep in discussion over something – the new Mighty Mouth release, Minho figured from the snippets of conversation he heard.

Seeing them—seeing Jisung especially—initially made him smile. His existence felt like relief to Minho, but then something ugly had stirred in his chest and a tinge of sadness slowly spread through him. He wanted to talk to Jisung, to introduce himself, to get to know each other, to greet him like old friends—all of that in the present, but he couldn’t.

And then he felt something wet on his cheek and when he looked up, he realised that rain had slowly started to pour. He wasn’t even surprised.

Hey Minho do you still want to meet?

These are the words that come in that evening when Minho is waiting to fall asleep; when he and Jisung are texting back and forth like they always do on these nights when they’re living each other's lives—the only time the universe somehow lets them communicate.

Yes, he answers immediately, glad that in the dimness of Jisung’s bedroom, no one is witness to the surge of excitement he feels as his fingers fly over the confusing touch screen of Jisung’s newfangled phone. Let's set a time and date.

The place where Minho resides, now that he’s in college and based in Seoul, is tiny. It’s only half the size of the place where he lived in Gimpo, and that’s saying something because the studio apartment he used to rent wasn’t exactly grand. In Seoul, he could only afford a room at a goshiwon, but at least it’s quite close to his university campus. He doesn't need to be in it a lot, anyway—he only needs a place to rest and to turn in at night. He figures that after a year, he can just move somewhere else where he would at least have his own kitchen and a private toilet.

The only times when it gets annoyingly cramped is when Hyunjin visits, because the boy has a habit of inviting himself to sleep over. Minho always pretends to want to kick him out—it isn’t as if Gimpo is too far away a commute and Hyunjin can easily drag his own ass back home—but at the end of the day, he genuinely considers Hyunjin to be one of his dearest hoobaes and Minho is unable to say no when he comes to Seoul for the sake of hanging out.

Besides, it's nice to have him every so often because he makes Minho feel a little less homesick. It’s true that Gimpo isn’t very far away and if he really wanted to, he could easily hop on a bus or a taxi and visit for an afternoon—but he doesn't. Just like before, his days are filled with work and dance training and classes. He barely has time to breathe, which is why Hyunjin’s visits are a welcome respite.

This is one of those days when Hyunjun is visiting and attempting to be all up in his business. He has declared that he’s sleeping over, so they’re tightly cramped in the room, with Minho sprawled on his small bed, and Hyunjin on the floor, resting his back against the wall. They’re sharing a six pack of flavored beer between the two of them—which technically Hyunjin, as a minor, shouldn’t be having, but who is Minho to judge when he himself first had alcohol when he was only 17?

“What are you smiling at?” Hyunjin asks, leaning over to peer at him close.

Minho snaps out of his thoughts and glares at him. “Nothing that's your business,” he deadpans.

Minho sighs; here is the thing: he hadn't even noticed his own expression. He didn't even know that he had been smiling randomly, like an idiot. As usual, though, it’s because Jisung had been in his thoughts—he had briefly been reminded of the other boy’s assumption that Minho had waited for new year’s eve to drink alcohol. A naively funny assumption, because Jisung had admitted to having done that, wait. Which is even funnier, knowing that Jisung is technically the same age as Hyunjin, who is drinking with him now. They were born the same year, at least.

His days as Han Jisung, much like Hyunjin’s random visits, had provided Minho with an escape from his own life. Jisung had his own time management issues, of course—he was just as busy with his multiple part-time jobs, and just like Minho he chose to have a lot on his plate so he could look forward to a life chasing after a specialised passion. Nevertheless, there was still excitement in them—the chance to go through someone else’s routine. Maybe because it was someone else’s life, and the grass is always greener on the other side, or so they say.

Unfortunately, these days have recently been happening fewer and further in between. It has been weeks since he last spent a day as Han Jisung; maybe that’s also why the boy keeps running around Minho’s thoughts more than usual recently.

He’s glad, at least, that Jisung has given him something to look forward to. 2012 is so far away, but the date has already been marked on his calendar—the day that they had finally set; the day when they’re supposed to meet in the flesh.

He envies Jisung—for him the fateful day is only a month away, but to Minho it feels like forever away, with years to wait. Still, the thought makes him giddy.

Hyunjin squints, and a teasing smile curves on his lips. He can be pretty persistent, which Minho supposes is both strength and failing on his part. “Come on, hyung!”

Minho wrinkles his nose. “Do you believe in magic?” he asks Hyunjin instead.

Hyunjin blinks at him; he never has gotten used to the random segues and detours Minho takes during conversations. “I think you're already drunk hyung,” he accuses with laughter.

Minho shrugs. He's very sober (what they’re having barely has three percent alcohol, and even though he doesn’t have the best tolerance he isn’t that weak), but he’s also used to Hyunjin being like this. To Hyunjin finding detached amusement in the strange way Minho’s brain works.

‘You're weird.’ ‘You’re strange.’ ‘I don't understand you.’ 

He oftens hears these from Hyunjin—from most of his friends, even, and he's used to it. He knows they never mean it in a rude or demeaning way, it’s only that they really don’t know how to react to him sometimes. Jisung tells him these things too, but it’s somehow different when they come from him because he always humors Minho’s strange and random thoughts anyway; perhaps that’s because Jisung’s own brain seems to operate in unique ways as well.

“It’s a straightforward question, Hyunjin-ah. Do you believe in magic?” he repeats.

Minho can practically see the knobs in Hyunjin’s brain turn, as if he's trying to come up with an answer that he thinks will please Minho. “Are we talking magic like card tricks? Rabbit out of a hat?”

Minho laughs and shakes his head. “Never mind,” he says, dropping it with a chuckle and a swig of his drink.

“Hey hyung, do you think I can get into the same program as you?” Whenever Hyunjin changes the topic of conversation, you can tell that it’s less random, and more something that he has been working his way into bringing up. This time is no different; Minho is also used to it.

He snorts and finally, Minho forces himself to step away from his thoughts of Han Jisung; from thoughts—almost daydreams—of a date (can he even call it that?) that is three long years away, so he can entertain the guest that he has right now.

“Hmmm, you’re really hell-bent on following me around aren't you?” Minho is only teasing, of course, and Hyunjin laughs accordingly, but there's a flush on his cheeks that isn't necessarily from alcohol.

Minho isn’t stupid. Hyunjin is a pretty boy, sweet and fun to be around, and he has numerous girls falling all over his feet back in their high school. Even then, he always chose Minho’s company over others—because he admires Minho’s dancing, he always said. Because he wanted to learn how to dance, just as Minho does. Even through the excuse, Minho has long figured out that Hyunjin might be harboring a crush. He values the boy, but he doesn’t want to lead him on.

It’s not leading him on if you actually give him a chance. This is what Jisun (who also goes to university in Seoul, and is the only other person from home that Minho regularly meets up with) has more than once told him. She says she likes Hyunjin for him, and Minho just tells her that pronouncements like that are only easy for her to say now that she has moved on from Jiwon (who is happily attending university in Busan), and has found herself a sweet girlfriend in college. He reasons that she probably wouldn’t have appreciated it if Jiwon had given her a chance for the sake of a chance—and not because of the possibility of real feelings. Jisun always shakes her head at him and tells him that’s vastly different—that she wouldn’t have minded a chance like that if Jiwon wasn’t extremely, painfully heterosexual, which Minho isn’t—and then she never fails to point out that Minho isn’t even trying to move on from anyone, and that it’s plain unhealthy to blindly throw himself at work like he’s been doing.

Minho never knows how to explain that no, he isn’t moving on from anyone but rather, he’s moving towards someone.

Just like that, his thoughts have inexplicably, yet naturally been drawn back to Jisung. He’s a hopeless fucking case, really.

He sighs and turns to Hyunjin with a faint smile curved on his lips. “You’re a hard worker, and a skilled dancer,” he tells the boy. It isn’t a lie—Hyunjin improves quickly, and he has natural charisma in spades. “But if you work hard enough, you can get into even better places,” he adds, averting his gaze under the pretense of taking another gulp of beer. “You should aim higher.”

Almost a month passes, and Minho remains in his body; this means almost a month passes without him and Jisung exchanging even quick greetings over text. He isn’t normally a very anxious person, but the lack of communication makes something ache inside him.

Nonetheless, he goes with the flow. He lives his life and he tries not to miss a person that he hasn’t even really met. 

But there are days that are harder than others; days that make him feel like he’s suffocating from his own relentless routine—and then there are days when the monotony is broken with more misfortune that makes the idea of a brief escape from his own life seem even more appealing.

Today, for one—frankly, Minho has been having a very shitty day so far. That morning, at the dance studio, while polishing choreography, he landed wrong on his feet and he ended up spraining his right ankle. 

“It isn’t so bad,” the doctor had promised him, doing his robotic best to sound reassuring. All Minho needed to do was not be on his feet too much for a week or so—which meant taking a break from dancing for a week or so. Maybe he would have felt reassured if he wasn’t a dance major with a showcase coming up, but he is a dance major, and not only is it crunch time for an upcoming showcase, it's an upcoming showcase where he had earned the right to have a solo—which he’ll have to give up now.

When he hobbles out of the university clinic, it’s no surprise that it’s already pouring hard.

Sometimes when he's feeling really under the weather, Minho goes to the café where he knows Jisung works. 

The first time he had gone there, it was completely by chance—a silly notion, but it certainly felt fated, like the universe meant for him to find his way there. He had just moved to Seoul then, and he had been in the area because of a job posting at a dance studio nearby, and it had taken him a beat or two to recognise the neighborhood from the sporadic days he spends as Han Jisung. He knew that Jisung started working at Blueprint Café during his second year in high school (a small tidbit he had picked up from a passing comment Changbin once made), but even that was briefly forgotten in that moment—his only thought had been that he wanted to get coffee, along with a slice of Chicago cheesecake that he knew to be the café’s specialty.

Except when he stepped into the store, the voice that loudly and enthusiastically greeted him “WELCOME TO BLUEPRINT CAFÉ!” was incredibly familiar. He had immediately glanced towards the counter, and there he was—Han Jisung with his bright, shiny smile that Minho had only ever seen before through mirrors. Apparently it was even more blinding from an outsider’s perspective.

He had returned to the café several more times since then; Jisung wasn't always there, and when he was, Minho always went on his way after buying coffee. It felt strange—not completely right to be observing Jisung in such a one sided manner. His presence gives Minho momentary comfort, but it also makes him uncharacteristically anxious; impatient for their meeting that won't come until three years into the future. So he tries not to be greedy, and he does his best not to bask in Jisung's presence more than necessary.

Today, however, he doesn't know what weighs more: the sum of all the shitty parts of his day, or the relief and comfort that Jisung’s simple existence offers. A smile from the aforementioned boy gives Minho his answer, and after he pays for his order he takes a seat by the window. Outside, the downpour remains steady—clear indication that he still feels like crap. 

An hour goes by—every so often he feels Jisung’s eyes on him, and he feels warm for it. In a way, Jisung's apparent curiosity of him helps him recharge and gain strength. The rain refuses to let up, though, and he knows it's because that longing he constantly feels when he's around the boy has only grown stronger.

Minho, quite frankly, is not a man of many emotions; at least, he’s a man who doesn't show much in his expression. He feels happiness, sadness, anger, frustration—he’s human, after all, and not an emotionless robot, but he’s often been told that his resting expression is soulless at best. He doesn't mind; he's already used to others finding him strange anyway. He can always express himself in his own way.

Lee Minho was 11 when he realised that it was always raining whenever he felt sad—like the universe is joining him in his blues, comforting him through solidarity. He liked it, frankly; he liked the rain a lot. The sky wept for him when he could not, and after the rain is gone, he finds that sadness is always washed away along with it.

Han Jisung, he now realises, is a little like the rain. A source of comfort, yet an element of his own melancholy.

Eventually he decides it's time to pick himself up; time to stop feeling sorry for himself because wallowing will get him nowhere. When he gets up from his seat, Jisung is quick to yell out again, “Thank you for coming! Drop by again soon!”

His words naturally have a smile forming on Minho’s lips, and he glances towards the counter to give the boy a nod. He thinks he notices Jisung maybe get flustered because of that, but as his own ears warm up, he tries not to think much of it.

He walks out of the café, opens his umbrella, and heads towards the crosswalk. The rain is still coming down hard—likely thanks to the thunderous turmoil in his chest—and the pedestrian light across the street is barely visible from where he stands. When he thinks it turns green, he steps off the sidewalk. 

The last thing he remembers is a flash of bright light and the ugly sound of screeching brakes.

Chapter Text

It has been a little over two months since Jisung last woke up in Minho’s body; a little over two months since they finalized plans to meet in the flesh and in real time. Truthfully, Jisung can feel the anxiety slowly creeping in – he wishes he could say it’s because he’s nervous about meeting Minho like he always has been, but truthfully, he has come to regret setting a date that’s so far away.

Admittedly, he had been afraid of meeting the other boy—afraid that meeting Minho will hold no candle to being Minho, but now that reasoning just sounds plain stupid every time he replays it in his head. He really should have just thrown all caution to the wind; should have just said FUCK IT! and suggested they meet the very next day.

So—to be frank, a part of it is also that he’s scared that his screws have slowly been loosening over the past year; that he has gradually been getting unhinged and that Minho is nothing but a figment of his imagination. That his being certifiable is going to be proven when they try to meet and no one shows up.

Also, that: what if Minho just decides that Jisung isn’t worthy of his time? What if he forgets Jisung? The agreed upon date is three years from Minho's time, after all – and now that they can’t even communicate that’s becoming more and more likely. Neither of them understand how this body swap thing works, and for all Jisung knows they'll wake up without a memory of each other instead of as each other.

He hates the thought of that—of going through life without remembering Minho; without remembering his experiences as Minho, even though it isn’t as if he would know any better. And that's kind of silly, isn’t it? To be so attached to someone he has never really met, but it is what it is—it's hard not to feel like you really know someone if you’ve lived in their skin.

Minho always told him that there is no use in stressing over the hows and the whys of their predicament, but Jisung can be naturally curious at times. Mostly, though, he didn't really care about the hows or whys—he was more interested in the who.

Once, he had left a question on Knowledge iN: I keep waking up as somebody else, if you were me what would you do?

It was worded jokingly, and most people took it as such, and the answers ranged from expected (“I’d eat all the carbs cos I don't have to worry abt my own weight!”) to rude (“fuck off with your weirdass fantasies”), to occasionally horny (“Well, the first thing I’d do is masturbate to my reflection especially if I get to to be someone hot”).

There was one person who threw a question right back at him, and somehow, it resonated with Jisung: if you're randomly switching bodies with a stranger, what would you and that stranger be to each other?

So that’s the question that occasionally plagues Jisung. Who is Lee Minho, and why is there a strange sense of comfort in being him? The initial shock of finding himself in someone else’s body had worn off pretty quickly, and the banter formed from just exchanging messages with Minho had felt natural. He had been able to tell Minho things he had never told anyone else, not even Changbin—and it hadn't felt like a big deal. It simply felt like sharing.

It all makes him often wonder—did they know each other in their past lives? (Does he actually believe in past lives? These damn body swapping shenanigans are about to give him an existential crisis—but maybe that’s the point? He would very much like to digress right now, however.)

When he imagines finally meeting Minho, it excites him because he thinks about these ponderings finally getting answered; and then it usually dies down and transforms into frustration as he remembers that he has to wait some more because his own nerves got the best of him.

Today, though, as he crosses off another day on the calendar pinned to their fridge, he lets out a small huff. The stupid ten week waiting period he had burdened himself with is finally over – tomorrow, he finally meets Lee Minho.

“You're looking nice and dapper today,” Chan comments when Jisung walks out of his room looking all dressed up. 

He’s wearing a leather jacket over an oversized statement tee, paired with jeans so tight and skinny he had needed to lay in bed just to pull them on. His hair is teased and gelled to perfection, and he's about to go and put on his white and gold, hi-top rubber shoes that he managed to buy on sale just the week prior.

“Who uses the word dapper in this day and age?” Jisung retorts with a chortle.

“Me.” Chan laughs. “I use it, clearly. But in all seriousness, you look good ‘Sung. Hot date?”

“Um.”

Jisung immediately feels warmth spread across his cheeks; does this count as a date? Would Minho say yes if someone asked him the same question? He only just realised that morning that he would be meeting Minho not as the acne ridden teenager from three years ago whose life he had gotten to know quite intimately, but as… someone older. More mature emotionally, mentally, and very likely physically. He would be the same person, but three years can certainly do a lot to a person, especially if you transition from teen to adult in the span of time. Jisung knows that better than anyone. 

Despite the occasional acne breakout, Jisung would ascertain that Minho had always been quite good looking; a bit round in the face with baby fat, and barely taller than him but he definitely had favorable God given features. Jisung is sure that he himself is a lot more good looking now, at 21, compared to when he was a teen just a few years ago – it would be prudent to assume that time would have been as good to Minho. Even the last time he had been in Minho’s body, he had noticed that Minho's features were already beginning to mature.

Although considering how the thought of Minho somehow growing up to be a sculpted Adonis is making him even more anxious, maybe it isn't right to be overly presumptuous; maybe it would be better if he instead imagines that Minho’s acne has only gotten worse through the years, and that despite being a dancer, he’s somehow become pudgier instead of broader and sturdier. Jisung had found him incredibly attractive when he was younger than him by a year and— hold up.

He groans as his rambling thoughts come to a screeching halt. He really just admitted (albeit only his own head) that he had always found Minho completely attractive. Shouldn't that be a little weird? Was it not narcissistic to have thought so when he only ever saw Minho in the mirror?

Whatever, he mentally inists. I’m just not blind. Besides, he's the first to sing praises about his own good looks so when has he ever cared about being labelled narcissistic?

“I’m meeting a friend,” he clarifies with Chan, but as soon as he says it, more questions come to mind.

Does he want it to be a date? Like that one person online had asked—what are he and Minho to each other? Body swap buddies? Friends? Something with potential for more?

If it was Changbin, he would have teased, probably would have teasingly feigned surprise at Jisung having other friends. But it's only Chan at home, and he gives Jisung a genuine smile and an encouraging pat on the back. “Have fun, then!”

Jisung smiles, nerves are eating him up but it's mixed with an indescribable excitement, and Chan’s well wishing fortunately helps balance it all evenly.

Minho is late.

Truthfully, being close to three hours late probably constitutes Minho being a no-show, but that would be the realisation of Jisung’s worst nightmare so he attempts to give Minho the benefit of the doubt.

Maybe something unexpected came up – he wouldn't know because unfortunately for them they have no way of contacting each other. As the hours tick by, Jisung grows more and more agitated.

They had set Blueprint Café as their meeting place. Jisung had been the one to pick, and this was his choice because it's familiar to him and that had been supposed to help dampen his nerves and anxiety. Instead he feels even more pathetic—especially by the time he enters his sixth hour of waiting and he can feel his co-workers’ pitiful gazes burning through him.

He really wants to run away, yet he can't because a small part of him keeps hoping— expecting that Minho will come rushing in right before closing time, breathless and apologetic and with an explanation that will make everything better.

This, of course, doesn’t happen. When the night shift barista cautiously approaches him to tell him that they’re closing soon, Jisung can only hang his head and admit defeat. He heads home, heart heavy, and he wants to just cry but instead he lets out robotic, mirthless laughter. He’s seated at the back of a near empty bus, but he still earns strange looks. In response, he glares at them all.

He can't believe he manifested the worst outcome ever.

A tangle of thoughts wrack his brain; did this mean that Minho was only a dream? A figment of his imagination? Or did Minho just decide that he doesn't care for Jisung? That he didn't want to bother meeting Jisung? Or—maybe Minho forgot all about him? It’s been three years for him after all. No matter what reason Jisung comes up with though, there is no option that  makes him feel better.

“How was the date?” Changbin greets him cheerfully when he arrives at home.

It's half past midnight, and Jisung can only flip him off in response as he stalks past him straight to his room. Very much undeserved, but Jisung has no energy for anything else. He throws himself onto his bed, face first — he's still in his outdoor clothes, and briefly he can't help but think about how this would get him a scolding from Minho. 

Wash up before going to bed. It’s gross, is something Minho has told him a few times—that it isn't his fault that Minho's packed daily schedule always exhausts him, was his own constant counterargument.

He presses his face against his pillow; he wants to scream but he rubs his cheeks against the soft down instead—and then he tightly closes his eyes because he's already feeling the warm pinprick of tears attempting to escape. He takes a prolonged breath, and when he exhales again, a deep, agonized wail escapes along with it.

His chest feels so tight and heavy and as he's wracked with sobs it only gets worse. What this feeling is, he couldn't even begin to describe. All he knows is that he hates it and that it hurts more than anything else he has ever experienced before.

Jisung had deliberately chosen to set the meeting with Minho on a date that was followed by his day-off. He figured if he had a good time with Minho (and let's be real, despite his supposed reservations, deep inside he expected no less), he wanted to be available to say yes to hanging out again the day after—they had already wasted enough time, after all.

On the other hand, if he didn't like Minho, then he could take his actual day off without feeling like he missed it for naught; if Minho didn't turn up, then Jisung can use said day off to wallow in his shitty feelings. That the last was an option he readied himself for did not mean that's what he wants to be doing.

But here he is now, anyway.

He sighs – he still hasn't gotten out of his bed even though he could infer from the smell of bacon that wafted through the floor clearance of the door earlier that Chan had made western style breakfast. Jisung continues to lay on his mattress, arms and legs spread out starfish style as he stares at the ceiling; this time, instead of the stars, he's tracing the cracks with his gaze. 

His door creaks open and when he glances in its direction, he finds Changbin about to tiptoe into his room.

“Oh.” Changbin’s eyes meet with his, and he presumably decides there's no use being careful—he swings the door open unceremoniously. “You're awake,” Changbin observes rhetorically.

Jisung grumbles something inaudible in response that has Changbin rolling his eyes. They have known each other for ages and he’s pretty used to Jisung having down days like this; they don't faze him anymore.

“I’m looking for my thumb drive,” he explains. “The one shaped like a Munchlax? You borrowed it months ago and never gave it back.”

“Oh yeah.” Jisung sighs heavily, not really wanting to move from his place on the bed. “It’s in my bag,” he says, pointing at his messenger bag that was messily slung across his study chair.

Changbin stares at him and holds out his palm, clearly expecting Jisung to fetch said item for him. He probably has the right to, since it's Jisung who borrowed something from him and forgot to return it for months, but—Jisung scrunches his expression and shakes his head as a silent way of saying no.

His friend and roommate squints at him and then he caves with an exasperated sigh. Changbin stalks over to grab the bag which he then promptly turns upside down to dump its contents at the foot of Jisung's bed. That certainly has Jisung crying out and sitting up in surprise.

“Yah!”

Changbin smirks and swipes the thumb drive he had been looking for as soon as he spots it, and then he tosses the now empty bag at Jisung. “Thanks, bro.”

With a groan, Jisung starts grabbing his things to shove them back into the bag, but something new and unfamiliar catches his eye. It’s a polaroid photo, and he reaches for it curiously, brow furrowed. It turns out to be a self-taken picture of him, but he doesn't remember taking it, so he glances up at Changbin as if expecting that he will have an explanation.

“What's that—?” Changbin takes the photograph and briefly studies it. “Oh! I think I remember the day this is from.” He gives it back. “You came to our room after you came home from your shift at Ministop, and then asked to borrow hyung’s polaroid camera. You didn't specify what for, but this was definitely what you were wearing that night.” He grins cheekily. “I have such great memory recall, no?”

Jisung rolls his eyes. “Whatever,” he says, shooing Changbin away with his hands. “Say that the next time Chan-hyung reminds you to replace the milk and you forget.”

Changbin laughs and sticks his tongue out at Jisung childishly, but he does go to leave the younger's room. When he's finally alone in his room, Jisung studies the picture more. His head is slightly tilted to the side, miraculously highlighting his good side, and he's wearing a wide grin on his face as he pokes his right cheek with a finger. It's a pretty good picture if he does say so himself, but truth be told he's normally pretty bad at taking selcas. Most of his collection of them has him looking muggily at the camera straight on, each one of them taken at the exact same non-angle.

He flips it over, hoping for something that will jog his memory, and a small, but sharp gasp escapes him.

A message is scrawled in familiar chicken scratch handwriting, but it isn't his own penmanship. He quickly hops off his bed and rummages through his desk drawers to look for the post-it notes from the time Minho had cooked kimchi stew for his housemates, and had made packed lunch all for Jisung himself—he finds them easily; they're still there. They exist. He holds up the notes next to the polaroid picture—the handwriting is a clear match.

give this to me when we meet up so id have something to remember (being) you by! - lmh

“Hey hyung, how do you know if you're going crazy?”

Unable to sit still at home by himself with too many thoughts running around his head, Jisung decides that it would be best to tail Changbin where he works at a nearby PC bang as a receptionist. The latter doesn't look very enthused to have him hovering around, but he’s a good friend who entertains Jisung in between signing patrons in and out of their respective computer stations.

“The real crazy people never ask that question,” Changbin answers, glancing at Jisung after he logs in a paying customer who just came in. “So you're still safe from the looney bin. Sorta. Barely.”

Jisung rolls his eyes, but otherwise he ignores Changbin’s jibe. “Well—do you think that it's possible for someone you never met to mean so much to you? Does it make sense to miss someone you have never spent a second with?”

Changbin purses his lips and fixes a stare on Jisung. “What's that got to do with you going insane?”

“Just answer me!” Jisung huffs and gives his friend a light punch on the shoulder. “Humor me.”

“I don't know, ‘Sung. Did you get a penpal or something? Meet someone through Facebook? Should I remind you of the virtues of stranger danger—?”

“Hyung!” Jisung cuts him off with a whine, and Changbin chuckles.

“I don't understand what you're asking when you already know the answer.” Changbin clicks his tongue. “Remember when we were both still in high school and we first met Channie-hyung on Cyworld? He was living in an entirely different country—continent, even! It took us a year before we finally met him when he moved here to Seoul. He meant a lot to us, even before that, didn’t he?”

Jisung snorts. “Pretty sure he means a lot more to you than to me—and vice versa.”

He mentally accedes that their friendship with Chan back in the day might be similar to his friendship with Minho, but only in some ways. For one, neither of them ever had to spend a day in Chan’s skin; and their communication with Chan was always straightforward, back and forth born from mutual interests. Besides, Chan showed up when he said he was going to.

Changbin actually blushes at his retort. “That's not true,” he denies.

“Well,” Jisung shrugs, “pretty sure you mean differently to each other than you do with me.”

He didn't really think he’d bring this up now, of all times, not when he’s busy trying not to short circuit from too many thoughts of Minho, but in a way it's a distraction.

Changbin sighs; Jisung is surprised that he seems resigned and isn't denying it. “Is that weird for you?” he asks instead, quiet, somber.

Jisung tilts his head as if in thought—even though he doesn't really need to think much more about this. It's true that there was a time when whatever Chan and Changbin had going on frustrated him and made him feel left out. But then he realised that he had his own secret that he was keeping from them, and he was content to wait for them to open up to him.

“A little,” he admits, mostly because the sounds he had occasionally heard from their room, as muffled as they are, is enough to give one nightmares. “But if you guys are happy, then—” he shrugs nonchalantly.

“Frankly, we don't know what it is,” Changbin admits. “We haven't really talked about it. Most days we're just roommates—peers and colleagues chasing the same dream, but it's very comfortable when we're together. The other stuff… well, it eases stress.” Changbin ducks his head as if slightly embarrassed, but it earns him a smile from Jisung.

“Being together though, see? Isn't that the keyword? Being together! Physically!”

Changbin groans. “Dude, there are a lot of ways of being together—and if you wanna be together so bad with this stranger danger penpal of yours, then try to figure it out with them instead of whining about it with me?”

Jisung sucks on his teeth. He knows Changbin is right, of course, but how is he supposed to figure things out with someone that he has no way of communicating with? Also, truthfully, maybe he's just trying to find an excuse to stop feeling so damn much for Minho. Being so unceremoniously stood up has really messed with him, and in a weird way it’s easier to rationalise that his feelings couldn't be valid, than to accept that maybe Minho just didn't want to see him.

“Where does this person live anyway?” Changbin inquires.

“Seoul,” Jisung mutters under his breath.

Changbin laughs. “What?!”

“Yeah. I know, right? Shouldn't be much of an ordeal yet it is,” Jisung sighs. “Besides, we also kinda lost contact a couple of months ago.”

“How did that happen? Did he change numbers without telling you? Deactivate his online accounts?”

“It just… did,” Jisung answers lamely.

“Bro, I know this is a city of almost ten million people, but the internet exists. It isn't as hard to look for people these days, especially with Facebook,” Changbin points out.

Jisung blinks. He really is an idiot, because that's just it; he should just look Minho up on the internet. He knows that three to four years ago, Minho most certainly did not have a Facebook account, but Facebook was only starting to become a thing, then. For all Jisung knows, he has since created an account. And even if he didn’t, most people their age leave constant online footprints now. And if it turns out that Minho has never existed outside of Jisung's imagination or he just doesn't want anything to do with Jisung, then it's still better to get some answers, isn't it? At least he would either know if it's time to commit himself to an institution, or he would be given enough reason to completely move forward with his life.

Besides, the more he thinks about it, isn’t the picture Minho left in his bag proof enough that at some point Minho really was in his body? That at some point he looked forward to meeting Jisung as well?

And if Minho didn't stand him up on purpose, then he should be looking for reasons as to why he wasn't there. He has been so stuck self-flagellating and assuming that he's why Minho didn't come that he forgot to consider other probable reasons.

The wheels in Jisung's head are suddenly turning overtime; he’s done wallowing and feeling sorry for himself.

“Hyung, can you cop me an hour on one of the PCs?” he asks Changbin, who just rolls his eyes, logs him in and starts his time.

His initial Facebook search gives him thousands of hits on Lee Minho, because of course it does. It's such an annoyingly common name, and trying Naver Search doesn't help either—he’s automatically directed to the actor Lee Minho’s profile, under which are links to many articles about his upcoming drama.

That makes him laugh a little, though, because Boys Over Flowers had started airing right before Minho graduated high school. He remembers being in his body one day, and Minho's friends teasing him about getting a perm a la Gu Junpyo.

He sighs, and he makes out that the only way to really find Minho is to start from information he already knows, that is, the schools he went to, the jobs he held three years ago, the friends he had—

That’s it, Jisung realises, almost feeling as if a light bulb has turned on above his head. He knows some of Minho's closest friends!

The first person he looks up is Jisun, because he remembers that she also moved to Seoul for university, and he presumes that Roh Jisun wouldn’t have as many hits on Facebook. Sure enough, he finds her familiar face within the first page of results—unfortunately, her profile is locked, and the information viewable publicly lets him know that she seems to be on a study abroad exchange program. He tries to request friendship, but ultimately he moves on to the next person on his list.

Jiwon’s account is semi-public, but all it lets him know that she’s in Busan, getting a degree in marine biology. Interesting, and he marks her as a possible contact if he can't find anyone else who is closer, and living in Seoul.

At this point, he decides to switch his game plan, and he pulls up Twitter instead. More people have been opening accounts there recently, and most of them seem to keep their profiles public.

Just as well, as it only takes a little bit more searching before he lands on the Twitter profile of Hwang Hyunjin. The university listed on his profile is the same one that Jisung knows Minho went to in 2009; Hyunjin was still in high school back then, but he wouldn't be surprised if Hyunjin followed in Minho’s footsteps. A quick perusal allows him to eventually find a picture that Hyunjin posted, and Jisung easily confirms him to be the same Hyunjin he knew.

He winces; he wasn't particularly fond of Hyunjin if only because he was a bit bothered (read: envious) of the way he was always able to be by Minho’s side. Nevertheless, he hits the follow button, surprised but glad when not even two minutes later he gets a notification that Hwang Hyunjin has followed him back.

He doesn't hesitate and he clicks the DM option of Hyunjin's profile. Never mind that he doesn't really know exactly how to start and he ends up typing and erasing at least five different iterations of what he wants to say. Eventually he hits send on a simple “is this the hwang hyunjin that is friends with lee minho?”

He gets a clearly befuddled “?!????!” in response, and Jisung is instantly annoyed even though he also grudgingly admits that Hyunjin can't be blamed. The message was quite random after all, and from a stranger to boot.

“how do you know minho-hyung?” Hyunjin follows up while Jisung takes his sweet time to answer.

“i met him a long time ago,” Jisung eventually types, improvising a fake story as he goes. “at a dance showcase maybe 3 or 4 years ago.”

“oh.” Hyunjin enters carriage space and Jisung stares at the computer screen as he goes on. “ah,” he adds uselessly. “and you lost contact with him after?”

Jisung rolls his eyes; he’s about to type that duh, obviously he did, otherwise he wouldn't be messaging Hyunjin, but he’s beaten to it with more messages from the latter.

“this is a bit awkward,” appears on the screen. “but there's no other way to put it. hyung passed away three years ago. sorry that u had to learn about it like this.”

Jisung blinks at the screen, dumbfounded. He reads the words again, and again, and yet again, but they don't change. What the fuck?

“WHAT????????!!!!!” he types, getting carried away with smashing the question mark and exclamation point keys. “r u fuckimg pullin my leg??!?!?!!!” 

Granted, he knows as soon as he hits send that he was too aggressive, especially considering that Hyunjin was nothing but cordial and polite. He can't help himself though—he's in complete shock.

“excuse me? why the hell would i do that?” There’s obvious impatience and a hint of tightness in Hyunjin’s words now, but Jisung has to give him props for still managing to be a lot more polite than Jisung himself is. “whatever,” Hyunjin continues, “i dont owe u an explanation. u dont even sound like u rly knew hyung.”

That last one hits Jisung straight in the gut; it's really hard to say if he knew Minho. Sometimes it felt like he did—like Minho was as familiar as the back of his hand, but other times it felt like Minho was nothing but a dream, someone he conjured up so he would feel a little less lonely.

“sorry,” he tells Hyunjin. “i was just surprised.”

Hyunjin doesn't really respond after that, and Jisung just grumbles gloomily to himself as he continues to stare at the monitor.

What the fuck? he keeps repeating in his head. His heart is pounding loudly— obtrusively— and he's so confused; so in denial at the news he has just been given.

He draws up Naver again, and once more types Lee Minho in the search bar. This time, he adds related search terms to narrow down the results. Death, he types, heart sinking to his stomach as he does so. 2009, he adds before clicking the SEARCH button.

Several articles come up about a promising young dancer who met his untimely demise when he was unfortunately hit by a truck that skidded down the wet road after its brakes had malfunctioned one rainy afternoon. The date, according to the articles, was 25th of September, 2009—Lee Minho’s third death anniversary had passed almost a month ago.

“FUCK!” he yells, because he doesn't how else to dispel the brewing uneasiness inside him. It doesn't work and instead just earns him looks that range from surprised, to confused, to annoyed – he had completely forgotten that he's at a PC bang, and not the comfort of his own bedroom.

Changbin rushes to him, looking frantic. “What's wrong—what happened?” he asks, clearly worried and Jisung can only grimace in embarrassment.

“Fuck,” he repeats quietly. “I don't know. I think I need some air, hyung.”

When Jisung was a little boy, he used to stay with his grandmother in the countryside for weeks at a time during the summer season. She was a silver haired lady with a mysterious smile, but she always acted kindly and personable. She used to tell Jisung old folk tales at night; stories about the boy who wished for the stars, or the girl who saw the moon reflected in the wishing well. She told him the story of the fairy who grants wishes, and the man who tricked the fairy into marrying him, thinking it meant centuries of wishes come true for his descendants.

Be careful with your wishes, was the collective theme of her stories. Be careful what you wish for, was the message she always whispered to Jisung whenever he left again for Seoul—he never really thought much of it as a boy. She passed away right before Jisung turned 7, and even though Jisung cried ugly tears at her funeral, most of her tales of wisdom were cremated along with her.

When he was 9, he started noticing that most, if not all, wishes that he made were quick to come true. They were mostly small, harmless wishes; like he would wish to have his favorite dish for dinner; or for the leader of the boys at school to become his friend. Once, he wished for more time to finish his art project. What he didn't really note were the little ripple effects his wishes caused – the way his favorite dinner always caused a dent in his parents’ otherwise meticulously planned monthly budget; the way his popular new buddy’s old best friend suddenly became a social pariah overnight; the way his art teacher called out sick for two days, and how even after she came back on the third day, she still looked quite under the weather. These things were not really things that children observed and thought about deeply.

He was 13 when he finally opened his eyes; 13 when he finally started to realise that perhaps his wishes have consequences that he never really intends.

Once, he wished for a pet cat, wished so hard despite knowing how bad his mother’s allergies to cats were. An adult white cat, immediately baptised by him as Hayan, started coming to his window at night. His courtship with the feline had gone on for weeks, until one day he woke up and found that his secret cat and their family dog, Mideumi, had gotten into a scuffle overnight. Mideumi was blinded in one eye, and his parents were simply given a reason to send Hayan away.

There was that time he whined and moaned and finally he just wished to have the new Devil May Cry game, and when his father checked it out for him he couldn't help but notice a boy, a year or two younger than him, looking like he was about to cry while enviously eyeing his purchase because Jisung just got the last available stock of the game. He couldn't help but overhear when the boy’s mother told him he could buy something else with the money he had saved for months.

And of course, there was the time when he was lonely, petulant and frustrated, and he wished that his mother would have more time for him. That night, his mother came home, looking tired and spent; she had a serious conversation with Jisung's father for at least an hour in their bedroom, and starting the day after, she had gone back to being a housewife. Jisung would find out soon enough that she had been laid off from the job she enjoyed so much.

Curious, he had thought throughout these instances. But probably coincidental, he assured himself. Not necessarily related to him or his mundane wishes. Wishful thinking is harmless, he had reasoned. Everyone makes them, and if they come true then it was either through pure luck, or hard work. He just so happened to be luckier than most.

He was 16 when he learned about his father’s affair. It was completely by chance; he had been hanging out with Changbin, the two of them had skipped an entire afternoon’s worth of classes so they could get tickets at an all-ages club at Hongdae because one of their favorite underground acts was rumored to be playing there in a week.

Instead he was met with a view of his own father, exiting an expensive restaurant, a woman – who surely couldn't be more than ten years Jisung's senior – clinging to his arm like a limpet.

“Dude,” Changbin had exhaled shakily, apparently having spotted them as well. “Um. Maybe that's just his secretary?” 

Jisung had winced; like that would make any difference. If anything, it would just make it even more crass.

“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath. It didn't look like his father had spotted them. He was wearing a happy expression, laughing at something the woman with him had apparently whispered to his ear.

Frankly, he wasn't stupid. He knew his parents were having problems; his mother was unhappy having to always be at home, and they were always making digs at each other about money. Jisung didn't think he had seen his father laugh so freely like that at home, at least not in a long while. He hadn't thought much about it; he had assumed that his parents’ problems were their own, and that they would eventually fix them. He thought things were normal.

But maybe not if his father was seeing another woman on the side.

“Fuck,” he repeated shakily, watching as his father helped the woman get into the passenger seat of his car. 

“I wish,” he began, closing his eyes tightly, as if that would help scrub the image from his thoughts. “I wish she didn’t exist ,” he continued, voice soft and whispered, almost inaudible under his breath, yet also firm and decisive.

If she never existed, then she would have never found her way into his father’s life, then maybe his parents' rough patch would continue to be just that—a rough patch that they would eventually overcome. His father wouldn't be laughing—wouldn't look so happy with somebody else that wasn't his family. He was doing mental gymnastics, and even at only 16, Jisung was vaguely aware of this; a small voice kept whispering to him from the back of his head, telling him that his father was as much at fault as the limpet, if not moreso, but—his father was still his father, and that woman, well. Jisung’s life would be a lot better without her existence. Probably.

His gaze followed as his father and his woman drove down the street. As their car approached the large crosswalk, he looked away, nudging Changbin as silent imploration that they should just get going. Before they could start walking away, however, a loud crashing noise erupted, and it pulled his attention back to the crosswalk.

Eyes wide, Jisung's first instinct was to move along with the crowd, towards the accident so he could confirm it more closely.

This was the first time that it really sank in; wishes weren't always a good thing.

His father, after being rushed to the hospital, had broken bones that were surprisingly quick to heal; he was otherwise unscathed. The woman he was with, apparently truly his secretary, wasn't as lucky. Her side of the car had been rammed by a truck, and because she hadn't buckled her seatbelt properly, she had been sent flying straight out of the car. She passed away on arrival.

Superstition, maybe, to think his wishing had anything to do with the accident, but it stopped feeling safe to turn a blind eye to his wishes’ consequences after that. Wishes have power to them, just as his grandmother always told him. Be careful with them, was the message—but Jisung decided it was safer to stop wishing altogether. If he wanted something, then he was going to work hard for it.

His parents quietly divorced not a year after that, and his mother had returned to work.  To make ends meet, Jisung had taken up working part time as well. Meanwhile, at school, he slowly transformed into a more sullen teen, mostly keeping to himself with only Changbin as his friend. He threw himself to music, the only way he could express his feelings in more abstract ways, lest he accidentally unleash more of his ugly thoughtless wishes into the world.

To this day, he blames himself. If he hadn't made that wish, maybe his father would have simply left the other woman down the line; maybe his parents wouldn't have divorced after his mother’s heart had broken; maybe his father wouldn't be living in another country now; and maybe his mother wouldn't have eventually remarried, making Jisung feel othered in his mother's own house whenever he would visit. Maybe his family would be intact. 

So many maybes and what ifs, and he's so tired of them. It's probably part of why he had been so quick to cave when Minho said there was no point in worrying over their circumstances; no use in figuring out hows and whys and maybes and what ifs. To Jisung, it was very refreshing, the way Minho's mind worked.

He stares at the polaroid of himself, taken by Minho, and Jisung's only remembrance of him, along with the few post-it notes. He had been so good at not stressing out over the unknown variables of their relationship, but now—

What if?

What if this is why it's the two of them? What if Jisung can simply utter a wish and save Minho? He wonders what he’ll end up losing in the process – what someone else will lose?

But Minho, he’s worth it, isn't he? The universe wouldn't have pushed them together like this, otherwise.

He chuckles wryly; maybe it won't even work.

Jisung makes a wish.

He feels heavy when he wakes up. Like he’s hungover, but not. Where he is feels new, and his excitement pushes through past the awful throbbing in his head. Does this mean he’s back in Minho’s body?

He looks up at the ceiling – there are stars, but while they’re different from the ones stuck on his own ceiling, they’re also familiar. He rubs his eyes open and he promptly sits up, throwing covers off him.

This is not Minho’s cramped room. It isn’t Jisung room in 2012 either, but it’s familiar. A high school student’s uniform hangs at the back of a closed door, but it’s his and not Minho’s. He knows this bedroom because it’s his own, back from when he still lived with his mother, back before she remarried.

“Umma!!!” he calls out, just to be certain. “Umma!!!”

Not two minutes pass before his door swings open and his mother stares at him. “So early and you're already screaming,” she tuts at him. “Get ready for school or you'll be late!”

He only laughs, which has his mother shaking her head at him with pure exasperation.

“‘Ma, what day is it?” he asks.

“It’s Friday, so get up and get ready if you want me to drop you off on my way to work,” she tells him. 

“What date, I mean?” he prods instead of following instructions.

“Did you hit your head?” His mother picks up his blanket and lightly slaps him with it. “It’s September 25!”

He winces but he does start to get up. They’d needed to move after his parents’ divorce, and it was much easier for him to grab a ride with his mother to school than take the bus with Changbin like he used to. “Year?”

“2009,” his mother barks at him. “Now go and get ready for school!” 

He grins and lands a loud smack on his mother’s cheek before hurrying to the bathroom. He puts together all the information he has on hand – he’s clearly in his own body, but it’s a good three years earlier. He winces, because he’s back in high school yet again, but it’s also the day of Minho’s accident. That means he’s been given a chance to change that, at least.

He remembers the street from the articles, the avenue where Minho was killed in an accident.  But he supposes he had been a little too slow at processing it, because it doesn’t dawn on him until halfway through the day, when he's busy not listening to Miss Kang’s language lecture – it’s the street adjacent to where Blueprint Café is located. How could he have missed that?!

He gasps to himself; Minho had been so close all this time? Had he seen Minho in the past, not knowing who he was? Had Minho sought him out before? Had Minho seen him as the scrawny high school boy he is now? That last thought makes him cringe.

He grows antsy when he heads to the café later with Changbin after class. It’s already drizzling lightly by the time they get to work; déjà vu, Jisung thinks. The day is eerily familiar, but he supposes that makes sense since he’s technically lived it before. As the rain pours harder outside, the afternoon goes slower.

When the door chimes ring announcing the arrival of a new customer, Jisung looks up immediately and his eyes meet a familiar feline gaze. His mouth opens in surprise, and Minho—because he’s sure that’s who it is—glances away automatically. Jisung’s heart starts clamoring in his chest; it’s his first time seeing Minho from this perspective. From afar, and not as a reflection in the mirror. He’s even more beautiful like this, Jisung decides.

As Minho walks up the counter, it dawns on him that this is not the first time Minho has been by the café. He has come a few other times before, always gone right after ordering his usual iced Americano. His heart clamors inside his chest, thumping enthusiastically in his rib cage—he wants to reach out, wants to know more about Minho; he wants Minho, maybe. Probably, surely. His emotions are a mixture of different things both familiar and unfamiliar.

Jisung’s brain starts turning. Whatever it is that he wants from Minho, he has one thing that he needs to accomplish first. The articles say he was pronounced dead at exactly 6:38 PM at the hospital, which means the accident happened shortly before that.

It means he has a little over an hour to figure out how to go about this; how to go about saving Lee Minho. And then his mind blanks out because the same Lee Minho is suddenly in front of him  at the counter, reciting his order.

An hour passes quietly. The rain slows down and pours again at various intervals, but it never fully stops.

Minho remains in his seat by the window, silently looking out while he took his sweet time eating his cheesecake. Jisung, of course, can’t help but steal glances at him every so often – maybe all he has to do is to get Minho to stay until after his supposed time of death, but how does he do that without appearing like a freak weirdo?

“Earth to Jisung,” Changbin squawks, effectively nudging Jisung out of his silent reverie. “Han Jisung!”

“Calm down!” Jisung shoots back with a wince. “I can hear you just fine.”

“I’m just bored,” Changbin whines. “And you aren’t paying attention to me. Let’s play a game.”

“Sorry.” Jisung sighs. “I just have a lot of things on my mind right now.”

Changbin quirks an eyebrow and pats him on the shoulder. “Just how many chapters did Mrs. Choi give your class to work on today?”

Jisung can’t help but laugh at the assumption. “It’s not that. And just two.”

“What, then?”

“Uh.”

There is no explanation that he can give his friend that will make sense, so he struggles to come up with an excuse. He’s usually great at thinking on the fly like that, but it’s hard when his priorities lay with finding a way to get Minho to survive this day.

Before he could find a way to distract Changbin, he notices from the periphery that Minho has gotten up. That effectively pulls all his attention away from his friend and co-worker.

“Tch,” Changbin clicks his tongue, a teasing grin curving at his lips. “Figures you were just distracted by your crush on pretty boy over there.”

He starts singing the lyrics to 2NE1's Pretty Boy, and Jisung would love to shut him up and argue about that so-called crush, but he doesn’t have time to deal with Changbin at the moment.

“Th—thank,” he stammers. Thank you for coming, he means to say but the words are stuck in his throat, knowing that he shouldn’t be letting Minho go. Nevertheless, the latter seems to have noticed him about to say something, because he trains his pretty eyes at Jisung and he flashes a faint smile. He seems sad, is Jisung’s first thought amidst the fluttering in his chest — and then Minho starts limping towards the exit, and his mind blanks.

Shit.

“I gotta go,” Jisung suddenly announces, hastily untying his apron and tossing it at Changbin who abruptly stops singing to look at Jisung with utter confusion. “Cover for me?”

“What?” His best friend gawks at him

“Please?”

“Fuck? Okay, yeah?” Changbin still looks lost, but Jisung is glad that he’s the type of friend that knows how to go with the flow. “You owe me an explanation though.”

Jisung grins and lands two loud kisses on Changbin’s face, one on each cheek. And then he's hurrying out from behind the counter, braced to follow Minho outside.

It's still raining hard, but he doesn't have time to grab an umbrella; not that he has one anyway because the weather report had promised sunny skies. He gets soaked as soon as he steps outside the café, but he focuses on squinting through the downpour, trying to spot which direction Minho had gone. It’s hard, because there’s practically zero visibility, and his prescription glasses aren’t of any help. He thinks he notices a figure resembling Minho approaching the pedestrian walk at the corner of the street, so Jisung runs after him.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, he repeatedly curses in his head. This entire scene is slowly beginning to align with what he read in the articles that talked about Minho’s accident.

Finally, he catches up with Minho, but just as he’s about to reach forward and to his shoulder, Minho is already stepping off the sidewalk. Jisung’s heart sinks to his stomach—in a split second, he realises that this is it, this is the moment.

“Min—” he starts to call out, but it wouldn't be of any use; even he can barely hear himself through the rain. From the corner of his eye, he has already noticed the blinking headlights of an approaching truck.

So he moves on instinct and he runs towards Minho—to push him out of the way or to pull him back, he doesn’t even know.

The last thing he remembers are screeching brakes and the sound of someone calling his name.

“HAN JISUNG!”

Chapter Text

“So, um.”

Minho is standing at least a meter away from the emergency ward bed where Jisung is sitting on, bandaged and bruised, but mostly looking none too worse for the wear.

He doesn't really know what to say to the other boy, and it's quite obvious that it goes both ways because the two of them are just awkwardly regarding each other. Minho really wants to break the ice, but what exactly do you say when the person you've been randomly body swapping with almost dies in the process of saving your life?

“Thanks,” he eventually manages to let out; even the one word manages to sound stilted and Minho has to stop himself from physically cringing. It’s uncomfortable because he isn’t usually one to overthink the things that come out of his mouth.

“Huh?” Jisung blinks and looks at him questioningly.

“For. You know.” Minho tries to smile as he makes a circular gesture with his hand. For everything, is what he means; mostly for saving his life—but it isn’t just that. Not that Jisung would understand. Not this 18 year old Jisung in front of him, anyway.

“Ah.” Jisung nods anyway, offering a shy smile right back at Minho.

“Well. The doctor said you're fine and all patched up, but that they could keep you overnight for observation if you want. Since you’re a minor, though—”

“No,” Jisung interrupts before Minho could finish the rest of his explanation. “I don’t want—uh. I mean. I’d really rather just go. Besides, the last thing I want is to bother my mom, so let’s just go.”

“Yeah, of course.” Minho smiles tightly; he also isn't normally a person who lets nerves get the best of him but this is looking to be one of those rare instances. “I can take you home? I mean—um. It's the least I can do? Or—”

“Or?” Jisung looks at him curiously.

Minho chuckles. “Or I don’t know.” He laughs because he sounds stupid, like he just learned to talk, and he knows it. He takes a deep breath before continuing, “I feel like I should treat you to a meal or something,” he admits.

Jisung laughs, warm and melodious to Minho’s ears, except it’s quick to be cut off by Jisung wincing as he grabs at his bandaged side.

“Yeah, uh—” Minho immediately rushes close to his side. “You okay? The doctor said you should take it easy, so just tell me where you live—I can just pay for your cab ride home.”

“No, no.” Jisung shakes his head. “I’m—it’s really okay, Minho,” he says with a sigh, something akin to frustration marring his features.

“Wait—” Minho realises something. “You know my name?” He's pretty sure he has yet to properly introduce himself. Unless Jisung heard  him telling the doctors earlier?

“Ah.” Jisung’s face flushes which causes Minho to overlook how Jisung knows his name for now, as his worries instead heighten. 

“Shit, are you fine?” Minho places his palm on Jisung’s forehead. “You feel a bit warm.”

“No, I'm fine, don't worry.” Jisung gently pushes his hand away. “I just need to get out of here, is all.”

Minho sighs and nods; he’s skeptical but he doesn’t want to push or insist, especially when doctors have already said that save for bruises and aching joints that will take several days or even weeks to heal, Jisung is mostly fine. “I'll settle with the doctors, then. You don't have to do anything unless one of the doctors or nurses ask you to.”

“Thanks Minho.” Jisung flashes a faint smile at him and he sighs; maybe Jisung really did just overhear him telling a doctor his name earlier.

When they step out of the hospital together, the night sky is unsurprisingly dark, but also completely dry and clear. Minho is slow to walk as he leads the way towards the taxi bay, making sure that Jisung is able to keep in step with him. He wants to do more—to physically assist him somehow—this Jisung is so small, pocketlike, different from the Jisung in his early 20s who has worked hard to make sure he has filled up and out and has a wardrobe that ensures he appears bigger than he is—but he's also careful about not overstepping boundaries.

“I don't want to go home,” Jisung suddenly murmurs, suddenly stopping mid-step. He turns to Minho, eyes bright, shiny and ridiculously mesmerizing; Minho has to look away. “Can’t we spend a bit more time together? Min...oring?”

Minho's eyes widen at the familiar nickname, and he feels his stomach flip. He turns his head towards Jisung once more, so quickly that he almost gets whiplash. Jisung’s face is covered in cuts and bruises, and his lip is busted thanks to him practically diving face first onto gravel to save Minho that afternoon, but he's flashing a cheeky grin anyway, smug and proud of himself, but also seemingly genuine in his happiness.  

“Han Jisung?”

“Yes, that is my name,” Jisung comments with a snicker.

“No, I mean, Han Jisung?” Minho knows the words coming out of his mouth are nonsense, but he tries again. “You know who I am?”

Jisung chuckles. “It’s—it’s a long and probably unbelievable story.”

At that, it’s Minho’s turn to laugh; something dances in his heart when Jisung adorably ducks his head. “Do you really know who I am? When has that ever mattered?”

“True,” Jisung seems to regain his bluster and he nods, grinning. “I’m starving though, can we get a bite first? Didn’t you offer to buy me a meal?”

“Ah true, come with me,” Minho agrees. “I know a cheap place that serves delicious food.”

It's funny how easy they suddenly settle into a rapport; how quickly the awkwardness had dissipated between them once they started talking. How naturally the two of them just accepted that it really is the two of them—Minho and Jisung; no one has even mentioned how they know each other, they both just understood.

This is something that Minho had always enjoyed when talking to Jisung through text messages; it was easy to just take things in stride, to focus on the two of them and their banter. Apparently— amazingly— that chemistry seems to work even better in real life. 

Minho takes Jisung back to the area where Blueprint Café is, to a Chinese eatery that’s just a couple blocks away from where the accident had taken place. It’s on the same street as the building that houses the studio where he teaches dance, and he oftens goes to the eatery, sometimes with the other instructors, sometimes by himself. He’s currently living very frugally, but the pricing on the menu is more reasonable than at other restaurants and for food that is very tasty and comes at pretty decent sized portions.

“Their jajjangmyeon here is really good,” Minho tells Jisung as they find a free table. “And the old lady who manages the kitchen always gives me a bit more meat when I order the tangsuyuk or the stir fried pork.”

Jisung laughs. “I know—wait!” his eyes widen and he lets out a petulant huff. “She does?! I thought she only did that for me! I feel less special now.” He pouts, and Minho’s heart swells at the cuteness, thinking his chest could explode if Jisung keeps at it.

Minho surmises from the comment that Jisung sometimes eats at the restaurant as well, something that is further confirmed when Seungmin, the aforementioned old lady’s grandson who also works there part-time, comes over to take their order.

“You two know each other?” he asks with an amused look on his face. “Interesting.”

“Your interests sound not very interesting,” Jisung retorts teasingly, at the exact same moment that Minho comments, “Your definition of interesting is really boring then.”

Minho and Jisung glance at each other, and when their eyes meet, they burst into collective laughter. 

Seungmin sighs exasperatedly and shakes his head. “This is what I mean—whatever.” He groans. “Never mind. Just tell me what you fools want to eat.”

Minho would remind Seungmin that he’s still senior by two years, but he’s quickly distracted by the way Jisung’s forehead creases as he seriously pores through the menu’s item list. Eventually, they decide on two medium orders of jajjangmyeon and one large order of tangsuyuk to share. When their food arrives half an hour later, they find that Seungmin’s grandmother has provided them with complimentary dumplings.

“Do you come here a lot?” Minho asks Jisung. It’s mostly rhetorical—if Seungmin and the old lady are familiar with him, then clearly the answer is yes. Truthfully, he's wondering more about how they have managed not to run into each other at the restaurant before. 

“I used to, with my family. When we lived closer here,” Jisung explains as he starts to mix his bowl of jajjangmyeon. “But after my mother and I moved, we didn't get to come as much anymore. Occasionally I go with Changbin-hyung after our shift at the café. When we do, that’s when halmeonim gives me extras, usually packed to go. It’s actually my mother she likes a lot, not me,” he admits, laughing.

“Ah.” Minho nods; he remembers having figured out that Jisung’s parents aren’t together anymore in the future, but he has never pried for details.

“What about you? I didn’t realise you came by this neighborhood a lot.”

“One of her grandsons—Seungmin’s cousin—is my student at Double Knot Academy next door. Contrary to you, it’s me she actually likes!” Minho playfully points out.

“Right, you mentioned you started teaching dance to kids,” Jisung muses. “I never realised it was around here. I never had to live a day in your body when you had classes—probably a good thing. Your students would have lost all respect for you.”

“Yeah… About that.” Minho pauses from mixing his own noodles and he stares at Jisung. “You remember me? Who I am? About…” he gestures between the two of them, “you know.”

“Body swapping?” Jisung comments nonchalantly; he chuckles. “Would you believe me if I said that I’m from 2012?”

Minho blinks. He puts his metal chopsticks down and reaches across the small table to give one of Jisung’s cheeks a pinch. “You look so much skinnier than I remember from 2012,” he comments simply. 

Jisung sniffs and rubs his cheek after Minho retracts his hand. “Because I was—am a scrawny kid here in 2009. I admit it! I was—am?” he laughs, probably from having to correct his own tenses. “I was going through a lot at 18, okay?” He shrugs, and when he continues, he sounds a bit more tentative. “The gist of it all is—I went to sleep in 2012 and woke up in 2009.”

“I see.” Minho nods simply; of course he doesn't understand how that could happen, but he believes it. Stranger things have happened between the two of them. “So—how's the future going?”

Jisung looks at him. “Bleak,” he deadpans, but his body language is relaxed, and an obvious smile is already pulling at the edges of his mouth.

Minho snorts. “Sure, it is.”

Jisung snickers, and he pretends to be busy with mixing his noodles even though it looks pretty well mixed to Minho by now. “I really wanted to see you,” he suddenly says, sounding like he’s trying his very best to appear casual. “That’s why I’m here.”

Minho has just picked his chopsticks up again, but he feels his heart skip that he has to pause and put them back down. “Excuse me?”

“I wanted to see you,” Jisung repeats. His words sound more certain this time around, but his cheeks are a deep shade of scarlet, and he's quick to avert his gaze.

Minho’s heart stutters and he feels his own face start to heat up. “You couldn't wait for me in the future?” he comments, trying to tease. That’s when he notices a hint of pain flash across Jisung’s, and something sharp pricks at his chest.

“Had to make sure there'd be something to wait for in the future,” Jisung mutters.

Minho’s brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

“Just—” Jisung sighs, shakes his head and proceeds to put on a bright smile. “Never mind that for now,” he says with a handwave. “Let’s enjoy dinner.”

Minho blinks; that's a strange reaction, but as usual he doesn't attempt to push further. Instead, they fall into simple small talk, conversing about the dishes on the menu, and somehow that naturally segues to other aspects of their life — to Chan and Changbin in 2012, and how they know now that Jisung is aware of whatever they have going on, but they have yet to really talk about it; to Minho and his friends, about how Jisun has found herself a girlfriend in college, while Jiwon continues to date around, except now that she’s in Busan for college, she has found herself with an even wider net of cute boys. They talk about the classes that Minho is taking in college, and how he's juggling that with his new work schedule; they talk about the live gigs that Jisung’s tiny musical trio with Chan and Changbin—more commonly known in 2012 as 3RACHA, which Minho admits is a witty pun—keep booking, and once again, Minho reiterates a desire to see them live one day. They talk about how Jisung wants to do the same—how he wants to see Minho dance at one of his showcases, if he can.

“Do you think, when you wake up tomorrow, you'll be back in 2012?” Minho muses out loud, because of course, there comes a point when they eventually touch the mystery and mysticism of what’s been going on with them.

Jisung hums. “Maybe. Presumably. That's how it was between us, wasn't it?”

“Why do you think that stopped happening?” Minho murmurs. “Waking up as each other?”

Jisung laughs. “Now you're interested?”

“Well maybe if we knew why…” Minho shakes his head and trails off. It’s not even that he wants to know why; he just wants to know if he can expect it to happen again. Months of no contact with Jisung had taken a strange toll on his emotional wellbeing. “Hmm. Do you think the 2009 version of you will remember tonight?” he asks instead, wistful. 

Jisung purses his lips and looks down at his half empty bowl of noodles. He shrugs, but Minho can tell that the wheels in his head are turning.

“Right.” Minho nods in agreement, softly, somberly. “Probably not.”

They spend over three hours at the restaurant; even after their dishes are cleaned out, they hang around continuing to talk about anything and everything that comes to mind. The conversation hops around, much like they do when they text, but it flows even easier. It’s only when the restaurant empties that they feel like they have no choice but to go. 

Once again, Minho offers to pay for Jisung’s cab fare home.

“You said you don't live that close by,” he points out.

“And you said that you’ve been saving up so you can afford somewhere nicer to live at,” Jisung shoots back.

Minho would argue that while that’s true, he’s not so poor that he can't afford one taxi ride; he anticipates that Jisung would likely just throw back at him the fact that he already paid for dinner. They end up staring at each other, clearly at an impasse.

Jisung sighs loudly. “Truthfully—I don’t even want to go yet,” he admits.

“Ah.” Minho grins because of course he feels the same. “What I’m hearing is that you wanna spend more time with me,” he teases.

“Yes,” Jisung answers so earnestly, which takes Minho by surprise. 

“Oh.”

Jisung laughs. “Oh,” he repeats mockingly. “Yes, I do, and I’m man enough to admit it.” He puffs his chest, and Minho has to laugh because he’s talking about being a man while sporting his 18 year old body. “We can just go for an evening walk,” Jisung offers.

Minho frowns, and he carefully looks Jisung over from head to toe. “The doctor said you should take it easy, remember? Besides—” he points at his own bandaged, sprained ankle, “Same goes for me.”

“Oh, true.” Jisung smiles sheepishly, and he looks at their surroundings, before letting his eyes settle back at Minho. “I just don't want the night to end yet,” he admits. “If I wasn't in this body maybe we could have gotten drinks.”

Minho returns the smile. “Right. This version of you has never had alcohol.” He chuckles, the idea that Jisung as a teenager, is consciously waiting to become an adult before even having a drop of alcohol is still funny, yet weirdly admirable for him. “Too bad, there's a tent bar close to my place. Maybe in the future, we can have a drink there.”

“Maybe,” Jisung echoes airily, noncommittally.

Without further thought, Minho gives in to the urge he suddenly has of grabbing Jisungs’s hand. It’s soft and warm, a perfect fit to his own. “I know where we can hang out,” he says with a grin.

He leads the way down the street, neither of them saying anything while their hands remain tightly clasped. Their destination is the building where the dance studio he works at is located; it’s late so the commercial front entrance is bolted lock, but it doesn't matter because Minho has a key to the residential side entrance, if only because his boss lets him practice at the studio after hours every now and then.

“Are we allowed to be here?” Jisung asks as he follows Minho inside.

“Do you really care?”

“I'm a good boy who sticks to rules, remember?”

Minho snorts. “Right.” He fondly reaches over with his free hand to pet Jisung on the  head, holding back a fond giggle as he gets carried away some, and he ends up ruffling his floofy hair. “An underground hip-hop artist who is a good boy at his core.”

Jisung huffs and looks away; the lighting is dim as they walk through the halls of the building, but Minho thinks he notices Jisung blushing. 

“Are we going to the studio where you work?” he asks.

Minho hums and shakes his head. “Double Knot is downstairs, in the basement floor,” he explains, stopping in front of a vending machine by the stairwell. “We’re headed up—just making a pit stop so we can stock up,” he explains, grinning as he presses for an assortment of snacks and drinks, all of which he stuffs into his bag before grabbing Jisung's hand again and leading him up the stairs.

The building has five floors in total, six if you count the basement. Various businesses have set up shop on the first three floors, while the two topmost storeys are residential. Minho has  also been looking into moving here once he can afford to; it's a bit further away from university but he likes the neighborhood, and it’s close to work. (And Jisung, but he’s ashamed to admit that, even to himself.)

Where he's taking Jisung right now is the rooftop area. Most employees tend to go there for cigarette breaks, or just breaks in general. Minho often goes there after work when he needs space to breathe.

“I—” Jisung seems hesitant when Minho opens the door to the rooftop, and he realises that's what it is. “I don't like heights,” he mumbles quietly.

Minho laughs and tugs at Jisung's hand harder. “Don't worry, neither do I,” he assures the other boy. “My acrophobia is pretty bad, but… we don't have to go to the edge. I like this place because it's quiet, and because we aren't surrounded by too many high rise buildings in this area, looking at the sky somehow makes you feel closer to it. It's a nice place to pass time.”

He walks straight to the middle of the rooftop where he places his bag on the ground before unceremoniously plopping down himself. He glances at Jisung who remains hovering by the door, and he pats the spot next to him. Finally, Jisung goes to join him, absolute trust reflected in his eyes, and Minho can't help the wide grin that splits across his cheeks.

“Here,” Minho pops open canned coffee which he hands to Jisung, and then he does it with a second can to keep for himself.

“The sky is so clear,” Jisung murmurs, looking up as he has a sip of caffeine. “The stars are even visible—something of a feat in Seoul.”

Minho laughs. “It is, isn't it?”

“Uh huh.” Jisung nods. “You wouldn't realise that there was a torrential downpour just a few hours ago.” He turns to look at Minho. “Which, by the way, was that you?”

Minho winces; so Jisung remembers that little tidbit he had shared about him and the weather. He feigns ignorance anyway. “Was I what?”

“The rain,” Jisung prods gently. “Were you sad about something? You told me that happens, didn't you? That it rains when you're sad.”

Minho hums; he exhales quietly. “You,” he admits softly; there's no point in lying, or even in being coy.

“Me?”

“Yeah,” Minho confirms. “Among many other things, I was sad about you.”

“Me?” Jisung repeats, his bottom lip jutting out in confusion. Cute , Minho's brain is screaming at him. “Why me?” Jisung asks.

“Because.” Minho laughs; the reasoning in his head seems silly and inconsequential now that they’re sitting together like this, just soaking up each other's company. “You didn't know who I was.”

“Ah.” Jisung nods as if he understands, and then Minho realises that maybe he really does. “When you came into the café earlier, I actually realised something – you’ve been by a few times before, right? Always taking your drink to go. I wish I'd remembered that it was you when I first woke up in your body.”

Minho snorts. 

“In my defense, you were a round-faced teen with acne when I was first you—” Jisung says with a snigger.

“Yah!” Minho elbows his side. “The acne wasn't even that bad, you just caught me on an especially stressful week back then.”

Jisung laughs. “It was what it was.”

“Tch, look at you now,” Minho retorts; he presses his knuckles on top of Jisung's head and gives him a half-assed noogie. “You shrimp.” 

Jisung sticks his tongue out at Minho; truthfully, Jisung looks just as young in the future, with his face even rounder, and he's just more put together, giving him more of an adult air. The childish gesture does accentuate the younger, more childish features he’s sporting now though. “We both grow out of it at least,” Minho points out.

“What I’m hearing you say is that I grow up to be a handsome young man?” Jisung grins cheekily, striking the flower boy pose by framing his face with both hands.

“Sure,” Minho caves in. “If that helps you sleep at night!” 

Jisung grins, and for a few minutes, comfortable silence falls between the two of them.

“Minho.” Eventually, it’s Jisung who breaks the quiet. “There’s something that I need to tell you.”

“Hmm?”

“About today.” Jisung's tone is cautious, nervous, and it suddenly has Minho on edge. 

“What about today?”

“Before that—” Jisung sighs. “Do you remember when I told you that my wishes always come true?”

Minho nods; he remembers most, if not all, things that he and Jisung talked about.

“Every time I make a wish, they come true, but always at a price,” Jisung clarifies. “I'm not always the one who directly pays—but somehow that makes it worse. Somehow that makes the price steeper. It doesn't feel good to be rewarded at somebody else’s expense.”

“That’s… true.” Minho nods in understanding.

Jisung shrugs. “So I’ve stopped wishing. I just… work hard, you know?”

Minho smiles; he knows enough about Jisung and the life he leads in the future to confirm this himself. “I know that much.”

Jisung sighs and gently nudges Minho’s side before allowing his head to fall against Minho’s shoulder. Minho’s stomach flips at the sudden action, disturbed by the fluttering of metaphorical butterflies. It feels so warm, just to be close to Jisung like this – he had always looked forward to the day they were to meet, but this feeling, in this moment, is better than anything he expected. They just… are. Comfortable and nice.

“Today,” Jisung whispers shakily, “today you were supposed to die.”

Minho feels everything pause around him—feels the butterflies scatter and disperse, yet he doesn't feel an ounce of surprise. It makes sense, actually—now he understands why and how it was Jisung to push him away from that incoming truck that afternoon. “Oh.”

“Mhm. You didn't show up when we were supposed to meet, so I looked for you,” Jisung explains somberly. “I found Hyunjin on Twitter and he told me you passed away.”

“Oh,” Minho can only repeat.

He glances at Jisung and he notices that the younger boy now has his eyes tightly shut, but  that hasn’t really stopped the tears from welling up at the corners of them, threatening to fall anyway. “So I made a wish,” Jisung continues, “and the next day I woke up in 2009. Today.”

Minho puts down his now empty can of coffee, and once again he reaches for Jisung's hand. This time he threads their fingers together; still a perfect fit, he thinks.

“Thats why,” Jisung keeps going despite the shaky quality of his voice. “That’s why I don't want to go home yet. I don't want to go to bed and fall asleep—I don't want to wake up in the future again, not yet anyway, because I don't know what the price for your life is, Minho.” His eyes flutter open, wide and glassy; their gazes meet. “I’m sure that it's worth a lot, and  you’d be worth all of it—but I'm also afraid of what the universe will take away from me—or worse, from you. So for now, I want to be here and take as much as I can—to have my time with you, like this, while I can.”

“Then let's stay here for a while more,” Minho says simply, lips curved into a faint smile. He doesn't pause to consider or wonder what Jisung's confession means for them in the long run, all he knows is that Jisung's pain is wrapping around his own heart, squeezing it and hurting him just as much, and he doesn't want to show it. All he wants is to make Jisung feel better, even if only for right now. “Smile, Han Jisung,” he murmurs affectionately. “We’ll deal with what the universe asks from us when it's time.”

He feels something wet on his cheek; he’d like to say it's tears but he knows better. The sky is darkening; the stars have lost their twinkle and rain is about to come. He inhales deeply and looks into Jisung's eyes. He doesn't want to face the heavy sadness in his heart, so he lets instinct take over.

He leans down and Jisung seems to immediately understand what's going on because he's quick in meeting him halfway until their mouths are on each other, tentative, curious. Minho twists his body so that he's fully facing Jisung, so that he can tilt his head at a better, more comfortable angle—there's no more hesitation when he parts his lips, and Jisung follows suit, both of them just eager to drink each other in, to feel and taste each other as much as they can in the moment.

The skies open up fully and rain starts to pour on them, but they dont pull apart – at least not immediately. Jisung wraps an arm around Minho’s neck, clinging to him, while Minho's hand finds Jisung's waist, holding him steady. Their kisses only get more desperate as they get drenched in the rain.

When they have no choice left but to pull apart for much needed air, hoarse laughter escapes Jisung's throat. “We’re actually kissing in the rain,” he points out, almost yelling, so that Minho can clearly hear him through the sound of rain. “Like we’re starring in some sappy romance drama!”

Minho has to laugh along, but he tightens his hold on Jisung, moving his arm around him so he can pull him closer, flush against him, and resume the kiss — just a little bit more, he thinks, they can be the stars of their own little romantic world for just a little bit more.

“Isn't it strange, seeing ourselves like this?” Jisung asks lazily, head leaning against Minho as the two of them regard their own tangled reflections in the wall to wall mirror.

It's probably past midnight now; Minho can't be sure because he quit checking the time a while back. He doesn't want to know because just like Jisung, he doesn't want the day to end. Nevertheless, thanks to the rain—brought on, as usual, by his own pesky melancholy—they have relocated to the dance studio in the basement. It’s fortunate that Minho has a few extra shirts and joggers in his locker, so both he and Jisung had dry clothes to change into.

Now they're just slumped on the floor, against each other in the studio itself, hands connected, and their reflections staring back at them.

“Are you confused which one in the mirror you are?” Minho comments playfully. “You’re the uglier one,” he says with a chuckle.

Jisung laughs and hits his arm, not really taking offense at a comment that's obviously not meant. “Not confused,” he clarifies, “but—something like it, sort of? I've seen both of those faces in the mirror as myself, you know?”

“Uh huh. I get it,” Minho nods; he's probably the only other person in the world who would understand it fully. He keeps looking at their reflection, quietly in awe that they're really together. After a beat, as if he couldn't stop himself, “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, the complete opposite of what he said just a minute earlier; these words are a lot more genuine and truthful.

“What?” Jisung chortles. “Do you mean yourself, in the mirror you narcissistic ass?”

“No, I mean you.” Minho grins and turns to the boy next to him, no more hesitation when he gives him a prompt kiss on the cheek. “You're beautiful, Han Jisung. I just wanted to try saying it. I never noticed it before—but your mouth is shaped like a heart when you smile really big.”

Jisung laughs, but his cheeks are already flushed red. “I thought I was a scrawny kid?”

“That's also true,” Minho is quick to agree, laughing softly, “but I've also seen how you turn out two to three years from now.”

“That's true, I do grow up to be very handsome,” Jisung says, nodding and puffing his chest. “All man through hard work—”

“Jisung—” Minho snorts. “Shut up while you’re ahead.”

“Fine.” Jisung huffs and instead starts squinting at himself in the mirror. Minho is confused at first, until he realises that Jisung is also trying on different smiles—from a prim, tight-lipped one, to a wide, round one—and it cracks him up.

“What are you doing?”

“You said my smile looks like a heart,” Jisung answers. “I’m trying to see it for myself.”

Minho keeps laughing; he pulls at both of Jisung's cheeks and stretches his face wide. “You can't put it on—you have to be truly, genuinely happy, and it just appears.”

Jisung whines, and Minho keeps playing with his face. “You're being presumptuous, assuming you've seen a truly, genuinely happy smile from me.”

Minho stills, but keeps Jisung's face cradled in his hands. “Were your smiles today not genuine?”

Jisung blinks rapidly. “Okay,” he admits shyly. “They were.”

Minho grins and resumes squishing his soft, round cheeks.

“Hey, Minho—” Jisung starts, suddenly sounding more solemn and less whiny; his tone causes Minho to retract his hands completely.

“Yeah?”

“What if tomorrow comes, and we forget each other when we wake up?”

Minho initially freezes; he hadn't thought of that—he doesn't want to think of it either. “Then it comes,” he answers eventually. “I doubt I’d forget you though. I mean that, Han Jisung.”

Jisung laughs, but there's a bittersweet quality to it. “We never know,” he points out.

“Exactly.” Minho nods firmly. “So don't assume the worst—don't assume anything.”

Jisung squeezes his hand. “It's so easy to say that, isn’t it? But it’s not as easy to follow through.” He sighs and nuzzles his cheek against Minho’s shoulder. “When you say it though… it feels good. It feels easier to go along with the flow and focus on now, instead of finding answers to unanswerable questions, and assuming the worst possible outcomes. I wonder why that is?” Jisung laughs. “Maybe because it's easy to focus on you because it's always fun to talk to you—always fun to be you, and now be with you. So—thank you, I guess.”

Minho is quiet; he doesn't think he's done anything special, but if his mere existence has helped Jisung somehow, then he's glad because Jisung has done the same for him.

“Thank you,” he returns. “For saving me today—and for always giving me a needed break from my own life.”

Jisung laughs. “Honestly, I liked your life. Not at first—going back to high school every time  I woke up as you felt like a nightmare realised. Or, it seemed like that anyway, but eventually it made me appreciate how simple life is at that age—even though you seriously already had too much going on. And I liked attending your classes once you got into university—I didn't go to college, so—” he shrugs.

“Well. I liked your life a lot, actually,” Minho confesses back. “Spending time as you gave me strength to follow my dreams, you know? Because you and Chan and Changbin—you’re all working towards music, channeling all your creativity and investing in a dream that lots of people would call foolish. Sure, progress was slow, but you all knew what you wanted. You know what you want, and you work hard to achieve that goal.” He lowers his voice, embarrassed at how candid he’s being; he's pretty sure his ears are burning now, but he forces himself to continue because he wants Jisung to know what he has to say. “That gave me strength and determination to pursue my own passion.”

“Really?” Jisung asks, looking genuinely surprised, but pleased.

“Really.”

Jisung grins, and swiftly, he plants a sweet but chaste peck on Minho's lips.

“Surely, that's not all you have to offer?” Minho teases, daring, challenging.

Jisung rolls his eyes. “Well, if you want more—”

Minho doesn't let him finish; he swoops in for another kiss, a proper one—messy and almost desperate, worthy of all the emotions they're feeling but aren't quite ready to voice out just yet, but they're afraid will get away from them if they don't act on them in the moment.

Eventually, somewhere through the night, in between continuous kisses that range from lazy to heated, in between the anxious thrumming of their hearts and the steady but silent affection they share, they fall asleep in the studio, tangled in each other’s limbs and wrapped in each other’s warmth.

Minho's eyelids feel heavy and he wants to just keep them shut; to just keep sleeping for a few more minutes at least, but an inexplicable and unknown force is compelling to wake up already. Maybe it's the way his muscles ache, like he just spent the night sleeping somewhere that is not the familiar comfort of his own bed.

With a slight groan, he rolls onto his side and slowly forces his eyes open. He realises that he isn't even in his own room. He doesn't understand how or why, but he’s at the Double Knot basement studio.

He gets up, rubbing his eyes open. He glances at his reflection, and as his eyes meet his own, he’s struck with a very strong bout of melancholy. He clutches at his chest, feeling it tightening, like a strong grip has wrapped around his heart.

Something feels very, very amiss, but he couldn't identify what; doesn't know how to identify what. All he knows is that there's an unfamiliar emptiness lingering – like the ghost of a limb; a message never written; the space between his arms.

He’s confused when he feels dampness on his cheeks; he immediately wipes his face with the sleeve of his shirt, and when he looks at his reflection again, he's surprised to realise that tears are falling uncontrollably from his own eyes.

He keeps wiping at them with frustration, but they refuse to stop. Eventually, finally, Minho succumbs to the sadness he’s feeling and he curls his knees against his chest as he sobs his heart out. He doesn't know the reason why he's crying, but the faint image of a heart-shaped smile touches his thoughts; it offers comfort, but it also draws even more tears. 

When he goes outside, the skies are strangely sunny but the ache in his heart remains.

Chapter Text

2012, November

Jisung wakes up to silence.

At first there isn't even the usual, faint noise of the streets—nor does he hear his roommates moving around outside of his room. He would panic, but he simply closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens them again, the first thing he sees are the stars on his ceiling coming into sharper focus; at the exact same moment, someone loudly beeps their car horn outside, and just like that, the world seems alive again.

Strangely, it doesn't feel like that, though; instead, Jisung just feels hollow. Almost like his heart and lungs are backed up and pressing against his chest, making way for something that might not even come; almost like if he were to open himself up and look inside, his very breath would echo.

Sighing, he grabs his phone from under his pillow and he glances at the time. It’s almost 9, but he can afford another hour of sleep so he closes his eyes again, only to find that the darkness makes him uncomfortable.

He throws his covers away and sluggishly makes his way out of his room.

“G’morning, ‘Sung!” Chan greets him brightly; he seems to be getting ready for work already, and just double checking the contents of his bag.

“‘Morning,” Jisung mumbles, plopping down in front of the dining table. “No breakfast?”

“There's milk and cereal,” Chan answers. “Binnie and I went grocery shopping yesterday. Sorry, I don't really have time to cook this morning.”

Jisung waves a hand dismissively. “S’okay, hyung.” He doesn't move from his position, though.

“Okay, see you guys tonight?” Chan asks as he slings his messenger bag over his chest.

“Huh?” 

“At Club MIROH,” Changbin pops into the conversation; he’s leaning against the bathroom doorway, toothbrush halfway hanging out of his mouth. “We have a gig tonight, remember?”

“Oh. Right.” Jisung nods absentmindedly. He glances at the calendar tacked on to their fridge; the day is encircled with a bright red marker and he doesn't know how he forgot that.

Chan laughs and claps him on the shoulder. “I think you need coffee, bro.”

“Mhm,” Jisung nods. Right. Coffee. That should do the trick; that should help fill up the strange, indescribable  hollowness he feels at the moment.

“You guys remember my buddy from Australia?” Chan asks them, and they both nod in response. “Felix? He's coming again tonight, and I invited him to have drinks with us after—he said he’d be bringing a friend.”

“Uh huh, okay.” Jisung just keeps nodding; it doesn't really matter to him either way.

“He's a dancer, right?” Changbin asks, finally emerging from the bathroom, clearly done with brushing his teeth.

“Yeah,” Chan confirms. “His friend is, too.”

Jisung hums absentmindedly, and Chan seems to give up engaging him after that. Changbin also gives him a strange look when he silently rests his head on the table, but he also leaves Jisung alone after.

Eventually, Jisung gets up to serve himself a bowl of cereal; maybe it's just hunger, he thinks. Maybe that will help with the hollowness he’s feeling. But then half an hour passes, and neither milk nor cereal help with the discomfort he continues to feel.

Something is clearly lacking; it almost feels like he's forgotten something, or someone but he has no way of remembering what, or who. After he finishes eating, he leaves the dirty bowl in the kitchen sink, and he heads back to his room, planning on burying himself under the covers until the melancholy somehow eases.

Before sliding into bed, he notices a photograph; a polaroid picture, self-taken and at a surprisingly good angle, tacked on to his desk mirror that he doesn't remember taking even though it seems fairly recent. He has orange hair in it, and he had orange hair until about a month ago.

He frowns and plucks it off the mirror; he turns it around and there's nothing written—no date to jog his memory. He sighs, and thinks about memory loss as a side effect of getting older.

It still doesn't make him feel any better.

Later, after he leaves his shift at Blueprint Café early and he's waiting for the correct bus at the nearby stop, he starts wondering if maybe it's time for him to quit working there. He's had that job since high school, and while he likes his boss and co-workers, who even stays at a part-time job for that long? At one point he had even been offered a managerial position, but he had to decline because he never wanted to stay at Blueprint for too long. Changbin worked there at the same time as him, and he moved on a while ago.

Some days, he feels like he's waiting for someone there and that's why he hasn't quit. That's silly, though, and he knows it. This is really not a good day for him; he hates it when he boxes himself into a corner with his own thoughts. 

He sighs and hangs his head; it might be the weather but everything seems gray and bleak right now. He stares at the ground—at his shoes, red hi-tops that don't seem as vibrantly colored as they do on normal days—and tries to ignore while a number of people around him get ready to board the bus that just pulled up. This uncomfortable feeling of hopelessness has been lingering since he woke up that morning, and he wants to be rid of it but he doesn't know how to.

“Ah, it's raining again,” Jisung hears someone say. When he looks up, he realises that it's someone who has just gotten off the bus; half of his face is covered by the bill of a baseball cap, but Jisung notices the sharp slope of his nose peeking out.

The stranger clicks his tongue, and raises his bag over his head to help shield him from the drizzle. “You’d think it would be snowing by now,” he mutters as he steps under the bus stop’s awning. “Oh, well.”

He glances at Jisung, flashing a small, friendly smile at him; Jisung suddenly has a strong urge to offer his own umbrella to him, but before he can do that, the stranger is already tipping his hat at him and then running off, clearly not minding if the light rain soaks through him.

Jisung watches as he jogs down the street; the guy’s back seems strangely familiar—like Jisung has met him before. There's also a tightening in his chest imploring him to reach out, to call for him; but when Jisung opens his mouth, he doesn't really know what name to say.

By the time the correct bus he's waiting for arrives, Jisung notices the beginnings of a rainbow streaking across the gray sky.

That night, he gets a reprieve from the desolation he has been feeling all day. He's thankful for the stage and the rush that an audience gives him whenever he performs; at least it's still something that he can count on.

He vaguely remembers someone telling him to always focus on that feeling of exhilaration that performing gives him, but he can't recall who; he assumes it was either Chan or Changbin.

“Hey, I gotta get some air,” he tells his two best friends after they step off the stage. He feels good, but he can feel the melancholia attempting to settle back in, and he needs space to breathe. A crowded club is not the place for that.

“Sure, okay, we'll be by the bar,” Chan tells him with an encouraging pat on the back. “I’m buying Felix and his friend drinks.”

“Okay,” Jisung nods. “I’ll look for you guys later.”

The night sky is clear and bright, and the crisp autumn breeze is cold enough to get Jisung to pull his jacket close in the front. He thinks about the comment the guy from earlier said, and he wonders when the first snow will fall this year.

“You were great up there,” a voice suddenly cuts through his thoughts.

“Huh?” Jisung glances towards the person that spoke, and his eyes widen upon recognition. It's the stranger from the bus stop; he's wearing his cap backwards now so Jisung can see his features better. He has very pretty eyes, and that sharp nose he caught a glimpse of earlier is even more elegant up close. The corners of his lips are curled up in a mysterious, feline manner, giving the impression that he knows a secret you don't, and— ah.

Jisung’s hand flies over to his chest; something in his heart jumpstarts.

Familiarity has struck, and he doesn't think it's just because he had run into the same stranger that afternoon. He feels electricity buzzing through his skin, crawling through his system and adding life to the vast emptiness he had been feeling all day.

Strange, he thinks. But in a good way.

Jisung grins; he doesn't understand it but happiness has begun to fill his chest. “Thank you,” he says. “I hope you enjoyed the performance,” he adds, just so the man would have an excuse to keep talking to him.

“Yeah. I came here with a friend—he's, oh!” The stranger chuckles, and the sound is music to Jisung's ears. “He’s actually friends with one of you guys—the one with the dimples. Chris? That's what he calls him, but the guy introduced himself on stage as CB89?”

“Ah!” Jisung nods enthusiastically. “Felix—so you're Felix’s dancer friend? I thought Chan-hyung was buying you guys drinks inside?”

“Yeah.” The man grins back at him. “And I’m headed back soon, just felt like I needed a breather.”

“Aaah.” Jisung nods; he doesn't know what else to say, but he keeps smiling. He thinks he couldn't stop if he tried, and he doesn't understand why.

“Hey, has anyone ever told you that when you smile, your mouth opens and forms the shape of a wide heart?”

Jisung blinks; it's such a random comment, but it sounds vaguely familiar, so maybe someone has mentioned it before. He purses his lips, a lame attempt to conceal the so-called heart-shaped smile, and he shrugs.

The man laughs. “Don't hide it, it’s cute,” he says casually, and Jisung feels his face heat up. “I’m Lee Minho, by the way.”

It's a common name, but it fits him, somehow. Jisung wonders if it will sound nicely rolling off his own tongue.

“Han Jisung,” he returns with a smile and a soaring feeling in his chest. “My name is Han Jisung. It's nice to meet you, Lee Minho.”

•••

You were my story, your word comes to mind endlessly
Just by being able to look at it, like a photo that will be engraved deeply in my heart
I'll gather my memories one by one and cherish them in my heart
Your scent became the wind and flew far away
I'll remember it forever

I'll wish you back.