Archive of Our Own ^beta

When a meeting is called by their supervisor on a Saturday morning, Renjun braces himself for bad news. According to Donghyuck, the rumour circulating among the technicians is that a safety scare might force their facility to cease operations— a mere two years after its launch. This doesn’t bode well for Renjun, for several reasons:

1. Ultramarine is South Korea’s first underwater research facility, and only the third of its kind in the world. A shutdown would be a major blow to the nation’s pride, not to mention Renjun’s. It had taken years of hard work at university to land him a job as prestigious as this. Renjun wears his title like a badge of honour.
2. Renjun trusts that the facility is perfectly secure, and may or may not have memorised the emergency evacuation protocol word-for-word as an extra precaution. Even so, the idea of a security scare sounds concerning.
3. Renjun loves his life here. There’s something liberating about waking up every day under the surface of the Yellow Sea, kilometres off the coast of Gwangju. Renjun doesn’t want to go back to the mainland. He has nothing to go back to, after all.

What greets Renjun upon stepping into the meeting room is possibly worse than he could have imagined. Standing next to their supervisor at the front of the room is a figure so out-of-place, so wrong, that Renjun feels his heart sink like the Titanic. Immaculate cheekbones, a piercing gaze, and dark hair windswept despite the lack of wind fifty metres underwater. A familiar face Renjun thought he’d never see again.

“This is our new transfer from KIOST, just arrived at the facility this morning,” their supervisor introduces, oblivious to the storm raging in Renjun’s chest. “Everyone, meet Na Jaemin.”

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost pipefish,” Donghyuck comments as they make their way back to the lab. Renjun feels sick— no doubt from having to sit in the same room as Jaemin for the better part of the last hour. It isn’t helped by the fact that he’d gotten almost no sleep last night after all the sea sponge samples he’d stayed up barcoding.

Donghyuck surveys him through narrowed eyes. “Either that, or…” Renjun is too busy trying to stave off the nausea to feel any dread knowing that nothing escapes Donghyuck’s evil, perceptive little mind. “No way,” Donghyuck says, eyes growing wide. “You’re fucking kidding me. That’s the guy who dumped you in university? Na Jaemin?”

Renjun brings up a hand to massage his temple. Jaemin is actually here, in Renjun’s sanctuary. Even as the largest underwater research facility in existence, Ultramarine houses fewer than twenty researchers at a time. Renjun won’t be able to avoid Jaemin forever.

He glares at the floor. “Technically, I broke up with him—”

“I’m sure you did,” Donghyuck interrupts with a snort. “Actually, I have some bad news for you. Mark was supposed to show Jaemin around, but he thought Jaemin might feel more comfortable getting to know someone closer to his age. You know, like the youngest researcher to ever be invited to work here?” He gives Renjun a pointed look.

“Me?” Renjun splutters, dread pooling in his gut like stale saltwater. “No. No, no, tell him I can’t—”

“No can do,” Donghyuck reaches over to give his shoulder an unsympathetic pat. “If Mark spends all his spare time babysitting, I will never get to see him. Plus, Jaemin is hot! Make up with him, or something. Make out with him. It’ll do you good.”

Renjun tries to ignore the images the words conjure in his mind. “You’re closer in age to Jaemin than I am,” Renjun protests, desperate. “Your birthday is in— April? Jaemin and I were born a hundred and forty-three days apart. That makes you…” he starts doing the mental maths, pauses at the look Donghyuck gives him. “What?”

“It’s worse than I thought,” Donghyuck says grimly. “Well, good luck. You’ll need it.”

Jaemin is waiting for him outside the galley, hands jammed into the pockets of the same yellow hoodie he used to wear at university. Renjun takes one look at him and just about loses every ounce of the nerve he’d spent the entire morning building up.

“Renjun,” Jaemin says, blinking as he catches sight of him. “It’s been a while.”

Renjun had predicted any one of the following scenarios:

1. Jaemin regards him with the same contempt he had on the day they broke up. The tension between them soon becomes the talk of the facility. Eventually, every member of the team is forced to pick a side, and the first of the two of them to break puts in a request to transfer out of Ultramarine. Renjun will not be the first to break.
2. Jaemin is awkward, but willing to put aside their differences in the name of deep sea conservation efforts. They make small talk and Renjun burns that one photo with Jaemin he still keeps at the bottom of his rucksack. For the most part, life goes on.
3. Jaemin pretends not to know him. After Renjun shows him around, they never speak again outside of work-related matters.

The smile Jaemin offers is hesitant but sincere— completely out of place among Renjun’s predictions. He looks slightly nervous, but that must be a trick of the light. The Jaemin that Renjun remembers never had any reason to be nervous.

“Yeah,” Renjun whispers, his stomach doing an uncomfortable flip. “It’s been a while.”

Jaemin maintains a modest distance of one metre between them as Renjun shows him around. The facility is no bigger than a mansion, and Renjun is practically running on autopilot as he rattles off everything he knows about the different branches of research they carry out in each of the various labs. It’s a good distraction from the way Jaemin is looking at him— wide-eyed and attentive, like Renjun is the only person in the room. It’s exactly how Jaemin always used to look when he was completely focused on something.

“I’m stationed in the marine botany lab on the third floor. You’ll be—” Renjun falters, suddenly apprehensive about knowing exactly what Jaemin specialises in. Jaemin looks expectant, though, so Renjun finishes weakly: “In the ecosystems lab downstairs.”

Jaemin peers into the nearest room. “This place is nice. I bet you spend all night running your tests in there. Nothing to stop you, right?”

Renjun feels something tighten in his chest as he smiles. In August, it’ll be six years since they broke up— that’s as long as they’d dated. But why should it bother Renjun? They’re done. Everything they’d once shared is in the past. Without Jaemin to tie him down, Renjun had dedicated every second of his post-grad life to his research. That’s the only reason he made it here.

Jaemin is blinking at him again with those long eyelashes of his. For some reason, it hurts a little to look at him.

On the second floor between the sleeping quarters and the far wall is Renjun’s favourite spot in the facility— a sliver of flooring in front of a window overlooking the reef East of their location. It’s odd and a little out of place; when Renjun first discovered it he’d thought it must be an architectural oversight. His eyes must linger on it a second too long as he’s showing Jaemin to his room, because Jaemin’s interest seems to be piqued.

“What’s that?”

“Nothing,” Renjun says hastily, not liking the idea of Jaemin encroaching on what’s his, but Jaemin squeezes his way into the space anyway, Renjun reluctantly following suit so that they end up practically shoulder-to-shoulder. “Not many people know about this place,” Renjun tells him, biting back a sigh. “But the view is—”

Through the window, schools of fish are visible against shades of mossy green and brilliant red. Suddenly, Renjun is seventeen years old and peering in on the world on the other side of the aquarium glass, Jaemin’s hand in his. It had been Jaemin who introduced him to the ocean. Everything had seemed so vast back then, so full of wonder, and at seventeen Renjun had decided he wanted to make it his whole life.

When Renjun blinks, the memory dissipates.

“It’s beautiful,” Jaemin breathes.

Standing there in that small space, Renjun lets himself forget where he is, who he’s with. For several precious minutes, everything seems perfect.

It’s difficult to concentrate on his research when Renjun can still picture Jaemin’s smile in his head, warm as the sun up on the surface. Between sleep deprivation and the comedown after spending the afternoon with him, Renjun feels light-headed. The data from the tests he’d run last night still needs to be processed, though, so Renjun forces himself to get to work. Being twice as efficient as the other researchers is how he’d made a name for himself here— he isn’t about to let his hard work go to waste.

He’s the last one still in the lab when a knock sounds on the door.

“Hey,” Jaemin greets, head appearing around the door as Renjun looks blearily up at him. Jaemin clears his throat. “Are you still working? I thought we could go get a coffee, or something. If you want to.”

It’s strange that Jaemin is behaving like they’re friends. It makes Renjun feel like he should make the effort as well, if only so that they’ll get along. But he also needs to get this report done in time to meet his self-imposed deadline. “Sorry,” he says, feeling a twinge of guilt at the disappointment on Jaemin’s face. “I have to finish this.”

“Of course, I— don’t worry. I get it.” Jaemin doesn’t seem to move as Renjun turns his attention back to his laptop, the weight of Jaemin’s gaze still on him. After a while, Jaemin seems to enter the lab, the door clicking shut behind him. There’s another stretch of silence before Jaemin speaks: “You don’t actually spend all night in here, do you?”

It’s the accusation in his voice that sets Renjun off. Anger flares up in him, seemingly from nowhere. “So what if I do?” Renjun asks tersely. “I don’t see how it’s any of your business.”

Jaemin looks taken aback.

“Why are you here?” Renjun asks him.

Jaemin frowns. “I told you, I—”

“No, why are you really here? At Ultramarine?”

Silence hangs between them. Jaemin’s expression closes off so quickly that Renjun’s head spins. “Oh,” Jaemin says tonelessly. “You mean, what am I doing at the top research facility in the country when it’s supposed to be your thing? Why should I be allowed to want the same things you do?”

Renjun hesitates. “That’s not what I—”

“Did you finally learn to swim?” Jaemin asks, voice cold.

Renjun’s blood feels like ice water in his veins.

“I’ve never heard of a marine biologist working underwater who can’t swim,” Jaemin continues. “Do you still tell people you can’t dive because of an inner ear problem?”

“Fuck you,” Renjun spits, ears ringing. This scene is a painfully familiar one. A memory overlays with the present, and then another— a collection of all the times something like this had happened. All the fights they’d had in university, all the deep and unending frustration. It was stupid of Renjun to think he’d ever be able to get along with Na Jaemin. “I’m not the same person you think you know.”

“Neither am I,” Jaemin says, taking a step towards him. “You told me I’d never succeed. Well— I’m here, aren’t I? How does that make you feel?” He’s right up in Renjun’s space now, close enough that Renjun can see the way his eyes flash. “Can’t believe you were wrong about something? Or are you scared that, for once, someone might be better than you—”

“Get out,” Renjun snaps, reaching out to shove him, but Jaemin is already turning to leave. Renjun’s hand is shaking as he brings it up to run through his hair. The slam of the door echoes through the empty room, bounces off the walls of all the hollow spaces in Renjun’s chest.

The lab is silent after that. It’s difficult to concentrate on his research when his hands are shaking too hard for him to type properly, but Renjun tries— at least until the sting of his eyes makes it impossible to continue working.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Renjun stops in his tracks, turning towards the owner of the voice. Donghyuck is walking towards him from the opposite direction, staring at Renjun with a baffled look on his face. Renjun might have been more alarmed if his head didn’t feel as though it were filled with cotton; he’d retreated to his room earlier than usual last night, the fight with Jaemin replaying in his mind on loop. Sleep hadn’t come easily.

Donghyuck clicks his tongue. “We have a meeting at ten, remember?”

“Again?” Renjun asks, confused. “Since when?”

“What do you mean, again?” Donghyuck lowers his voice, shooting Renjun a conspiratorial look. “Remember that rumour I told you about? There can’t be many reasons for calling a meeting on the weekend, right?”

“What about yesterday’s meeting?” Renjun asks as he begrudgingly follows Donghyuck down the hallway. “With—” He swallows around the syllables. “With Jaemin?”

Donghyuck gives him a funny look as he pushes open the meeting room door. “Who?”

No response comes to mind as Renjun follows Donghyuck into the room, immediately zoning in on Jaemin standing next to their supervisor at the front, just like yesterday. “This is our new transfer from KIOST, just arrived at the facility this morning,” their supervisor introduces once everyone is seated. “Everyone, meet Na Jaemin.”

With a composure that impresses himself, Renjun turns to Donghyuck and nudges him in the ribs. “What day is it today?” he whispers.

“Saturday?” Donghyuck whispers back. “First of June?” He makes an exaggerated, slightly belated pained face as he clutches his side. “Jesus, I know you’re bad with dates, but don’t take that out on me.”

Renjun barely hears him. All around the room, none of the other researchers are giving any indication that anything is amiss. Not one of them looks like they’d sat through this very briefing yesterday. Okay, Renjun thinks, uneasy. So he’s reliving the previous day as if it’s happening for the first time. That isn’t strange at all.

At the front, Jaemin eyes sweep across the room’s occupants; his gaze lingers on Renjun, a flash of surprise crossing his face before he looks away.

Renjun can’t stop the jolt of indignation that sweeps through him. Jaemin should know very well that Renjun works here— Renjun had made sure to announce it on every social media platform when he’d gotten the offer from Ultramarine a year ago. But then, maybe Jaemin doesn’t keep track of what Renjun is up to. Maybe he doesn’t care. Probably not everyone makes a habit of stalking their ex on social media years after breaking up— or worse, scrounging up whatever information they can find by scrolling through the Instagram of their more active friends (thanks, @jeno_lee).

This time, Renjun spends the briefing so deep in thought that he doesn’t have to remind himself not to steal glances at the ex in question. Unlike the previous time, the meeting is over before he knows it.

Donghyuck comments that Renjun looks like he’s seen a ghost pipefish, informs him about Mark dumping his Jaemin-shaped responsibilities on him, and encourages Renjun to make up and make out with Jaemin on their way back to the lab.

Renjun has a few theories about what could be happening:

1. Somehow, for some reason, he’s been granted a chance at a do-over. Yesterday was easily the worst day Renjun has ever had since he started working at Ultramarine. This could be his one opportunity to avoid the fight with Jaemin last night.
2. This is all an elaborate prank by the research team to make Renjun think he’s reliving yesterday all over again. But Renjun can think of no reason why anyone would do such a thing, and it doesn’t explain how all traces of the work he’d done yesterday have vanished from his laptop.
3. Renjun has finally lost it.

In the afternoon, Jaemin is waiting for him outside the galley, hands jammed into the pockets of the same yellow hoodie he used to wear at university. “Renjun,” he says, blinking as he catches sight of Renjun approaching. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” Renjun manages. It sucks that talking to Jaemin isn’t actually any easier than it had been yesterday. “It has been.”

He goes through the motions of the mini-tour, trying as best as he can to replicate everything he’d told Jaemin yesterday. It will probably be best to stay as consistent as possible to avoid changing things he shouldn’t. By this point, Renjun has decided to take today in his stride— whatever the hell is going on. If he’s being offered the chance to erase the look Jaemin had given him before he’d stormed out of the lab last night, Renjun will take it without question.

Next to him, Jaemin peers into the nearest room. “This place is nice. I bet you spend all night running your tests in there. Nothing to stop you, right?”

This time, Renjun has to remind himself to smile.

He works quickly once he’s back in the lab, channelling all his focus into refining his computational model and managing to reach his target thanks to the data from yesterday being already familiar. He even has time to get a headstart on tomorrow’s work. At some point, when Renjun is the last one still in the room, there’s a knock on the door.

“Hey,” Jaemin greets, head appearing around the door. Now that Renjun isn’t caught off guard, he hears the hint of uncertainty in Jaemin’s voice that he hadn’t noticed yesterday. “Are you still working? I thought we could go get a coffee, or something. If you want to.”

“Yes,” Renjun says, flushing at how quickly the word tumbles out of his mouth, like he’d been waiting for the invitation. But if Jaemin notices, he doesn’t say anything.

The galley offers a selection of dehydrated foods that not even generous amounts of hot sauce can make taste good. Food is one of the only things Renjun will admit he misses down here; hotpot just isn’t the same in his dreams. After directing Jaemin to a table, Renjun goes straight to the drinks station, nervous at no longer knowing how their conversations might go. He barely notices what he’s doing until he’s placed a cup of black coffee in front of Jaemin and dropped six packets of sugar on the table next to it.

“Thanks,” Jaemin says, surprised. “You remembered.” He empties the contents of only three of the packets into his drink, one after the other. “I’ve decided to go easy on the sweets these days. Someone told me it was bad for me, so— thought it was about time I started taking these things more seriously.”

That stings a little. Renjun had spent the better part of their university years together trying to convince Jaemin to take better care of himself, to no avail. His stomach turns suddenly at the thought of Jaemin having someone else in his life— but Renjun would know if that were the case, right? All these years, @jeno_lee has never let him down.

“Don’t make that face,” Jaemin says. “I was talking about you.”

Renjun blinks. “Oh.”

Jaemin seems to have no trouble at all talking about their shared history. Maybe it’s because he hadn’t spent years trying to convince himself that none of it had ever happened.

Renjun swallows the thought as Jaemin gestures across the table to his cup. “Americano? One sugar if no one’s looking?”

Renjun can’t help the small smile that tugs at his lips. He tears off the corners of two packets of sugar and dumps them into his drink, blushing at the grin that breaks out on Jaemin’s face. “I guess you could say I’ve let go a little.”

They lapse into a comfortable silence that grows a little less comfortable once Renjun realises how much this reminds him of the nights they used to spend in each other’s dorm rooms pulling all-nighters for finals. Sharing the same space, no words exchanged between them. Jaemin looks even more beautiful in person than he does in Instagram photos— his features defined, more mature than the last time Renjun had seen him up close.

“Listen, Jaemin,” Renjun starts, because if he doesn’t speak now, he’s never going to find the courage to. “I know we didn’t exactly part on the best terms—” Jaemin is watching him attentively, eyes bright under the facility’s lights. “But that was all so long ago,” Renjun bites his lip, hopes Jaemin will understand. “We’re different people now. I’d really like it if we could get along.”

Jaemin had always been a hard person to read. Even when they were going out, Renjun found it difficult to tell what he was thinking a lot of the time. All the more reason that when Jaemin nods after a second, face softening, Renjun feels the knot loosen in his chest.

“I’d like that too.”

Timidly, Renjun offers Jaemin his hand. When they were younger they used to shake on things, little deals and promises. Today, the gesture feels even more significant— the prospect of a new beginning.

Jaemin’s hand is warm. For some reason, his smile doesn’t quite seem to meet his eyes.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Renjun stops in his tracks, heart sinking as he turns towards the owner of the voice. Donghyuck is walking towards him from the opposite direction, staring at Renjun with a baffled look on his face. He clicks his tongue. “We have a meeting at ten, remember?”

It’s Saturday again. Renjun had fully expected today to be Sunday, but despite everything he’d done yesterday— despite making amends with Jaemin— it’s still Saturday. Renjun follows Donghyuck reluctantly to the meeting room, tunes their supervisor out as Jaemin is introduced to the team for the third time. Why is it still Saturday?

By the time the meeting has ended, Renjun has thought of several possibilities:

1. Whatever he’d done yesterday hadn’t been enough to bring Sunday around. Maybe there’s something else Renjun is meant to do on Saturday, a key to solving this puzzle. Maybe it has nothing to do with Jaemin at all.
2. Time is broken, and there’s nothing Renjun can do to get himself unstuck. He’s trapped— doomed to reliving June 1st, 2030, forever.
3. Renjun has finally lost it.

The worst part about today being Saturday, Renjun realises with a pang, is that the time he’d spent with Jaemin yesterday no longer means anything. The handshake, the rapport they’d build over coffee, the way Jaemin had smiled at him and bid him goodnight before they parted ways— none of it actually happened.

Renjun can’t bring himself to meet Jaemin in the afternoon to show him around. Instead, he heads for his second favourite location in the facility— the bridge. The area resembles an atrium, with a high ceiling from which hang two large humpback whale models sponsored by Korea Maritime and Ocean University. Looking down on the rest of the facility from the third floor always makes Renjun feel like he has a better perspective on things.

Right now, Renjun has no idea what he needs to do to get time moving again. He seems to be the only one affected, and there’s no way of knowing what’s causing this loop. Tomorrow could be Saturday again. Should he live out every day differently until something clicks? Should he try and tell someone?

He doesn’t know how long he stands there just thinking in circles; at some point, he’s pulled from his thoughts by the sight of Jaemin wandering around on the ground below, like a butterfly fish swimming across the reef’s surface. Guilt rises in him like high tide— to Jaemin, it must seem like Renjun had stood him up. Before he’s given it much thought, Renjun finds himself already halfway to the stairwell.

He finds Jaemin in the control room on the first floor, staring at the emergency air supply manifold. The technician must be off-duty, since there’s no one else in the room. “What are you doing?” Renjun asks.

Jaemin straightens, gaze flicking over to him. “Mark said you would meet me and show me around. But you didn’t, so I’m showing myself around.”

“Sorry,” Renjun says, abashed. “I—”

Jaemin shrugs. “It’s okay. I get it.”

“No,” Renjun says quickly. “It’s not like that. I just—” Something about starting off on the wrong foot with Jaemin just doesn’t feel right. Now that Jaemin is here in front of him, Renjun is beginning to regret his decision. “I got the time wrong. I’ll show you around now.”

Jaemin studies him for a few seconds. Renjun feels like a phytoplankton sample under a microscope.

“Actually,” Jaemin says, in a tone that’s unusually dismissive. “I think I’ll be able to find my own way. See you around.”

Renjun hadn’t been prepared for Jaemin to turn him down— hadn’t even considered it a possibility. Their shoulders brush as Jaemin passes him on the way out, leaving Renjun alone in the room after what had felt strangely like a rejection.

“Let me get this straight,” Donghyuck says flatly. “Every day you wake up and it’s Saturday the first? And this has happened to you multiple times?”

“Not so loud,” Renjun hisses, glancing around to make sure no one else is in the hallway with them. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but I’ve been stuck for days now. I can tell you everything that happens today. Mark makes me show Jaemin around. You have fried rice for lunch and spend the afternoon trying to convince Mark to stop working on new grant applications on a weekend. Jisung drops his mug in the galley and no one can get the stain off the floor. I can recite every single thing that was covered at the briefing this morning— do you want to hear it?”

“Spare me,” Donghyuck is looking at him like he’s grown gills. He places a hesitant hand on Renjun’s shoulder. “Listen, Renjun, if you want to reinvent yourself, this probably isn’t the best way to do it. My jokes are charming. Yours are… weird.”

Renjun lets his eyes fall shut. It had been a long shot, but he’s getting desperate. By now, he’s begun to lose track of the number of mornings he’s woken up in his room, Saturday, 1 June glaring back at him from the screen of his phone.

“Mark is still working on those applications?” Donghyuck frowns at Renjun’s sigh. “Hey, don’t look so sad. If your days really are repeating, at least you can have what you always wanted— unlimited time for research.”

Except that all the time in the world is no use when everything resets itself at the end of the day. Renjun had tried keeping a log of what he’d done in his phone, but the records had disappeared by the time he woke up. Any work he does is undone by the next day. The only way to remember anything at all is with mental lists.

“Although, unlimited research time down here might not be the best idea,” Donghyuck says thoughtfully, with the air of someone peer-reviewing a paper to check for inconsistencies. “Decompression and all that. Also, not enough vitamin D. I don’t think you can supplement that with the other kind of D. Not even if it’s someone as hot as—”

Renjun tunes him out. Uneasiness grows in his chest at Donghyuck’s words— Renjun doesn’t actually know what will happen if he stays in this loop forever. Humans aren’t meant to exist underwater, is something his professor at university used to say. Renjun doesn’t know whether his body will be affected over time, or whether it will remain the same as it had on Saturday, 1st June. He doesn’t want to stick around long enough to find out.

After all the Saturdays he’s been through, there are a few things Renjun has learnt:

1. Avoiding sleep doesn’t work. He had tried staying up all night to beat the loop; one minute he’d been staring at the bright 11:59 on his phone, and the next, he was waking up in bed on Saturday morning.
2. Avoiding his responsibilities is a bad idea. After a particularly frustrating iteration, Renjun had slept through one morning meeting entirely and had to frantically explain to his supervisor afterwards that it wouldn’t happen again. That had been the one time he’d been relieved to wake up on Saturday again the next day.
3. Avoiding Jaemin seems to be the best option for now. All Renjun has to do is confine himself to the lab in the afternoon so that they won’t run into each other. It’s simply too much to have to see and talk to Jaemin when Renjun knows that none of their interactions will matter in the long run.

The only constant in his life, apart from the morning meeting, is Renjun’s research. Regardless of what else he does, he makes sure to complete his tasks diligently each day. It’s impossible to know when Sunday might come, and the last thing Renjun would want is to fall one day behind on his work. It’s the one routine he finds comfort in— even as the same data starts to grow less and less appealing with time.

“Renjun? Are you okay?”

Renjun jumps at the sound of Jaemin’s voice, whirling around to see the questioning look on Jaemin’s face. The bridge is empty except for the two of them; Renjun had been in the lab when a bout of dizziness had hit him, so strong that he’d decided to come out here to clear his head. He hadn’t anticipated being found by Jaemin.

“I’m fine,” Renjun answers hastily. His head has stopped spinning, but now a different kind of pain is blooming in his chest. “Sorry I didn’t meet you to show you around. I—”

“You don’t look fine.”

Concern is etched into the lines of Jaemin’s face. Renjun had almost forgotten he could look like that. Maybe it’s the product of his own tiredness— some moment of weakness— but suddenly Renjun remembers that Jaemin hadn’t always looked distant, untouchable. That once upon a time, Jaemin was the one person Renjun confided in about everything.

Renjun swallows. “Would you believe me if I told you something crazy?”

The marine robotics lab is empty— Renjun had seen Doyoung’s team leave for a dive after lunch. Renjun shuts the door behind them, trying not to think about how things had gone the last time he and Jaemin had been in one of the labs together. Jaemin follows along without protest, listens attentively as Renjun tells him everything.

He’s silent for a long time after Renjun is finished.

“Humans aren’t meant to exist underwater,” Jaemin says eventually, voice quiet. “Yet here we are. We don’t know what’s possible until it happens, right?”

Relief crashes down on Renjun like a tidal wave, upending his world and leaving him breathless. Until this very moment, he hadn’t realised how cathartic it would feel to share his secret. “You believe me?” Renjun asks, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice. “I just— I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to stop it.”

“You don’t know what might be causing it?”

Jaemin is watching him so carefully that Renjun is sure he must be humouring him— but by this point Renjun is too desperate to care. “No,” Renjun answers. “All I know is that no matter what I do, everything will reset. After today—” The realisation hits him with a jolt, the words forcing themselves past his lips with effort. “After today, you won’t even remember this conversation happened.”

Jaemin exhales softly. “And you don’t know what happens tomorrow?”

Renjun shakes his head. “I’ve never made it past today.”

“Have you tried pulling an all-nighter to see what happens?”

“It doesn’t work.”

“Have you tried leaving?”

Renjun has to pause for a moment. “What?”

“Removing yourself from the situation entirely,” Jaemin says evenly. “From the facility.”

The relief Renjun had felt minutes ago suddenly feels like warm sewage water sloshing around his ankles. “You think the answer is for me to leave Ultramarine?” he asks blankly. If he were to return to the surface, he would surely just wake up in the facility again the next morning. And if, for some reason, he didn’t—

But no. That doesn’t make any sense.

What Renjun had mistaken for understanding in Jaemin’s eyes has taken on a new, more sinister light. Of course Jaemin would take the first opportunity to try and get rid of him. After all, Renjun is the only thing standing in the way of Jaemin becoming the most promising researcher of their age at the facility. Anger bubbles up in Renjun like boiling water. “I’m not leaving,” he says. “This is my home. You just got here. Why don’t you leave?”

Jaemin’s face is impassive. “Why should I leave? This has nothing to do with me.”

But this has everything to do with Jaemin. The only thing out of the ordinary that had happened on Saturday, June 1st, after all, had been Jaemin’s arrival. For all Renjun knows, this loop is somehow Jaemin’s fault.

“My life here was perfect until you showed up,” Renjun hisses, feeling no satisfaction at the hurt that flashes across Jaemin’s face as he turns away.

This time, it’s Renjun who slams the lab door shut on his way out.

When they were younger, Jaemin always had a weird knack for finding his way back to Renjun after a fight. Call it intuition or a red string of fate— Jaemin was always the one to show up at whatever place Renjun had hidden himself away in, with a hesitant smile and an apology, ready to lead him back out to sea.

There’s no luxury of that now. Renjun spends the next few Saturdays alone and doing what he does best— storing his feelings away like algae samples in a freezer, and submerging himself in work. Every day feels more hopeless than the last. He decides there would be no point in telling Jaemin the truth again— even if Jaemin believes him, it’s not like he’d be able to help. They’d probably just get into another fight.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Donghyuck says as they’re walking back to the lab after a morning meeting Renjun had spent staring vacantly at the floor. “That’s the guy who dumped you in university? Na Jaemin?”

For the longest time, Renjun hadn’t allowed himself to think about it. There hadn’t really been one single thing that had led to the breakup. No— it had been gradual, like nitrogen building up in the bloodstream underwater, potent enough to kill upon ascension. All the hurt and the silences and the broken promises. All the nights they’d spent yelling at each other over a nebulous future they’d both been terrified of.

I don’t think we’re good for each other. That was what Jaemin had said to him. Renjun had spent weeks memorising his valedictorian speech but the only words he remembers from that day are the ones Jaemin had uttered at the back gate after everything was over, adrenaline fading faster than the daylight.

Renjun hadn’t believed it. But instead of telling Jaemin that, he had said—

“Whoa,” Donghyuck says, giving Renjun a concerned once-over. “That bad? Mark was going to ask you to show him around, but, uh… I guess I could do it instead?”

Renjun feels a rush of gratitude. Donghyuck is blunt and too sarcastic for his own good most days, but Renjun knows that deep down, he cares. Even so—

“No,” Renjun says, because pathetically, no matter what Jaemin thinks of him, some part of Renjun still wants to see him again. “Thanks, Donghyuck. But I’ll do it.”

Jaemin isn’t outside the galley ten minutes past the time Renjun is meant to meet him. Renjun spends a while searching, starting at the control room and making his way across most of the first floor. In theory, he knows Jaemin couldn’t have gotten far— Renjun has bumped into him at different locations in the facility on days he doesn’t meet Jaemin as promised, but he’s never really kept track of the route Jaemin takes.

On a hunch, Renjun makes his way upstairs to the second floor. He and Jaemin had always been drawn to the same things— the colour yellow, scary movies, the ocean— so it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch.

Sure enough, he finds Jaemin wedged into the space between the sleeping quarters and the far wall of the facility on the second floor, peering out of the window. Without letting himself think too much about it, Renjun squeezes in next to him, close enough to feel the warmth of Jaemin’s body where their shoulders touch.

“This is my spot,” Renjun tells him, as lightly as he can manage.

“It’s a nice spot,” Jaemin says, gazing out at the myriad of colours beyond the glass. And then, after a splash of silence: “Do you remember the first time we went to the aquarium together?”

Renjun does. “We got the student discount for the dolphin show. I bought you a fish-shaped balloon and you bought me one of those overpriced photos they make everyone take at the entrance. The cafe ran out of chips, so we bought chicken from across the road and walked along the river. All the way to Apgujeong, until it got dark. And then—”

“And then I kissed you.”

Renjun had always thought the photo from that day was the last trace of their relationship he’d held onto, but now he’s beginning to see he’s been carrying more than just that. Jaemin is finally looking at him, eyes bright and intense. Renjun feels like he could drown in them. The tension between them swells like a water balloon ready to burst.

Renjun can think of several reasons why kissing Jaemin right now would be a bad idea:

1. For Jaemin, this is the first time Renjun is seeing him after almost six years. Throwing yourself at your ex the moment you’re reunited with them would just be embarrassing.
2. It won’t mean anything. Tomorrow, Jaemin won’t remember.
3. Taking the plunge would mean finally admitting that some part of himself— deep and dark like the ocean floor— still isn’t over Jaemin. Still cares about him. Renjun can’t have that, because he needs to be over Jaemin. Everything he’s built for himself over the past six years has depended on it.

For as long as Renjun has known him, Jaemin always made him behave irrationally. They’re close enough that Renjun can see the light of the ocean reflected in Jaemin’s eyes, and Jaemin doesn’t make the move to pull away.

Renjun leans in, closing the distance between them.

For once, Renjun gets no work done in the afternoon. The words on his laptop screen swim like fish around a green light, impossible to comprehend. Despair sits in his chest like stagnant water. Not even a knock on the door later in the evening, once Renjun is the last one still left in the lab, is enough to break him out of his daze.

“Hey,” Jaemin’s voice is soft. “Donghyuck said I’d find you here. Can I come in?”

Renjun doesn’t respond. He can’t even bring himself to look at him. Each encounter with Jaemin wears at him, erodes the defences Renjun had so carefully built around his life here. Every day since Renjun had woken up for the first time, stuck on Saturday, June 1st, has been more confusing than the last.

After a while, the door clicks shut again, leaving him alone in the lab once more.

Renjun is a scientist. He’s used to precision and patterns. Reviewing the facts and making calculated predictions. Formulating hypotheses and collecting data. He’s used to things making sense. But right now, no amount of research can explain what’s happening to him. No amount of research can explain why, when Renjun had kissed Jaemin, Jaemin had kissed him back.

Maybe this loop isn’t a second chance at anything. Maybe it’s divine punishment— but for what exactly, Renjun isn’t sure. Maybe for the success he’d found in his field at a relatively young age. Maybe for all the things he’d pushed aside to get here.

To his surprise, Jaemin returns to the lab not long later with a mug in each hand, making his way over to Renjun’s bench without invitation. Their fingers brush as Renjun accepts the drink with a whispered thanks, finally finding the resolve to look up at him— but as expected, he finds no answers. Twenty-year-old Jaemin had nothing on the poker face Jaemin wears now.

Renjun takes a sip of the coffee. Then he freezes. Then he takes another sip to be sure.

Suddenly, the room feels very cold.

“How do you know I like my coffee with two sugars?”

Jaemin doesn’t move. For the briefest second, something ripples across his expression— surprise? Guilt? There’s a crease on his forehead when he looks back at Renjun. “What are you talking about? I only put one—”

“I know what coffee with two sugars tastes like, Jaemin.”

Renjun had only revealed this information once, when they’d sat at the galley together, the second iteration of Saturday, June 1st. There’s no other way Jaemin would know. The realisation feels like being dropped into the middle of the ocean, Renjun struggling to stay afloat in the freezing water. He sifts through his memories of the past week, even though the look on Jaemin’s face has already confirmed it— Jaemin believing him without question, Jaemin finding his spot on the second floor, Jaemin appearing in different places each day. Renjun had been so caught up in his own problems that he’d never paid close attention to see if Jaemin’s reactions were identical each day. And why would he have?

“You remember,” Renjun says over the roaring in his ears. “You fucking— you remember everything. Why have you been pretending you don’t?”

Jaemin doesn’t deny it. Renjun doesn’t understand him at all. Every time he thinks they’re making progress, that they might be able to get along like they once used to, he finds himself right back at square one. Renjun doesn’t remember standing but the next moment he’s on his feet, fists clenched painfully at his sides.

But if he thought that was the biggest bombshell Jaemin would drop tonight, he’s wrong.

“Tomorrow, the facility’s air compression system malfunctions,” Jaemin says quietly, gaze boring into his. “There’s a leak, and this whole place fills with water.” Renjun feels his heart still as Jaemin continues: “The alarm is raised in the morning so there’s enough time to evacuate. But by the end of tomorrow, Ultramarine is no more.”

“That’s impossible,” Renjun hears himself say.

“I’ve seen it happen.” There’s no trace of humour in Jaemin’s expression. Renjun knows in his heart he’s telling the truth. “You said you’ve never made it to Sunday, but I have— once. I watched this place get destroyed. I’ve been stuck on Saturday ever since.”

Renjun struggles to grasp the words, mind reeling. Ultramarine is his whole life. A shutdown is one thing— an accident means they’d lose everything in the facility without a chance to save it. Every piece of equipment, every bit of research. Everything Renjun has believed in and worked for over the past year.

“I’ve tried stopping what happens tomorrow, but nothing has worked. It’s difficult when you have to be careful and no one believes you. You would know.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Renjun asks, feeling no less distant than he had from Jaemin before they’d shared this. “I could’ve helped you.”

Jaemin looks away. “I don’t need your help.”

Renjun swallows. Of course that’s what this is about. The disadvantage of sharing the same dream is that they’d always been in direct competition— and when it came to academics, Renjun often came out on top. How nice it must feel for Jaemin to know something Renjun doesn’t. How nice for him to watch Renjun flounder each day, thinking Jaemin won’t remember their conversations. Renjun’s stomach lurches at the thought of their kiss. Had Jaemin let Renjun go ahead with that because he found it amusing, too?

“Or at least, that was what I thought,” Jaemin admits. “But I was wrong. I don’t think I can save this place alone.”

His admission takes Renjun by surprise. Jaemin is stubborn on a good day, but right now, there’s a sincerity in his eyes that reminds Renjun of the best version of Jaemin he used to know. That’s probably what leads Renjun to his decision. There are a hundred different questions spinning in Renjun’s mind like a centrifuge, but he pushes down any hurt and resentment in favour of the bigger picture.

“Fine,” Renjun says. “Then let’s save this place together.”

Renjun learns several things from Jaemin about Sunday’s accident:

1. Jaemin has spent the past week trying, unsuccessfully, to stop it by finding the source of the accident. According to the technicians, there had been a problem with the pressure last week that had been quickly resolved. All systems are back to running smoothly, and there’s no reason to believe that any sort of malfunction will occur.
2. There’s no foul play involved— Jaemin had spent a full day staking out in the control room just to be sure.
3. Leaving the facility isn’t exactly an option. It will take too long to arrange a trip back to the surface, and more importantly, it wouldn’t prevent anything. Since this had all started at Ultramarine, Jaemin is convinced that the key to solving it lies here, too.

None of this explains why Jaemin had been the only one to make it to Sunday before becoming stuck, but it seems moot to question it. No one loves Ultramarine more than Renjun, so really, there’s no one better than him for this job. And Jaemin seems to have begrudgingly accepted Renjun on board with him— for the most part.

“You’re wasting your time,” Jaemin says, frowning as Renjun heads for the lab to complete his daily tasks. “All of that work is pointless unless we can stop this.”

“You don’t know that. We don’t know when we’ll get unstuck. If I haven’t started on my report when that happens, I’ll be a day behind schedule.”

Jaemin looks like he wants to argue, but in the end, he doesn’t protest.

The only change to Renjun’s daily routine is that he starts backing up his research, saving a copy of his work over the past year onto a USB drive to take back to his room with him at the end of each day. Though he has every intention of stopping the accident with Jaemin, it can’t hurt to take precautions. After all, his research is the one thing he can’t afford to lose.

“What if we set off the alarm and force everyone to evacuate today?”

Days bleed into a week, and still they’re no closer than they had been to figuring out how to prevent the accident. The frustration has been accumulating, soaking into every inch of Renjun’s body and clouding his mind. It seems impossible to solve a problem without knowing the root cause. More than that, Renjun hates feeling useless, like Jaemin’s decision to keep the accident from him had been justified.

“It won’t stop the flooding tomorrow,” Jaemin says, sparing Renjun a glance before going back to the floor plan Renjun had acquired for him. “Like I said, no one can find the problem with the air compression system. It just fails. You could try setting off the alarm if you want,” he adds as Renjun deflates. “But you might get into trouble.”

Renjun lets his head fall into his hands. “I should’ve been an engineer.”

“No, research suits you,” Jaemin assures him. “It’s one line of work where being a Type A know-it-all works in your favour.”

Their lack of progress with the accident aside, there are a few things about being stuck in an endless loop of Saturdays with Jaemin that aren’t all that bad:

1. This arrangement is convenient. It’s easy to meet up with Jaemin and be seen with him around the facility when Renjun has been tasked with showing him around. Most importantly, Renjun wakes up each morning knowing that he’s not alone in this.
2. Although Jaemin has never admitted to it, telling Renjun about the accident seems to have taken a load off his shoulders. It feels like he’s opened up a little, lost some of the tension in his jaw. They haven’t fought in the last week.
3. Spending time with Jaemin is something Renjun has come to appreciate. Not every aspect of their past relationship had been plagued with animosity, and it’s almost easy to fall back into old habits. Tomorrow, Renjun’s life as he knows it could end. But sometimes, in spite of that, he finds himself just enjoying Jaemin’s company. Exchanging banter with him, laughing at one of Jaemin’s jokes. It’s almost as if—

“Are you making one of those lists in your head?” Jaemin asks. His expression is neutral, but the corners of his lips twitch at Renjun’s startled look. “You were, weren’t you? You get this look on your face when you do that. Kind of like—” Jaemin tilts his head and scrunches his nose in a way that actually looks kind of cute on him. Renjun is horrified.

“I was making a list of reasons I can’t stand you,” Renjun says, feeling the tips of his ears heat up when Jaemin just laughs.

They haven’t talked about the kiss. Renjun is beginning to accept that some landmines are better left unstepped on. Jaemin is watching him again, gaze softer than usual, and the room suddenly feels a lot smaller than it had minutes ago.

“It was bad luck for you to transfer the day before the accident,” Renjun murmurs. “You just got here and now you’re caught up in this. Must be the worst first day ever.”

Jaemin shrugs. “It was my choice to come here. I always wanted to— because you’re here.”

Renjun falls silent. By that Jaemin must mean he’d wanted to prove that he could make it anywhere Renjun could. He couldn’t possibly mean that he’d wanted to see Renjun again.

“Jaemin,” Renjun breathes. “I—”

Jaemin’s hand is on his cheek, pulling him in. Jaemin is kissing him. For a second it feels like time is suspended, the familiar taste of Jaemin’s lips against his, Renjun’s heartbeat thrumming in his chest. Renjun leans into it, hand coming up to rest on Jaemin’s shoulder.

And then he pushes Jaemin off.

“Why?” Renjun asks in a small voice, breath stuttering and cheeks warm, watching Jaemin’s expression close off once again. None of this makes any sense. “You were the one who broke up with me. And now you’re just going to kiss me like nothing’s changed?”

Six years of heartache. Six years of wondering if things could have been different. Six years of walking the path towards his dream without the person who meant most to him by his side. When Renjun had received the email inviting him to be a researcher at Ultramarine he’d been so elated that he’d grabbed his phone on reflex, remembering only a second later that he hadn’t talked to Jaemin in years.

“You kissed me last week,” Jaemin says dully. “Did you only do that because you thought I wouldn’t remember?”

“That was different,” Renjun stammers. “I—”

“It’s okay when you want something. But it’s never okay when I do, right?”

It would be a shame to ruin everything they’d built up over the past week. But this is all wrong. No matter what they do, it seems they can’t fight the reality— arguing comes so much more naturally to them than getting along. They’re like oil and water, unable to be mixed, incompatible down to their biology.

“You were right,” Renjun says, so quietly that he doesn’t realise at first he’s the one who said it. For years, he’d only ever heard the words in Jaemin’s voice. “We aren’t good for each other.”

Renjun doesn’t leave the lab the next day. It’s the first time since teaming up with Jaemin that they don’t spend the afternoon together; things feel just like they had after Jaemin dumped him all those years ago— Renjun struggling to stay afloat in a sea of helplessness, throwing himself into his work to fill the empty void that’s his life.

In the evening, Jaemin doesn’t knock on the door before coming in.

“The accident isn’t going to stop itself,” he says in a cautious tone that Renjun hates, standing a polite metre away from where Renjun is seated. “What’s the plan?”

“There’s no plan.” Renjun shuts his laptop. “Maybe it’s just not meant to be.” He’s tired. Nothing they’ve tried has brought them any closer to escaping the endless loop of Saturdays. Renjun is sick of living the same day over and over— sick of living the same heartbreak over and over. Everything seems so futile. He couldn’t save his relationship six years ago and now, he can’t save Ultramarine.

Jaemin’s expression hardens. “You graduated valedictorian of Seoul National University. Youngest researcher to be invited to work at South Korea’s first underwater research facility. Those are the accomplishments you’re so proud of, right? And now that you’re faced with a problem, you’re going to give up just like that?”

There’s bitterness in his voice. Anger flares up in Renjun, despite knowing that Jaemin is trying to provoke him. But with it rises something else, crystallised in a moment of clarity. It’s strange— in all the years Renjun has known him, Jaemin was never this persistent. Sure, he was incredibly smart and worked hard to get where he wanted, but he never cared about anything this much.

Slowly, Renjun rises to his feet. “Why does it matter so much to you?”

“Of course it matters,” Jaemin isn’t looking at him. “We have to figure this out or we’ll be stuck forever.”

“No,” Renjun says. “There’s something else.” Jaemin can’t possibly be that attached to Ultramarine— it’s his first day here. He’s never cared about research. Could it be recognition he’s after? But no— no one apart from them knows about the loop, which means no one will ever know if they manage to save this place. Is he trying to one-up Renjun? Prove that this is something Renjun would never have been able to accomplish on his own?

“What does it matter what I want?” Jaemin mutters. “It’s never mattered to you before.”

Guilt wells up in Renjun at his words. “It matters to me now.”

“A little late for that. Six years too late—”

“Jaemin,” Renjun says. “Why do you care so much about what happens tomorrow?”

“Because you die,” Jaemin snaps, finally looking up, pain unmasked in his eyes. “When the facility floods, everyone gets out safely— except you. You go back to the lab to save your research and you never make it out. I watched it happen, and I couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it.”

Renjun feels himself take a step back. He’s met with the familiar sensation of drowning once again. Saltwater stinging his eyes, filling his nose and lungs.

There’s a waver in Jaemin’s voice as he continues. “You thought this loop was a chance at a do-over, but you were only half right. This loop isn’t your second chance. It’s mine.”

Renjun thinks of Jaemin trying to solve this all on his own. His single-minded determination. The increasingly desperate look in Jaemin’s eyes when they met up outside the galley each day. All of it makes sense, if it’s Renjun’s life he’s been trying to save.

“But why didn’t you tell me?”

“Would you have believed me?” Jaemin asks, exhaustion bleeding into his voice. “Even if you believed me, would it have made a difference?”

“Of course it would make a difference,” Renjun swallows. “If I know what happens, I can try to avoid it.” He picks up the USB drive sitting on the table next to his laptop, holds it up for Jaemin to see. “I’ve been saving my research every day, see? But we’ve still been stuck on Saturday, so that can’t be the answer.”

“You still think about your work before you think about yourself,” Jaemin says. He sounds angry. “You really haven’t changed at all.”

Like a fishing line pulled taut, Renjun feels something in him snap.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Renjun’s words come out icy. Once he’s started everything spills out in a rush, uncontained. “You’re good at everything you do. People like you. Everyone wanted to be your friend in high school— even at university. I’m not like that. Nothing comes easily to me. Everything I’ve ever done was so that I could be here today. Without my research, I have nothing.”

“You’re wrong,” Jaemin says. “You have me.”

Something clicks into place then, a tectonic shift. All the times Jaemin had stayed up all night with him, picked him up from a long day at the lab and walked home with him, celebrated Renjun’s successes with him. All the times Renjun had brushed Jaemin off because he had work to do. The realisation feels like breaking through the surface of the water, a rush of cool air on skin. Jaemin had always cared about him. For some reason, Jaemin still cares about him now.

“I know I wasn’t perfect,” Jaemin says. “And I know I’m no good at being honest. But I’m trying.”

Renjun closes his eyes, feeling the shame churn in his gut. If anything, he’s the one who should be apologising.

“I didn’t mean any of the things I said at graduation,” Renjun confesses, throat tight as he takes a step forward. Jaemin is a good half a head taller than him, forcing Renjun to tilt his head up to look him in the eye. “I never thought you’d fail at anything you did. I knew you’d succeed. I just didn’t know how to own up to my mistakes and took everything out on you.” He takes a shaky breath. “But I really did love you. I still—”

Jaemin leans forward and kisses him. This time, Renjun kisses back. It’s not like the last time, a hesitant press of the lips, a question. This time it carries the weight of emotions behind it, Renjun dragging Jaemin closer and breathing him in. He tastes the desperation on Jaemin’s tongue, Renjun’s arms coming up automatically to wrap around Jaemin’s neck.

There’s a crash as Renjun knocks over the stool he’d been sitting on earlier, Jaemin backing him up against his workspace. Renjun barely notices it. This is inappropriate behaviour for the lab, he thinks, but as Jaemin nips at his lower lip with those teeth of his and Renjun swallows a gasp, he can’t find it in himself to care.

Renjun wakes up to the sound of alarms blaring.

It takes a few seconds for him to reorient himself, gather his bearings through the grogginess and over the shrill wail of the facility’s state-of-the-art emergency broadcast system. He’s in his room, in his bed— but he’s not alone.

“Jaemin?”

Their rooms in the facility are small. An extra person in here means Jaemin is pressed up against the full length of Renjun’s body, arm slung around his waist. Last night comes rushing back to Renjun at once— hands on skin, the heat of Jaemin’s lips against his neck. Renjun doesn’t even have time to feel embarrassed. Please proceed to the second floor exit, comes the automated voice over the speakers, as Jaemin sits up with a stricken expression on his face. Please proceed to the second floor exit.

“This is it,” Jaemin breathes. “This is Sunday.”

They get dressed in a hurry, Renjun’s mind buzzing as he fumbles for his clothes in the dark. He’s grown so accustomed to waking up to the same routine every day that this feels like he’s been thrown for a loop. And more importantly: why has Sunday finally come?

“You ready?” Jaemin asks. “Let’s—”

“Wait,” Renjun says, blood running cold as he feels around in his pockets, hands coming up empty. “My USB. I left it in the lab.”

Jaemin’s eyes darken. “No,” he says. “No way, you can’t go back there—”

The hallway outside is packed with researchers making their way out of their rooms, confusion visible on the faces around them. There’s a deafening crash from somewhere in the facility as Renjun steps outside, Jaemin right behind him. Nobody takes notice of them amidst the chaos; Renjun is pretty sure he feels the entire building shake.

“Holy fuck,” comes Donghyuck’s voice from nearby. “What the hell is going on?”

In the confusion, Renjun slips past the hallway providing a direct path to the exit, taking the stairs two at a time and heading upstairs for the marine botany lab. He makes it to the bridge before he hears Jaemin call out to him.

“Renjun,” yells Jaemin, lagging a short distance behind, a fear in his voice that Renjun has never heard before. “You can’t go back there— you know what happens. Forget the USB. We have to get out of here.”

Renjun looks down. The first floor is already flooded. A deep blue submerging the view Renjun had been so fond of, making his heart race. The bridge is literally over water now. Renjun takes a deep breath, tears his eyes away from what’s below.

“It’s different,” he says, backing away as Jaemin takes several steps towards him. They’re practically on opposite ends of the bridge now. “If today is Sunday, it means something’s changed, right? I already have everything saved on the USB. It’s different from last time. I just need to grab it.”

He’d been careless— brought Jaemin back to his room last night instead of his research, and now he’s paying the price. But Renjun can fix this. His USB contains every bit of work he’d poured his heart into over the past year. He needs it.

“Renjun,” Jaemin begs. “Please—”

Another tremor runs through the building; there’s a sickening creak from above, and Renjun looks up just in time to see one of the humpback whale models from the ceiling come hurtling downwards. It hits the bridge between him and Jaemin, bringing down the half of it connecting Renjun to the way they’d come. Jaemin shouts in surprise as the floor underneath him crumbles, and then he’s plummeting towards the water below.

“Jaemin!” Renjun runs to the edge of his half of the bridge and looks over the railing, breath caught in his throat.

After several heart-stopping seconds, Jaemin surfaces. “Renjun,” he shouts. “You have to get off the bridge. You have to jump.”

Renjun’s heart is threatening to beat its way out of his chest. He spares a glance upward at the remaining humpback whale model on the ceiling. If it falls on him, he’ll die. If he crosses the rest of the bridge and goes to the lab, he’ll have no way back. But neither of these possibilities are quite as terrifying as the thought of plunging two storeys into the freezing water below, into a blue so dark that it looks almost black.

“Renjun,” Jaemin yells again, head bobbing above the surface, ripples forming around him. “Please just trust me. Jump.”

Renjun stares down at the water, paralysed. “I can’t fucking swim,” he shouts back. “You know I can’t swim, I’ll drown—”

“I’ll catch you. I promise.”

Renjun remembers being eight years old and falling into the deep end of a pool, water encasing him, chlorine filling his nose and lungs. He’d been too afraid to learn how to float. He can’t possibly jump. He thinks of the aquarium, of the ocean, of Ultramarine. The bridge. His research. Jaemin promising to catch him.

Renjun jumps.

The fall isn’t what’s scary; water rushes up to meet him in what feels like a split second. It’s what comes next, the impact, the feeling of being enveloped in a sea of endless cold. Fear seizes him, but the next second Renjun feels arms grabbing onto him, dragging him upwards. They break the surface, Renjun gasping, Jaemin pulling him across the water.

“I’ve got you,” Jaemin pants, his voice an anchor. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

Renjun closes his eyes and trusts him. The water rushes over his ears and stings his eyes, but before he knows it he feels the ground underneath him, Jaemin pulling him into the stairwell and to his feet, hands on his shoulders.

“Hey,” Jaemin says, wet hair plastered to his forehead and water running down his face. He still looks every bit as beautiful as an Instagram model as he shivers. “You okay?”

Renjun can barely feel his own body, but he’s alive. Jaemin caught him, and he didn’t drown.

Renjun nods.

“Okay,” relief washes over Jaemin’s expression as he nods. “Go meet the others at the second floor exit. I’ll catch up with you.”

“What?” Renjun blinks up at him. “Where are you going?”

Jaemin’s mouth is set in a thin line. “I’ll go upstairs to the lab to get your USB. Even without the bridge, I can swim back the same way. I’m the only one who has a shot at saving your research now.”

Renjun’s USB contains an entire year of his hard work conducting analysis and writing reports. The effort had extended far beyond that— formulating his topic, writing proposals, applying for funding. It was what he’d dedicated all his time to, and he knows without a doubt he’ll never be able to replicate it. Renjun expects the decision to be a lot harder to make than it is.

“No,” he says, grabbing Jaemin’s hand. “Fuck the research. It’s too dangerous.”

Jaemin’s eyes are wide. “But—”

“No,” Renjun repeats. “You’re more important to me.”

They don’t exchange another word as they make their way to the second floor exit. Renjun doesn’t let go of Jaemin’s hand until Ultramarine is fifty metres beneath them, crumbling to rest on the ocean floor. This time, he knows he’s made the right decision.

“Everything that happened was similar to the very first Sunday I experienced,” Jaemin says. “The first time, I followed you to the bridge and ended up in the water. I told you to jump— but you wouldn’t. That’s the one thing that changed.”

The rescue ferry had docked North of Mokpo, leaving the former occupants of Ultramarine gathered on the pier like fish out of water. All around him, Renjun hears panicked voices as people make calls to their loved ones to share the news. The only person Renjun is interested in sharing this news with is already sitting right next to him.

Jaemin squeezes his eyes shut, forehead coming to rest on his knees. “I really thought it was going to happen all over again. Fuck. I thought you weren’t going to jump—”

“But I did,” Renjun says. “Because I trusted you.”

The key to escaping the loop had never been to prevent the accident. Trusting Jaemin had saved Renjun’s life. Choosing Jaemin had been what mattered. Tomorrow, the news about Ultramarine’s collapse will be splashed across every major headline in the country, but for now, Renjun scoots closer and soaks in the feeling of having someone by his side once more.

“You were wrong, you know. The loop wasn’t just a chance for you to save me. It was a second chance for me, too.”

Jaemin’s hand is warm in his. The sun is only just beginning to rise, painting the sky in hues of yellow and reflecting off the surface of the water. From up here, the view is beautiful.

The best things about working at South Korea’s first rebuilt underground research facility with Jaemin are:

1. The marine botany lab at Ultramarine 2.0 is located directly next to the marine ecosystems lab. Renjun can visit Jaemin whenever he wants, and there’s no harm in cultivating a little healthy competition between them. Renjun’s most recently published research paper has been cited thirty-four times, as opposed to Jaemin’s twenty-nine. Not that Renjun is keeping score.
2. Renjun loves his job, but it’s no longer his whole life. He actually looks forward to monthly trips back to the mainland these days. Hotpot tastes much better when you have someone to share it with you.
3. They still argue all the time— Donghyuck categorically refuses to enter any room that both Jaemin and Renjun are in at the same time— but they’re also better at setting aside their differences, making compromises. It’s all part of life, and Renjun is glad to have Jaemin to navigate it with him. After all, he has no idea what surprises tomorrow might bring.