Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Seongje notices two things as he comes to.

1. A pounding headache making him wish for death
2. A heavy weight crushing his chest

There's a steady stream of sunlight coming through the half pulled curtains over the windows on his left. Seongje groans as he blinks his eyes, trying to make sense of his surroundings. He tries to lift his hands, only to realise his entire left arm is numb. If the thing- person on top of him doesn't move right now.. He exhales and looks around at the nice walls, neatly arranged possessions and the warm bed under him, then confirms his suspicion. 

Yeah, fuck, this is definitely not the shitty room inside the dingy motorbike place he last remembers being in.

Seongje tries to recall anything that might clue him in on how the fuck he ended up here, only to be assaulted by the splitting headache again. He was definitely sprawled on the makeshift bed at Daesung bikes as far as he can remember. He didn't have any plans of going out, too busy sulking in there with his poor wounded foot.

Or maybe he changed his mind and got black out drunk and ended up in a stranger's bed.. which doesn't sound right. 

Whatever it is, first he needs to get the snoring lump off of him. 

“Hey.”

Seongje looks down to get a proper look at the other, he couldn't see much -just a mop of soft brown hair and.. everything else covered by the blanket.

He sighs when he receives no response and shakes them a bit. Instead of moving away, the other mutters something inaudible and just snuggles closer, hugging him tighter.

Great. He just had to pick a clingy motherfucker to destress. Patience run thin, he snaps at the other using his working arm to shove harder.

“Yah. Get off me, damn it.”

The other grumbles some more nonsense, but finally twists away enough for him to shuffle out of the bed.

Seongje quickly eyes the bedside table for his glasses and thankfully finds it placed carelessly next to -he presumes- the other's. He slips them on and scans for his phone, all the while the headache kissing behind his eyes.

“Seongje?”

He pauses at the call and turns around. So he had given his name, and what might this guy's name be? He thinks about it for a second then decides he doesn't give a shit.

The other is sitting up now, lips puckered slightly and eyes barely open with their hair a mess. The boy looks a bit older than him, but Seongje couldn't be sure with how small he is. He also looks vaguely familiar, but that's all he can recall. He grudgingly thinks at least he picked a cute one to spend the night with.

“You're going somewhere?” The other continues, pulling Seongje's attention back as he realizes he is just standing there staring at the boy like a fucking idiot.

“Well, duh.” He replies simply. “Can’t stay in bed with you forever.” 

Seongje doesn't do one night stands. It is definitely not his style. The couple of times he tried, they didn't even make it out the bar. Because where is the romance? Where is the passion, the thrill, the chase? He doesn't believe in the notion of pleasuring himself with just a single night. So just what did he see in this guy to break his norms? 

The boy squints at him, but doesn't say anything. Seongje turns to the table again, poking at the five items on it. 

“Where is my phone?” He asks the other as he starts pulling out the draws.

Seongje hears a faint rustling as the smaller shifts the blankets to look. After a moment he hands it over to Seongje, which he takes wordlessly and swipes open.

“No really, why are you up this early?” the boy questions through a yawn, which goes completely ignored. 

Wait.

He tilts his head at his wallpaper. The picture is a bit blurry, but the smiling boy with dimples and glasses is one hundred percent not Seongje. He raises his head, looks at the other -now wearing the other pair of glasses he spotted on the table- and then back at the phone. He does this a couple of times, the other looking at him confused.

“What?”

“This is not mine.” Seongje shoves the phone back in the other's face, almost punching the guy's nose with it.

“Uh.. yes it is?” the boy says, looking at him weirdly and then gets off the bed coming to stand next to Seongje.

“The fuck you mean it’s mine? Clearly, it's your face on the damn screen!” Seongje snarks, a bit of frustration bleeding through his voice. “Who's the hippy looking nerd with glasses between the two of us?”

The boy bristles at that and shoots him a sour look.

“You are the one who insisted on keeping it when I told you not to, why are you insulting me over it now?!”

He did? Just what the hell happened yesterday? 

Seongje almost forgets his headache, with how baffling this whole morning is turning out to be. Is he stuck in some weird dream? Is he still asleep? 

Seongje is questioning his existence, when a gentle touch on his forehead startles him. 

“Are you okay? I told you not to drink so much, Seongje.” 

Seongje stills, momentarily stumped at the genuine worry in the tone and the warmth from the touch. Is this part of the one night stand culture? So the next morning goes like this? Is this the supposed appeal? He wonders, feeling strange, as the other continues muttering something about stupid bosses and team dinners. Seongje clears his throat and steps away scoffing. Worrying about a stranger? What a fucking joke.

“I am fine. Stop your fussing.” He clenches his jaw feeling ticked.

He's not done speaking when he feels a sharp tug on his ear, a very painful tug. Seongje is stunned into silence by the audacity of the action. Nobody dares to touch his face, much less pull his ear like he's a damn toddler.

“You dare give me this attitude, when it's your fault, hm.” The other hisses with a sharp glare and then starts dragging him by the ear like a fucking dog. 

“Ow, fuck, yo-you.. shit! Let go!” Seongje yells, but has no choice other than to follow the boy if he doesn't want his ear to be torn off. He grabs the bastard's wrist and tries wringing it away, only to end up pulling his own ear and cursing in pain.

The shorter man stops at a door, opens it and then promptly shoves Seongje inside before closing it in his face. 

Seongje clutches at his ear, trying to soothe the pain. Fucking hell, what if it had come off his head? He shudders at the mental image. He just lost a foot, he can't afford to lose another body part so soon. He glances down at his injured foot then, only to realize it has stopped aching. He frowns wondering how the hell it healed so fast.

“Clean yourself up and come outside, Seongje-yah. I will have your hangover soup ready!” He hears the little shit chirp at him and walk away from the door. 

He heaves a sigh, thinking might as well. Then scowls at his own thoughts. Fuck, he should be giving a taste of his fists to the other, not listening to his orders like a puppy. He debates on marching out the door, beating the shit out of the guy, getting his phone back and then leaving this fucking place. Yeah, that's right. Decided, he pats himself down for his cigarette pack when he catches his reflection on the mirror. 

He pauses, bracing himself with his hand on the sink and leaning over to get a good look. His usually messy hair that falls over his eyes is now cut neatly, barely reaching halfway down his forehead. And his face.. though the same looks more defined. Did he cut his hair last night? He is impulsive.. but what is this chopped ass monstrosity he has done to his hair?

He runs his fingers through his hair, turning his head this way and that way disgusted with his past self. That's when his eyes fall on his hands. His eyes widen and he brings it up to have a closer look. A simple band with a small stone in the middle, but obviously a wedding ring, shines on his finger.

Don't tell me..

He examines the ring for a moment, then lets out a derisive laugh. 

“Ah, fuck me.”

Though, he has to admit despite the confusion, he is very much interested in the sudden turn of events. Fuck it, he's just going to roll with it for now.

He quickly washes his face and steps out. He stretches his hands above his head, rolling his neck a couple of times, then winces as his headache flares. He starts walking around, scanning the room. A big closet, a dressing table with various products arranged neatly, a bookstand filled with comics at the corner of the room and of course, the queen sized bed at the center. He comes to a stop at the bedside table again, snorting as he picks up the small frame he had missed earlier in his annoyance. 

The person in the picture looks a bit different, but that's him, standing next to the guy from earlier. Seongje's in a black suit, uncharacteristically well put together and his hair is the same as he remembers, messy, but styled well in an artistic way. He stares at himself in the photo for a minute. It is him, he's sure of that, but there's something about the man in the picture that is making it hard for him to accept it is so.

“How fucking weird..” he whispers under his breath. 

He's still in a daze, eyes locked onto himself, trying to figure out what is so unsettling about it, when the other guy walks into the room.

“Staring at this again?”

Seongje blinks a bit at that, shaking himself out of his thoughts. 

“Well, I look handsome as fuck.” He answers, absentminded. 

He hears an amused huff from the other which finally makes him tear his eyes away and look at the boy next to him. Seongje's throat goes dry and he forgets whatever sarcastic remark he was about to bite out. It's the exact image from the wallpaper, except the effect is a hundred times worse in person. Face open, big brown eyes gentle with warmth and lips curled upwards in a fondness unexpected from a stranger. This little bastard..

When was the last time someone ever looked at Seongje like that? Or when has anyone ever looked at Seongje like that?

One. 

Two..

Seongje looks away first.

Fucking hell.

____

The dining table is filled with quiet noises of cutleries clinking and Seongje's obnoxious slurping. The soup tastes surprisingly good, even his headache is magically gone now. At least, the loser can cook. 

Seongje observes everything around curiously. The house is modest but looks cozy and lived in with a nice couch facing the tv. Yet another bookshelf is pushed up against one corner with more comics and books. This guy is a total nerd it seems, he notes lazily. The kitchen though, is fancier and better equipped than he expected it to be. He's staring at the little pots stacked at the balcony when the other -he needs to get his damn name- speaks up.

“Are you feelin-?”

“What’s your name?” Seongje cuts in, staring at the other. 

“W-what?” The other gives him a bewildered look.

Did he cast a spell on Seongje to trap him? Is he a witch? Seongje is not beyond believing in witchcraft. Honestly, he might be very intrigued if that's the case. Or more boringly, did he drug Seongje? 

He sets his spoon down, facing the other taking in his concerned look. Look at this fucking loser, is he really worried about Seongje? Or is it an act? If they got married yesterday, does it make sense for this guy to care about Seongje this much?

Seongje lets out a noncommittal hum, drumming his fingers on the table. “Your name, little guy.”

“My name.” The other repeats, eyes narrowed in doubt. Seongje just picks up “his” phone humming and checks the time.

10:35 am. 

It was around 6 pm last evening, when he crashed at Daesung bikes. So in roughly 17 hours, he got drunk out of his mind, cut his hair, met a guy, felt interested enough to not only fuck him but also exchange wedding rings in full suit and got it framed in picture as well. Sounds insane and absolutely impossible, even for someone like him. It's like he jumped straight into a shitty drama. He chuckles at the absurdity of this all

The boy raises an eyebrow at him questioningly.

“This is so fucking funny.” Seongje answers, waving a hand dismissively. “To think that a day ago I was a free man. Now I have a cute nerdy wife.” Then he starts giggling, unable to control himself. 

That only makes the other guy look at him alarmed, his brows furrowing, lips downturned in thought.

Seongje quiets down a bit then, “Hey, don't look so worried, little guy.” He picks up his spoon again, sipping his soup and looks at him amused, “You are worried about this, right?” He lifts his hand up, waving it in front of the other. “Let's just pretend this never happened. It's not even legal, ya know.”

The shorter looks like he's over Seongje's nonsense and starts talking through gritted teeth, “What the fuck are you talking about? Pretend like what never happened? Are you serious? We have been married for a year now, Seongje. Legally.”

Huh.

Clearly, Seongje would know if he had been married for a whole fucking year. Right?

The other glares at him seemingly not done yet, “Are you trying to rile me up on purpose? You have been acting weird since waking up. Seriously, what the hell did you drink at dinner yesterday?”

Fuck if Seongje knows. He thought he had the situation figured out. But apparently the fuck not.

His skin buzzes as a wild thought crosses his mind. He scrolls through his phone, opening up the calendar. As soon as he sees the date, he curses. 

14 April, 2031.

Everything makes sense to Seongje now, well not entirely. But it explains certain things. Like his changed appearance, his healed foot, and most importantly the guy sitting in front of him. His husband. 

Oh, man, this just got infinitely more interesting. Rationally, Seongje should be scared, he should be losing his fucking mind over the fact he is stranded in a weird alternate universe or something, but unfortunately Seongje is an irrational, crazy motherfucker. 

So, he looks at the other, dead in his eyes smiling widely and announces. “Little guy.. I think I just travelled to the fucking future.”

“What?” The poor guy looks at Seongje like he's lost his marbles.

“Or you just kidnapped me and are playing a mean prank on me.” He leans forward to whisper at him and grins like this is the best thing ever happened to him. The other just balks at him, mouth open in disbelief. Seongje relishes at the multitude of expressions crossing the other's face, as he must have drawn some conclusions of his own as well.

“You are yet to give me your name, dear husband.” Seongje asks, the deranged smile still on his face.

His little husband looks like he's having a stroke, but still manages to croak out, “J-juntae.. Seo Juntae.”

Seo Juntae.. where has he heard that name before. Seongje thinks hard for a moment, then it clocks him as he takes in the plump cheeks, pouty lips and those wired glasses. 

Oh.

Oh, this is going to be fun.

Chapter Text

Seongje feels like Juntae isn't very thrilled about the current situation. Oh well, Seongje finds this fucking hilarious. 

Juntae keeps staring at him for a while, like he's processing everything. Then he gets up and walks around the table to him. Before he even opens his mouth, Juntae's hands are on his head, fingers running through his hair, tilting his head and examining it. He feels fingers pressing every inch of his scalp as if searching for something.

Is this guy looking for a head injury right now?

“Hey, I didn't hit my head.” Seongje tells him, genuinely offended. So this bastard didn't believe a single word he said. His own fingers close around the other's wrist. “Yah, Eunjang.“

Juntae goes still at that, tilting his head down to finally look at Seongje. So it is him. The little loser that hangs around those other Eunjang clowns.

He watches as Juntae swallows, face unreadable. “It's Juntae. Not Eunjang.” the other says after a moment of silence, sounding almost bitter.

“Why? Because you're no longer from Eunjang or you're no longer sticking with those Eunjang losers? Seeing as you are married to me.” Seongje grins, then adds in a mocking tone. “Legally too.” 

He sees Juntae's lips twist -neither a smile nor a frown- as he looks away, then murmurs, almost too quiet for Seongje to hear. “Hah, I really had forgotten..” 

“Forgotten what?”

He meets Seongje's eyes, voice dull. “That you were an infuriating asshole.”

That startles a laugh out of Seongje. Though Juntae's appearance reminds him of a harmless little lamb, he is bold. Stupidly, dangerously bold. Seongje cannot deny, he is intrigued. 

He gives a sharp tug at the other's wrist still in his clasp and smirks at the little gasp of surprise from the other.

“You sound like you know me so well, little lamb.” 

Another gasp, and then Juntae starts struggling to free himself from his hold. Seongje doesn't let up, instead tightening his hold as his eyes glint in warning. Juntae doesn't back down, his glare only hardening and pinning Seongje in place. Neither one is willing to give in so they are stuck glaring at each other. Seongje waits, and then waits a few more seconds for the overwhelming itch to take over, urging him to beat the crap out of the other. But even as he feels irked, he can't bring himself to get violent.

Interesting. 

Eventually, after a moment, Seongje releases the other and exhales lightly. He turns back to the now lukewarm soup and starts downing it like the past few minutes never happened.

Seongje expects that to be the end of it, but Juntae keeps standing right there, rubbing his wrist and muttering under his breath. He tries ignoring it, but when it seems like the other has no intention of walking away, Seongje turns to him.

“What.” 

Juntae gives him a quick once over. “I think.. you must have hurt your head and ended up losing your memories. Since you don't remember anything or feel any pain, it's better to have you checked at the hospital.”

Frankly that sounds more logical than whatever sci-fi bullshit he just spouted out. But he isn't about to admit that aloud. 

Instead he simply says, “No.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

The other lets out a frustrated noise, looking about ready to drag Seongje out by his hair. And Seongje believes the fucker actually would, seeing as he pulled his ear with zero hesitation or remorse. He sees the smaller take a deep breath, and stalk closer to him looking determined. His ear immediately tingles with phantom pain in response to his previous assault. 

Seongje is up in an instant. “Fine. You don't have to beg.” He shoots an easy smile and quickly starts walking towards the door. 

Juntae stands rooted, blinking in surprise at him. “Hurry up before I change my mind, Eunjang.” Seongje prompts when the other just stands there staring. That gets Juntae moving and he grabs his phone and wallet, then picks up two coats from the rack in the hallway as he makes his way over and hands one to Seongje without a word. Seongje swallows and shrugs it on quietly. Then they are out and on the way to the hospital in silence.

____

Their little trip to the hospital was a complete waste of time.

It went exactly as Seongje had expected. After thorough examination, there wasn't any external factor causing his sudden “loss of memory” whatsoever. Still, Juntae insisted on getting him fully tested and scanned, when the doctor suggested it might also be due to severe stress and pressure. Juntae thinks it's absurd he lost nearly 8 years of his memory due to stress. So they returned back with no real conclusion and an appointment to have Seongje studied like a lab rat.

Now they are both seated in the living room couch, with Seongje surfing through different channels just to have some noise, as his only company seems too busy stewing inside his own head.

“I told you so. I'm not hurt.” Seongje tells him.

“Yes, Seongje. I heard you the first 50 times clearly.” Juntae replies drily. 

“Great, then are you ready to believe that I am indeed a time traveller?” Seongje should've given himself more credit, he almost doubted his excellent deducing skills earlier.

“Time traveller, my ass. Talking as if you broke through dimensions to get here yourself.”

“Why should I, when the universe decided to do it for me.” Sure, the universe could have dropped him in a more useful timeline, like the year he met Baekjin, so he could've punched the fucker in his face and refused him from the start. Would he have made a different choice knowing how little that bastard thought of him? Seongje hates that his answer is something other than an absolute rejection.

It was always this way with Baekjin. Seongje likes to believe he is the type to have clear lines on his thoughts. If he wants, he wants it. If he doesn't, then he cuts it off without a glance back. But Baekjin muddles all those lines, drawing crosses and circles all over them, stringing him and pushing him at the same damn time. He wonders idly, what Baekjin might be doing right now. Will the Baekjin from the current time be the same as the one he knew from 8 years ago? 

“Hey..” Juntae's voice pulls him back. “You sure you don't remember anything? Nothing at all?” A silver of hope colors his voice and his eyes gleam expectant.

That's right, Seongje thinks. This is fine too.

Seongje clutches his head, putting on a sudden show of pain. He groans a bit to sell it and the reaction is immediate. Juntae is on his side in a heartbeat, voice beyond worried.

“Why, what's wrong? Are you hurting? Tell me, where does it hurt?” His little hands flutter about Seongje's head, worried but also careful not to hurt him further. He is almost touched.

Seongje peeks at the other's troubled face and couldn't keep the glee off his own. Juntae's face twists in confusion, quickly morphing to anger in realization. His eyes glisten with unshed tears and he seems to be doing his best not to spill them.

“Wah, Eunjang. You really love me, huh.”

He hears Juntae inhale shakily as he calms himself down. Seongje runs his tongue along his teeth, studying the other's face like reading out a game map. He slumps back against the couch satisfied for now, though he expected a more explosive reaction. Seems his little husband is tougher than he had judged.

Seongje pulls out his cigarette and lighter from his sweats, finally looking away from the other. He sticks it in his mouth and clicks the lighter, only to have them both snatched from him.

“Where did you get this from?” Juntae questions him in disbelief. His face is still flushed from earlier and Seongje admits he looks adorable like that.

“Magic~” Seongje wiggles his finger. 

“I'm serious, Seongje. Did you find it here?”

“I'm serious, too. The universe asked me to pick an item to never run out of before sending me here.” Seongje grins at the irritation creeping on the other's face. The truth is, Seongje very politely asked a random man he sniffed out outside the hospital to lend him one, when Juntae was busy at the reception inquiring about their lab dates.

“You know what, it doesn't matter. But you're not smoking again. Don't even think about it.” Juntae stresses each word, making it clear he's very serious about this.

“That sounds like an order.” Seongje straightens up and extends his arm. “Give it back while I'm being nice, Eunjang.” Honestly, he's impressed he had gone this long without a single drag. As far as he remembers, other than sleeping, nothing has ever held him back for hours from smoking. But this Eunjang fucker has managed to keep him occupied enough to forgo it. 

“You quit.” Juntae bites out, when Seongje reaches out intending to snatch it back. 

Seongje pauses at that and the other clarifies, “I mean he quit, the older you. It's been a few years now. It was an absolute hell for him. From the start till the end.” Juntae looks up at him, a smile curved around something like pride, “But.. he finally did it.” Juntae's fingers tighten around the cigarette and the lighter, his eyes hardening, “He did it.. my Seongje did it. And I won't let you ruin it.” Juntae's voice is final, no room left for any compromise.

Seongje sits there stunned, his heart racing, unable to respond. All the words long left his throat, the moment he met those resolute eyes. So unmoving. Were those the same eyes that trembled with tears a while ago? To think that such emotion is driven by Seongje himself -well at least his older self. He's so curious. He's so fucking curious, he feels like his heart might stop beating. 

“Hah.. fuck.” Seongje manages to let out hoarsely, “That's so fucking romantic, little lamb.” 

He feels Juntae shiver at that. He closes the distance in a flash and traps Juntae between himself and the armrest. The other presses himself back further, throat bobbing and eyes widening at their sudden proximity. Seongje doesn't touch, but he feels the heat of the other's body well through the fabric of his shirt.

He holds Juntae's eyes and whispers like the question is worth a million dollars, “Why did you marry me?”

Seongje needs to know. 

Juntae sucks in a breath, lashes fluttering, caught off guard by the question and Seongje's excessive intensity to it. This time though, Juntae is the first to look away. Seongje chases, trying to catch those eyes again. Look at me. He feels Juntae is not fast enough in answering. And maybe, he won't be satisfied with whatever answer the other might offer. And maybe, he wants to break inside his skull and look for it himself, tear open and stare, and stare, and stare at it till he feels content.

The sound of the doorbell rings through the apartment. Juntae jolts like he's been shaken awake and quickly shoves Seongje away. He mutters a “stay here” and rushes off to the door. Seongje blinks a bit to clear his fogged up brain. His pulse is still thundering, and he feels the ghost of body heat from Juntae that has stuck to him, start to disappear. He squashes the surge of disappointment it brings with it.

Seongje's not sure if 8 years has changed anything in Baekjin or not, but it seems it definitely has in him.

He hears hushed voices -only Juntae's really- from the front door and decides to go check. The front door is open wide enough just to let Juntae stick his head out and talk to whoever is outside. He saunters over and promptly yanks it wide open. Juntae stumbles a bit from the force and Seongje steadies him by his arm.

The two men shift their attention to him, Juntae's pupils shaking in a bit of panic. Seongje suppresses a grin before turning to the stranger. 

“Hey.” He greets blandly.

“Wow, happy to see you too, motherfucker.” The guy seems to be around Juntae's and his older self's age. He's dressed in a simple grey hoodie and tracks. And just from the way he greeted Seongje, this guy is probably a close friend of theirs. But he can't be sure, since every other person Seongje has met, calls him a motherfucker. Nevertheless, he quirks a lazy grin at the newcomer.

“Suho!” Both of them snap their heads at Juntae's sudden outburst. The other looks surprised at himself then quickly recovers, plastering a smile so fake, even Seongje cringes internally. “Um.. thanks for dropping this, Suho.”

Suho. Suho. Another familiar name.

“Seongje's kinda sick now. So, we can hang out later, okay? Tell grandma and Sieun I said hi..”

Yeon Sieun.. Newbie? Aha, this must be Ahn Suho, then. The sleeping beauty has woken up, it seems. Seongje also vaguely recalls this guy being a former MMA fighter. Well, in that case..

Seongje swings his fist straight towards the other without any warning. He hears Juntae yelp and jump back in surprise.

His fist is, sadly, dodged by Suho as he turns his body sideways. But Seongje follows up with his left hand aiming for the head which the other ducks under easily enough. He ignores Juntae's call and throws his next punch and is blocked just as easily with a folded arm. The plastic bag with the container still hangs from the guy's right hand. Impressive.

“What the hell, man?” Suho complains as he steps back, looking unfazed. “Juntae, you sure he is sick?” Seongje steps back as well, some of his frustration -he wasn't aware he had held in- having bled out.

“..yes.” Juntae mutters tiredly, rubbing his temples.

“Sick in his head, for sure.” Suho scoffs. He turns to Seongje with an eyebrow raised, “Mind telling me what that was about?”

Seongje smirks faintly, rolling his shoulders, “No reason, just letting out some steam I guess.”

“Tch, whatever. Keep me out of your weird foreplay, dude.”

Seongje's grin only widens. Oh, Seongje likes this guy.

Seongje hears a long, suffering sigh from next to him. Having had his fill of fun, he decides to have mercy on his little husband. He coughs a couple of times, fooling no one and retreats back inside after shooting a quick wave to Suho. He doesn't miss how Juntae's ears are on fire. Cute.

He is back on the couch, the tv still droning on about some wildlife, when he hears the front door shut accompanied by the rustle of plastic as Juntae walks towards the kitchen. He turns, resting his arms on the back of the couch, following Juntae with his eyes.

“What's that?” He asks as the other pulls it out and settles it on the counter.

“Kimchi.” Juntae answers, then adds after a thought as if to explain why they are having kimchi delivered on a Saturday evening, “It's from Suho's grandma. She sends a portion whenever she's making a batch.”

“Ah.” He says, like it makes sense to him. He watches as the other carefully opens the container, then transfers some of it to another empty glass jar he retrieved from the cupboard. Seongje's eyes capture every movement, almost hypnotized, unable to look away. 

“Do you want some now?” Juntae asks when he catches Seongje staring. 

“Nah, I'm good.”

The other nods then tells him he might as well start their dinner given the time. Seongje doesn't protest and helps by keeping his mouth shut as per Juntae's sincere request. And there's actually a few moments of peaceful cooking before Seongje speaks again, curious.

“Do we do that often?”

Juntae doesn't pause his chopping and says, “You and Suho? Yeah, you guys spar often. And work out together sometimes.” Then mutters under his breath, “And thank god for that.”

Seongje hums, “Hm, as ecstatic as I'm to hear that, I meant us.”

Juntae's hands halt, knife hovering over the chopping board, then looks up at him with brows furrowed, “Us?”

“Yes, the weird foreplay.”

Seongje swiftly dodges the carrot thrown at his head.

Dinner is quiet as Juntae asks Seongje to eat his food in silence and they can discuss everything tomorrow since he is really done for the day. Seongje thinks it's the age speaking, but doesn't comment.

They are almost done eating when Juntae brings up their sleeping arrangement.

“No way. You can sleep on the couch.”

“Why? We're married, for fuck’s sake.” Seongje whines, annoyed.

“I'm not sleeping with a high schooler.” Juntae says, voice firm.

“Says the one who clung to me like a koala this morning.” Seongje shoots back.

“T-that, I d-didn't know then!” Juntae stutters flustered. 

“What does it matter? This body is older anyway.” Seongje says finding this a bit ridiculous. “You sleep on the couch then. You are shorter, so it's perfect. I doubt my legs would fit."

Offended but unable to counter, Juntae picks at his food glumly, lips pulled down. Each passing second only has the pout on his face deepen. Seongje shifts in his seat, feeling unfairly uncomfortable.

Sure, I'm the high schooler here. 

“Fucking fine. I will take the couch.” He grinds out, shoving food into his mouth aggressively. 

Juntae brightens up immediately. “Thank you, Seongje-yah!”

Fuck, if he's folding this fast. He's horrified to even think of his present self.

___

Sleep evades him. And it's not entirely because he is laid awkwardly trying to fit his legs into a more comfortable position. He keeps tossing for a while on the couch, then sits up cursing.

He picks up his phone from the coffee table. This has been running through his mind since morning and it had become background noise during the day because of Juntae. But now that he's left to himself, it's harder to push it back. He pulls up the browser tab and starts typing in.

Yeongdeungpo Union|

All that pops up is details on the Yeondeungpo district, some sort of worker's union in the area, some hotels named union and more useless shit. Seongje types again with different key words but nothing relevant pops up. Not a single article or site that might indicate something like the union existed, not even those stupid sites that kept tabs on the union members internally like some fan page. After wasting about an hour surfing, Seongje locks the phone and flops back onto the couch.

Just, what the fuck happened to the union? How come it disappeared like it never existed? Could it be that it doesn't exist in this universe? 

This won't do. He knows he could ask Juntae in the morning, but he has to check it out for himself before hearing anything from others. Pocketing his phone, he glances at Juntae's curled figure on the bed on his way out. Well, at least one of them is sleeping tonight. He wears his shoes and jacket, slipping out into the quiet night.

Seongje is usually better at navigating through maps, but all the new changes around the neighbourhood is fucking with his brain. After only about 15 wrong turns, he spots the familiar building. The name board is dark, almost incomprehensible and the door leading to it is locked with chains completely brown with rust. The building looks even worse. This seems to be closed for a very, very long time. He sighs, fleetingly considering breaking in, then quickly discards it thinking it's too much hassle.

From there, it was pretty easy for him to find the bowling alley. Which is also closed but it seems to be renovated into some sort of office? He squints through the glass door, trying to get a good look. 

He had one more place on his mind to check out, but he stalks back to the apartment, feeling thoroughly drained. He really needs a smoke, damn it.

Juntae finds him outside the convenience store near the apartment, sitting and staring out the empty street. The older man looks frazzled, his frantic expression melting into relief once he spots Seongje lounging there. 

“You seem to be in a hurry, Eunjang.” Seongje notes gesturing towards the other -mussed hair, fogged up glasses, coat thrown over haphazardly and the fluffy house slippers.

Juntae wordlessly pulls the chair across from him and sits. His eyes land on the cigarette hanging from Seongje's lips, face pinched. Seongje wants to spit some harsh words just to make the frown deepen until it turns ugly. 

Instead what comes out is, “Don't worry, little lamb. It's not lit.” And that should suffice but, “Your ugly face keeps haunting me when I try to, fuck.” He feels the need to add this.

Juntae's lips part in surprise at that. Then, “Thank you.” the other tells him, voice earnest.

He wants to dig his nails and scrap it right off the other's face. The problem? He couldn't. He couldn't smoke, couldn't resort to violence, couldn't do anything but bend to those fucking eyes and face. Maybe it's the instincts of this body, he muses. Fuck this, Seongje can't stand it anymore. He spits out the cigarette and gets up, chair scraping across the concrete. He starts speeding down the road without waiting for the other. 

Juntae sidles up to him in no time. “Where were you? I called you so many times. Why didn't you pick up your phone? You could've let me know if you wanted to go somewhere.”

Seongje pulls the phone out of his jacket, stares at the black screen. “It's dead.” he replies as a matter of fact. 

Juntae sighs, “Next time just wake me. No matter how late it is, I will take you.” 

Seongje huffs, “Jeez, I won't let anything happen to your Seongje.” He wanted to keep his voice light, but he knows he failed by the way Juntae blinks at him taken aback. “What? Don't act like that's not all you care about.”

“No! It's not like that.. I mean.. you're Seongje too..” the other trails off sounding unsure.

“Yeah, yeah. Just not your Seongje, right?” 

Juntae looks away at that, silent. Of course, why would he care about him? This Seongje is too volatile, too unpredictable, too savage. His older self probably became normal enough as he grew, maybe the union disappearing played a part in it. And somehow, someone like Juntae ended up falling in love with him. 

The rest of the walk back to the apartment is silent save for the sound of their footsteps. And Seongje hated that, at some point, he slowed down to match the other’s pace despite himself.

Seongje immediately sprawls on the couch, dropping his glasses on the coffee table as soon as they enter the house. 

Juntae lingers by the bedroom door for a moment. “I was serious. Please don't go out alone again.”

“I think I misheard you.” Seongje lifts his head and stares at him incredulously, “Yah, Eunjang. That sounds an awful lot like a house arrest.”

“I'm just worried you might end up locked in a psych ward.” He pauses like he remembered something, then continues, “And don't go swinging at random people either.”

The audacity of this little shit. “Are you calling me a fucking lunatic?”

“You are calling yourself a time traveller.” Juntae deadpans at him.

“I am. It's not my fault you lack sense.” Seongje grumbles, feeling defensive. 

Juntae stifles a laugh at him. “Sure. Just don't go around running your mouth about it.” He smiles at Seongje, then disappears inside his room with a soft, “Good night.”

Seongje stares after the closed door for a while, then exhales loudly and sinks into the couch. His eyes slide shut and soon he's asleep before he can spiral about something else. 

Chapter Text

“Fuck, that scared the shit out of me.”

Seongje's heart gives a thud, before slowing down to a normal pace. He drags his hand down his face, opening his bleary eyes to make sure he's seeing this right. 

Juntae's warm smile comes into focus. “Oh, you're up.” he comments like he didn't almost give Seongje a fucking heart attack. The other is on the floor, sitting right in front of his face with his knees folded under him. His eyes dart across his face with intent like he's expecting something to fall out of Seongje's face, those brown eyes somehow twinkling in the morning sun. Seongje wasn't aware that was possible in real life.

“The fuck are you doing?” Seongje groans as he registers several different types of aches all over his body. He never knew bones could ache from sleep. He sits up stretching, then hears his back pop unnaturally. This body feels like a fucking 60 year old's, not a 26's.

Juntae watches him quietly and when Seongje looks back at him, the smile on his face is more strained and the previous shine in his eyes is lost. Seongje grinds his teeth, ignoring the way it makes his heart prick. What a fucking way to wake up, he thinks. 

“..fuck.” he curses again.

Juntae's smile turns awkward, face riddled with guilt. “Sorry, it was too uncomfortable sleeping here, right?”

Seongje perks up a little at that, realizing this might be his opportunity. Trying not to lay it thick, he settles on, “Yes. I think my back is broken, Eunjang.” He twists his hip, trying to stretch, then hisses in genuine pain. Seongje's suspicion on the age of this body is growing by the second. 

Juntae comes to sit next to him on the couch, right hand hovering over his shoulder then dropping it looking guiltier, “Sorry, I was too selfish yesterday. I'm supposed to be the adult here..” Yes, that's right, little lamb. It's not too late. Just ask me to sleep wit- “There's a spare mattress in the laundry room, I'll get it ready for you today, okay?” Or that, Seongje thinks disappointed. 

“It might smell a bit funny though, Baku spilled some fish sauce the last time he stayed over, and it's not fully gone yet.” the other tells him a bit sheepish.

Seongje thinks Juntae hates him. Which, rude. It's not Seongje's fault, the universe decided to take his husband away and drop him in his place. 

“But.. it's better than sleeping on this small couch, right?” Juntae adds, sounding hesitant when Seongje keeps staring at him blankly. His eyes do the weird thing again, the brown of it becoming more captivating. Seongje screams internally, stands up, and walks away without replying. He might actually break something, if he doesn't. 

“Seongje?” He hears the other call him, puzzled.

“Shower.” He answers stiffly and slams the door once in the bathroom.

“Ah.. okay. I'll get breakfast ready!” He hears Juntae respond through the door.

_____

After breakfast, Juntae quickly gets into business, giving him a rundown on what their plan would be for the coming days till Seongje gets “fixed”. 

Seongje's appointment is tomorrow and he's to have his blood drawn for a test first thing in the morning followed by an MRI at 11. All of it sounds like wasting a shit load of money and his precious blood, and he conveys as much to Juntae. Then the other proceeds to drop a fucking bomb that Seongje works for a graphic designing company. When Seongje gags at that, he calls Seongje dramatic and specifies that he works for gaming applications.. like that's supposed to make it better? 

A fucking 9 to 5? Honestly, if Seongje gets a chance to meet his older self, he wants to grab him by his hair and demand what the fuck is wrong with him.

Finally, Juntae declares that this whole debacle will be just between them for now. Seongje doesn't protest, because what fun would it be if everybody is in on the game? Besides, aggravating Juntae by being difficult when he's trying so hard sounds so fucking delicious. So, by all means, he wants Juntae trying his damndest to keep this a secret. The other shoots him a suspicious look when he agrees easily, but says nothing further.

Then Juntae inquires if he's got any questions. Seongje's got several questions he's been dying to ask since yesterday. What happened to the union? Did it get taken down? If so, then what about Baekjin? Is Seongje really friends with the Eunjang idiots? Then, is Baekjin friends with the Eunjang idiots? Did they fucking shake hands and then decided to close down the union or what? And why the fuck is another man staying over in their house?

Many, many questions. But.

“Why do you keep staring at me like that?” Is what his stupid mouth lets out instead, because apparently everything else flies out his fucking brain when it comes to Juntae. He's been staring for a while and Seongje couldn't ignore the way the other's eyes land on Seongje on loop, and the way he blinks, once he realizes he's staring and then the way he tries to be discreet with it when he realizes he's staring.

Juntae looks startled like he didn't expect to be called out, flushing a pretty shade of pink. “It's just..” the other swallows, then mumbles, “It’s been a while since I saw you wearing that..” 

Right. Seongje glances down at the orange windbreaker. The thing has definitely seen better days, the orange not even blinding anymore -one of it's biggest charm. When he rummaged through the closet for nearly 15 minutes and dug this out, his only thoughts were - one, thank fuck he finally found something tasteful and two, his older self's clothing choice sucked ass. But now witnessing Juntae being affected and looking all bashful with it? Seongje feels like the other is finally acknowledging him -seeing him.

“And?” Oh, Seongje can't fight the smug smile creeping up his face. Juntae sees it too and rolls his eyes at him.

“And nothing.”

“Just admit it, Eunjang. I look dashing.” He winks at the other, striking a quick pose with a finger under his chin, like he's some idol doing fanservice for the other.

Juntae breaks into a laugh at that, all teeth, nose scrunched and eyes crinkled. And Seongje, fuck, he is so unreasonably pleased, it's honestly embarrassing. But even if it's over something silly, even if it's just for a moment -that laugh, that warmth and that damning eyes filled with mirth, it's all his now. All his. As in Geum Seongje's, the mad dog from Ganghak. Not Geum Seongje's, the fucking loser from this timeline.

“Okay, okay. You look cute.” Juntae finally relents, when Seongje's poses start getting progressively questionable. Seongje didn't think there would be a day in his life where he would be called cute by a guy half his size, but he's immediately addicted to hearing it.

He gets comfortable on the couch letting his head thump against the back of it. He stares at the ceiling and stuffs his hands inside the windbreaker, reaching for his pack unconsciously, before realizing. He clicks his tongue in annoyance, then to distract himself asks Juntae, “The union. What happened to it?”

“It collapsed.” Juntae's response is immediate like he was prepared for Seongje to ask this. “There was a huge fight. And the union lost.”

Seongje hums. He figured as much, though he's not sure how he feels about that. “How long ago was that?”

“8 years.”

Seongje freezes at that and tilts his head, facing Juntae, “You're kidding.” Juntae just shakes his head. 

8 years.. Fuck, that's so close to his timeline. So, if he goes back, then the union would collapse anytime in a few days to weeks. Jeez, it seems that he's really sent forward in time at a very crucial point and not just randomly as he had thought. The question is -what role does Seongje even have in all this, as he had already left the union by this point?

“Is it you Eunjang people?” Seongje guesses.

Juntae nods, “Partly yes. We did fight against the union members and win, but it also fell due to internal conflict.” When Seongje looks at him imploringly, he continues, “The majority of the union members are in it for the money. And I'm sure you know very well how the money flows in the union. We just enlightened them on it.”

Seongje snorts, of course he knows. Baekjin's been siphoning some ridiculous amount of the union's money for whatever reason. Anyone else at Seongje's place would've turned on that bastard years ago, but Seongje was never really after the money. He was chasing after the position it put him in the union. The way it let his fists move without any hesitation and the high of crushing his bloodied opponent and having them tremble at the sight of his equally bloodied smile. His heart races as he thinks about the pure exhilaration of tasting freedom in his own art of violence. There's a certain beauty in that desperation and a romance in that pain.

He looks at Juntae. There's a type of exhilaration that comes with the other too. He is not able to comprehend it fully yet, but it is different. More simple, almost an innocent touch to it. The foreign feeling has his skin crawling, making his fingers itch -not the itch that craves for blood as he's used to, but something else, something that Seongje just fucking doesn't get.

The other shifts under his gaze, turning a little nervous. “What?”

Seongje just stares some more, because he wants to. Ultimately, Juntae looks away. When Seongje burns his eyes forcing the other to back down, he doesn't, but when he wants Juntae's eyes on him like he's starving, the other looks away. 

“Baekjin..” He starts, noticing how Juntae has been fidgeting for a while since they began talking about the union. The selfish fucker has been stuck to his brain like an adamant piece of gum -the more Seongje tries to pull him, the messier it becomes. He feels like learning of their future might help him fully scrap it off. Like a closure. “Where that fucker is now, if union is no more?”

“He's.. in a better place now.” Juntae says carefully. Seongje's gut clenches at the vague answer, a sense of foreboding building up. “Let's just leave it at that.”

“Why exactly?” Seongje asks slowly. 

Juntae bites his lips, fingers tugging at the edge of his sleeves, looking worried. Seongje hates it. 

“Just fucking spit it out already.” He grits out starting to get irritated. Just because he's younger, doesn't mean he's a fucking child for the other to handle him delicately. Besides, he just wants to know, nothing else. He doesn't give a fuck about a bastard who treated him as nothing more than an errand dog. 

“Listen, what if this causes some rift? You know, like a butterfly effect and then when you go back it might ch-” Seongje doesn't give a fuck about all that.

“Is he in jail? Hospitalized?”

“No, no.. Just..” Juntae's mouth clamps shut, like he wills himself to remain silent.

Okay, then. Seongje gets up and starts making his way over to the door. He picks up his shoes, slipping his foot into it.

“Where are you going?” Juntae hurries to his side in alarm. When Seongje doesn't answer and reaches for the door, the other doesn't let him, blocking his path.

“Step aside.”

“No.”

This is Seongje's fault. He had gone too easy on the other, obeying his every word like a goddamn puppy. He grabs the other's arm, squeezing it tight. Juntae winces at the pressure but stands firm.

“You seem to have mistaken me being patient with you as some free rein to fucking lord over me.” Seongje mutters darkly. “8 years must have dulled your memories. Should I jog them for you, hm?” Seongje continues, growing harsher by the second. He leans closer, lips curled in a mean smile, “The way you cried out for Go Hyuntak on that fucking rooftop is still fresh on my mind, though.”

And Seongje is not lying, the memory of the day kept flashing in his mind as the image of Juntae from his time and this time kept clashing. Seeing the resentful look on his face now, Seongje finally sees the Seo Juntae he remembers. The difference is that the resentment in the other's eyes hadn't looked like heartbreak then.

Juntae observes him for a second, then sighs like all the fight has left him. “Fine. I'll tell you, let's sit down first, okay?”

Seongje stares at the living room ceiling, gaze vacant. His thoughts run wild, going haywire only to come back to a single thought -Baekjin is dead.

Baekjin is dead.

And Seongje.. is absolutely conflicted. His mind is pure chaos, filled with questions on how that was possible. Juntae didn't have an answer for him either. The sense of betrayal he felt, when Baekjin made it clear he cared more about the union than he did for Seongje's neck, is still raw and festering. Now with the other gone, he's not sure how to close it. Worse still, there's a dull ache spreading across his chest that's completely unrelated to that gaping wound.

Seongje's eyes drift back to the contact he has open on the screen. The name Narcissistic asshole blinks back at him, exactly the same as he had saved years ago when he first met Baekjin. There is no chat or call history with the contact. Seongje's finger clicks on the call button anyway. He brings it up to his ear listening to it beep sharply once, twice, then -the number you have dialed is- Seongje disconnects the call.

Even in death, the bastard wouldn't let him be in peace. 

___

The next few days are an absolute torture. 

Monday has Seongje quietly going through his appointments, not putting up much of an argument with anything. He doesn't even speak much, not even to tease or rile up the other, which he knows has the older man worried. But the other stays put, probably knowing Seongje wouldn't appreciate him interfering.

They somehow managed to get Seongje off his work for a few weeks claiming he's facing health issues, with a doctor's note. Unfortunately, Juntae has to go to his clinic -apparently, the other is a vet which Seongje thinks suits him. He can easily imagine all the animals that come in just immediately falling in love with him. 

So Thursday has Seongje steaming inside the apartment by himself as the older man left for his clinic in the morning, with the promise to come back early. He feels like a house pet, just obediently waiting for his owner to come back. And Juntae being a vet makes this feel like some inside joke played on him by the universe.

Suddenly, Seongje doesn't find this fun anymore. 

Before leaving Juntae warned him not to go out and around, poking his nose in unnecessary places and dead roads that were already closed, telling it might only stir unwanted trouble for them. Seongje is hardly a listener, and especially when he's this strung up, no reason will sit with him.

Outside, the sun is not too hot as Seongje strolls leisurely. Seongje’s physically dying for a smoke. He pulls out a lollipop the older gave him, claiming it helped his older self, eyes glinting in conviction. He doubts that. Still, he unwraps the plastic and sticks it in his mouth, only to almost spit it out in disgust. 

What the fuck is this? 

The artificial flavour of pineapple assaults his taste buds, his tongue nearly going numb with the sweetness. How this helped his older self is beyond him. Cursing, he decides he cannot lose to his older self and powers through it.

His eyes rake over the surroundings and that's when he spots two familiar heads inside a nearby cafe. Seongje rolls the candy in his mouth once, then walks inside with a grin.

“Oh, newbie. Sleeping beauty.” 

He greets them like they have been friends for years, which, according to Juntae, they are. Then slides in the empty chair between them. They both turn to him looking surprised to find him there.

“How are we doing this fine morning, dear friends.” He shoves his hands inside his windbreaker, and leans back.

“Weren't you sick? Juntae said you caught the flu.” Yeon Sieun is the first to break the silence. 

“Yeah, he's been cancelling our hangouts because of your ass.” Suho chimes in, sipping his drink.

Was he now? Oops.

“I'm fine now.” He replies casually, and changes the topic, “So, what are we doing?”

Suho shoots him a nasty look. “Don't know what “we” you're talking about, buddy. Me and Sieunnie were enjoying our cute lunch date perfectly fine, before you decided to crash in.” 

So these two are a thing. Seongje chuckles at that information, wondering if they were together from the start or after Suho woke up. Sieun goes back to his notes that he has spread out in front of him, openly ignoring them both.

“You're so fucking rude to someone who's seeing sunlight for the first time, after being locked in the house for days.” Seongje sniffs.

“You should be locked longer. You are a hazard to this society.”

He hears Sieun sigh tiredly next to him, then mutters, “I should've just had my lunch at the office..”

“This is your fault, asshole. You're disturbing us.” Suho turns to him and points his drink at him accusingly and some drops fly out his straw as he jostles it, landing on the newbie's papers. The guy shuts his eyes, like he's praying for patience, then clicks his pen once. Suho gulps nervously at that, “Ah, Sieun-ah, sorry.”

The newbie's sharp eyes assess them, then he starts packing up his things clinically. “You both act like children, really.” He chides, and gets up once done. “I'll see you later, Suho-yah. My breaktime is about to end, anyway.” He adds when he sees Suho ready to protest his departure. Sieun waves at Seongje once, then he’s out of there. He sees Suho stare after the newbie forlornly, like a particularly sullen puppy. Seongje is mildly disgusted.

“You look real pathetic, by the way.” He remarks, twirling the lollipop and popping it out in an obnoxious manner.

Suho regards him with a judgmental look. “I know you are not talking with your whining ass, shitface.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” The cloying sweetness from the candy coats his mouth and he reaches for Suho's leftover drink to wash it out. The other calls him a cheapass and to buy his own drink, but doesn't stop him from drinking it.

“Seriously? After bitching my ear off everyday about your stupid job and how it’s getting between you and Juntae?” Suho reminds him.

When Seongje merely shoots him a bored look, Suho scoffs. “Wah, this ungrateful piece of shit.. I should just smack your head so your brain remembers.”

Seongje slurps the last drop of the drink, then throws the lollipop into the empty cup feeling miffed about being defeated. “No clue what you are talking about, man” He pushes his glasses up his nose and stretches his limbs.

Suho furrows his brows at that. “You mean to say you, what, ..forgot it all then?”

“Maybe.”

Suho pokes his tongue in his cheek, an annoyed smile on his face. Seongje bites his lips to keep the giggles from slipping out. These people are so fun to fuck with, he muses. He schools his face and leans forward and motions for the other to get closer as well. The other does so and with a straight face, Seongje whispers, “I am actually not from this timeline.”

Suho blinks a couple of times. “Dude, genuinely, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“It’s exactly as I said.”

Suho studies him a little. “This guy finally lost it. I have been telling you to quit that job for so long, man.” he says, voice grave.

“Don’t believe me? Okay, let’s ask Juntae then.”

Seongje quickly pulls out his phone, dialing Juntae’s number. The other picks up within two rings. Seongje’s lips quirk as Juntae’s voice filters through the phone.

“Hello, Seongje? What's wrong? Everything okay?” 

Seongje hums and informs, “I’m out. Just a cafe nearby.”

Juntae is silent for a moment. Then, “..do you want me to phone you some money?”

Seongje was expecting Juntae to maybe scold him for wandering out again, but not to straight up just treat him like a fucking child. Suho sputters and then he's cackling in his face, clutching his stomach. This son of a bitch. Ears burning, he grunts a “No.”

“Ah, okay.. Then what is it?”

“Just letting you know.” He pauses, a tiny smirk playing on his lips, "I'm with Suho now.”

“What?”

“And he knows.”

“What?”

__

Twenty minutes later, Juntae walks in the coffee shop, looking for all the world so done. Seongje watches on as Juntae spots them both chattering in one corner and then briskly walks towards them.

Once Juntae's within earshot Seongje waves at the smaller, voice bright, “Jagiya, you're here.” The other falters in step, a slight flush blooming on his face.

“Hi.” He gives Suho a small smile, taking the seat next to him.

“Ah, Juntae-yah, Hi!” the other ruffles Juntae's hair and by the way Juntae just smiles wider, unbothered by it, Seongje guesses that must be a pretty common gesture between them. 

Seongje scratches his forehead, tense eyes hyperfixed on the touch. “Where's my hi~” He asks, only to get flicked on his forehead. Fucking..

“What was that for?!”

“How did he find out?” Juntae's stern voice hits him instead.

“I told him.”

“I figured it out.”

Both Seongje and Suho answer him at the same time. Seongje eyes Suho, expression screaming, I see your bullshit. 

“Well,” Suho admits with an embarrassed cough, “I figured it out now.” 

Juntae's eyes shift between them in confusion, then he pinches the bridge of his nose like he can't believe he's dealing with this. 

Chapter Text

The next morning passes by the same as the past few days. Only this time, there's an additional request -which Seongje feels like the other knows would go unlistened- for him to not involve Suho further now that he knows about him. Something about not trusting the two together. 

So Seongje does what he does best. He unlocks his phone, scrolling through his chats until he opens the one he had in mind.

You

hey, you free?

not suho

busy. why

You

doing what

not suho

work dude.. wat do u want

You

at gym? juntae told me you're a trainer.

ill be there in 15. let's spar.

not suho

what part of im working ur brain didnt get

You

take your lunch break. you have it right?

not suho

its 11 in the fuckinv morning

You

brunch then..

There's no response from the other for a few minutes. Seongje stares as the three dots appear and disappear.

not suho

ok. 

call me hyung.

Seongje stares at the message caught off guard.

You

?

not suho

im older than you now. so ask me nicely. 

suho hyung, pls play with ur cute dongsaeng seongje~

come on. say it.

Seongje can definitely acknowledge a fellow opportunistic bastard. He snorts, lips curling in faint amusement. 

You

funny, im scrolling thr this chat right now.

seeing very interesting things.

things i wonder if newbie knows.

Seongje grins at the three dots appearing and disappearing again.

not suho

ill see u in 15

The gym Suho works at is not luxurious and looks pretty basic. The place is not crowded either, seeing as it's midday. Probably just some students or players training. Suho sees him walk in and quickly takes him over to some locker area. The other pulls out some braces, mouth guards and gloves, then hurls them right at his face. Seongje catches them on instinct, cursing under his breath. Okay, maybe he shouldn't have threatened him using newbie. 

Once they are both geared up, Suho leads him towards the boxing ring. Seongje notes how a couple of those guys training around nod at him in greeting as he passes them by. Seems he's a frequent visitor here. 

They stretch and warm up for a few minutes in companionable silence. And the moment they enter the ring, Seongje lunges at the other. He’s not sure how far his older self and sleeping beauty take their sparring.. but all his hits and punches are aiming for the kill now. First couple of hits in, Suho looks a bit surprised at his intensity, then he starts matching Seongje's pace with ease. The first hit landing on his jaw sets his nerves on fire. A mad grin splits across his face as the throbbing on his face sends a rush through his system. 

Fucking finally.

Suho's eyes glint with a knowing look, then his fist is reaching back for Seongje’s face again. Seongje quickly twists away, simultaneously making a grab at Suho’s arm, which the other breaks free from effortlessly. A hard kick lands on his right side, pain racking through his ribs, but he ignores that and gets a hold of the fighter’s leg with his left hand. Shifting his body back, he slams his elbow into Suho's abdomen then. Hard. The guy curses at the contact, stepping back and catching his breath, when Seongje releases him.

Suho regards him with an intent stare. Then he huffs, cracking his knuckles.

“Fine. Let's do this, asshole.”

Thirty minutes of some serious back and forth has both of them sprawled on the floor, chest heaving and thoroughly spent. Seongje's heart is thudding against his cage, and the adrenaline still thrumming in his veins keeps his mind floating. His face hurts, his ribs ache, his limbs are dead, and there's going to be several ugly bruises on his body. A giddy laugh slips out his mouth. He finally feels right in his skin, a bit of familiarity, after so many days of feeling alienated.

Suho startles at his loud laugh. “Fuck.. hah.. warn a guy.. Jesus.” 

When Seongje's laugh only grows, almost bordering on psychotic, Suho swats at him asking him to shut the fuck up, as he is starting to scare the poor guys around them. Right. Seongje tilts his head to glance at those peeking at them with expressions ranging from mild fascination to utterly disturbed. 

“So, what's got you all twisted and come running to me?” Suho asks him once his giggles have died down.

Seongje stares at the white light hanging from the ceiling till colors start dancing behind his eyes. He turns and finds the other with his eyes closed, looking perfectly serene like he doesn't have an unreliable nutcase right next to him. He definitely recalls learning that the guy actually ended up in a coma after being completely beaten up in a boxing ring.

So many interesting people around him. Seongje hasn't had that in a long while. Only losers who quiver at the sight of his shadow, stay away at the whisper of his name and crumble under the force of his punches.

“You okay, man?” Suho questions him, when Seongje gets lost in his thoughts for a while. The other has propped himself up on his elbows now, looking at him with his eyebrows raised. 

His older self is doing quite fucking well for himself, it seems. Having people ask if he's doing well more times in a week than he had heard in his entire 17 fucking years of life.

“Just peachy.” Seongje offers him a peace sign.

Suho hums like he sees through his lie, but doesn’t call him out on it. But Seongje is just fucking fine, right? What lie is there to see through?

“Huh uh. Why did you tell me about your secret yesterday?” Suho asks him instead, then continues with a teasing smile, “I mean, if it was your present self I would understand.. like you'd always bring your crying ass with your problems to me.” 

Thinking back to yesterday, Seongje is pretty surprised with how well the former MMA took the news, even going as far as looking entertained by their predicament. If Seongje is being honest, letting the other know wasn't intentional on his part. His gut tells him that he might be a lot closer to Suho than he might be to those Eunjang musketeers. After all, there is no history or bad blood between them. Well, till his current past at least. And despite their limited interaction so far, he likes this Ahn Suho. 

“Eh, I like you.” Seongje shrugs, not hesitating in conveying it either.

Suho sits up at that, crossing his legs and leaning over to look at him. He inspects his face for a while, then says, voice solemn. “I like Sieunnie.”

Seongje laughs at the sudden but sincere confession. “Oh?” His smile turns sly as he sits up to mirror the other as well. “Even better then.”

Suho's eyes widen at his words and he reaches out to hold his shoulders in an iron grip. “Even better? What's better?” He shakes Seongje a bit, an aggravated look on his face -which scratches Seongje's brain just right- and asks again when his only answer is an infuriating smile. “What do you mean by that, asshole?”

The sleeping beauty's little meltdown is interrupted by Seongje's phone ringing. “Ah, that must be my lovely husband.” He gets up, brushing off Suho's hand. 

“You better have been joking, you fucker!” The other calls out to him as he walks out the ring towards the bench where he had dropped his phone earlier. He picks it up, his smile turning more genuine on its own.

“Hey, jagiya. Miss me already?”

“Where are you?” Juntae asks him.

Seongje plops down on the bench, twisting his arms and ankles, feeling the soreness set in rapidly.

“At the gym. With Suho. Why?” He watches as Suho gestures at him that vaguely resembles showering. He just waves a hand back at him.

“Your lab results are in. Just got a call from the hospital. Stay there, I'll come pick you up in a few minutes.” Juntae tells him and immediately hangs up, like he can see Seongje putting up a fuss from a mile away. He chuckles at the following beep, and stands up, heading towards the showers as well.

___

Another waste of time. Seongje watches as Juntae walks in silence, a few feet ahead of him, reports in hand, that state absolutely nothing.

He expects them to head to the parking lot to get back home, but Juntae sits down on the bench outside looking weary. Seongje drops next to him wordlessly, pulling out one of those ridiculous lollipops and starts sucking on them.

Mango flavour. Ugh.

He grimaces but thinks it's marginally better than that pineapple flavour. Or his brain is beginning to gaslight him about it.

“Did you really expect something from these tests?” He asks the other, when Juntae's just sitting there, eyes vacant.

“Is it so bad if I did?” Juntae asks him back with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

Maybe not. Of course not. If something showed up, then it means there would be a way to set everything back to the way it was. The way it's meant to be. He doesn't reply, when the answer is obvious. 

His eyes fall on an old couple who are walking around the hospital area. The old man is clutching onto the walking aid, hands trembling, as the old woman supports his back with a steadying hand. They seem lost to the world, the woman whispering to the man with a smile, as he listens with a matching smile of his own, even as tremors run through his body with the strain.

What the fuck are they trying so hard in that age for? It's pathetic. It's romantic. He can't look away from them.

“Do you hate me that much, Eunjang?” That you are trying so hard and desperately hoping to send me back. He finally asks after a while.

“Will you believe me if I say no?” Another question.

“Are you going to keep at it?”

“You aren't answering my questions either.” Juntae quips, a challenging look in his eyes.

“So what? I should believe that you love me? Me, Eunjang?” Seongje scoffs.

“You know,” Juntae starts, gaze turning contemplative as he studies him carefully. “You never asked me again. About why I married you.”

Seongje hasn't. He wants to say he lost interest in it. He didn't care either way, it didn't matter to him. All that bullshit. But. It's all he can think about. Everytime he looks at Juntae, his brain conjures all sorts of sappy crap, trying to figure out exactly how the other ended up marrying him. And somewhere between Juntae's despondent eyes and calculated detachment, Seongje has lost the courage to ask again, as loath as he is to admit that.

“You didn't marry me.” Seongje deflects, contradicting his earlier self. “You married him.” 

Juntae narrows his eyes at him. “You do realise you are him, right?”

“Were.” Seongje corrects him, voice petulant. So he's not letting go of how the other distinguishes him and his older self. Sue him. He's a petty motherfucker. A trait he holds with pride.

Juntae lifts his hand to his mouth at his childish tone, fingers curled in an attempt to hide his smile. Seongje catches the end of it anyway. And just like that, his heart aches. He looks away exhaling, trying not to let those fond eyes get too deep in his head.

Silence falls over them again. This time less heavy. Seongje’s eyes land back on the old couple again, following them till they disappear around the corner. He startles a bit when he feels cold fingers on his jaw. Juntae apologizes but doesn’t take his hand away, caressing the bruise there with featherlight touch.

“It hurts, right?” Juntae murmurs, voice barely above a whisper.

The older man's face is gentle as he lifts his eyes meeting Seongje’s. He looks into those soft brown eyes, the surrounding lights casting a pretty glow on them. Juntae's nose and cheeks are rosy from the night cold, and his lips shine red from his earlier anxious biting. A slight breeze tousles his bangs and Seongje traces every sway of those locks, almost in a trance.

There's that itch again, starting at the tip of his fingers.

“Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.” He dismisses the concern on Juntae’s face. 

“I know.” Juntae says quietly.

Seongje gets up, skin burning at the place where the other just touched him. He drops the half melted lollipop into the trash, not meeting the other’s gaze. Another fail.

“Let’s go, Eunjang. My ass is fucking frozen already.”

___

Seongje feels like some sort of vigilante, from one of those fuckass comics he read from Juntae's collection, when he was bored out of his mind staying trapped inside the apartment. He closes the door behind him carefully and hurries out. He had already decided to do some sneaking out today, but Juntae delayed it by making sure to patch up every single bruise on his body with ointment and bandaids. He traces a finger over the bandaid on his face, momentarily recalling Juntae’s gentle hands and admonishing voice, before adjusting the hood over his head again, trying to be as discreet as one can be wandering alone in the dead of the night. All that matters is, his face must stay hidden.

He follows the map route he has open on his phone, struggling a bit initially, but soon navigating faster as he starts recognizing the surroundings. After about 40 minutes on foot, he comes to a stop before his destination.

The house, unsurprisingly, looks well abandoned. There are creepers growing along the wall, and the cracks accompanying it only serve to create an eerie image. Jeez, looks fucking haunted. He quickly scans the area, making sure no one's around before stepping closer.

Seongje grabs onto the metal door, pushing his foot against it to hoist himself up over it. Swinging his legs, he jumps down and lands on the inside with a small grunt. He stalks closer to the house, walking around with confident steps till he reaches the window on the back. The glass is completely covered in dust, making it opaque. He leans in swiping a hand across and peers in. Pitch black. 

“Looking for something?”

Seongje's head snaps back towards the voice, chastising himself for being so careless, he didn't even notice a guy climbing up the wall behind him. The fucker just stands there on the wall, head titled at him, like he's some higher power watching over his underlings. The guy seems tall, maybe as tall as him and is dressed in a brown jacket, hood pulled over his face -the street light behind him casting a perfect shadow and hiding it from Seongje. 

“And who the fuck are you?” Seongje shoves his hands into his hoodie, turning to fully face the other, posture overtly relaxed, but his shoulders tense, ready for a fight.

No response. Just silence that feels like Seongje is being scrutinized down to his being. The air grows tense as they both study each other without any words. Then the guy is hopping down from the wall onto the road and rushing away, footsteps echoing in the quiet night.

Seongje starts after him, swiftly climbing back over the wall and dropping into a crouch on the road. Seongje follows the direction of the receding sound of footsteps, picking up his pace as it grows quieter and quieter. He comes to a halt at a crossroad, considering which way to continue, when he catches sight of the guy at the end of the street to his left. Seongje's brows furrow as he notices the other lifting his hand and shooting him a playful salute.

This bastard.. Is he toying with Seongje?

A quiet laugh escapes him, feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline flow through his body, as he runs towards the other, who immediately takes off at the sight of Seongje giving chase.

His limbs and body are still sore from his little session with Suho earlier. Fuck, he really went hard at the gym. Seongje's not sure what this fucker is playing at but when he catches him.. he's breaking every single bone of his body.

As he turns around a corner, he spots the guy waiting for him as expected. Instead of following the bastard, he cuts through a street going around and traps him from the opposite side. He grins as he hears those footsteps coming from his right as he predicted. He pushes himself to full speed and steps out directly in front of the guy, facing him head on. The other comes to a startled halt, and Seongje wastes no time in grabbing the front of his shirt, before the guy can escape.

“Gotcha.”

Seongje winds his hand back, ready to smash his face in, when a sharp pain shoots behind his eyes. The suddenness of it slows his fist down, which lets the other to easily block him with his hand. He seizes both of Seongje's arms with each of his own, fingers clenching around his hoodie. The guy tilts his head back up and Seongje catches a flash of teeth spread into a sharp smile. Then he is ramming his head straight into Seongje's face, the sound of his glasses cracking filling his ears.

Seongje's vision explodes, when the pain morphs into a full blown pounding inside his skull. His glasses fall to the ground uselessly, as Seongje releases his hold on the other's shirt and drops onto his knees clutching his head. There's no way a headbutt feels this painful. Seongje has taken and given way too many before -harder ones at that- to know this for sure.

He feels the fucker squat next to him, chin supported by his palm, elbow on his knee as he observes Seongje groaning in agony and tuts in pity at his misery. Sadistic bastard. Seongje feels something being shoved into his hoodie and he tries getting a hold of the other again in vain. The guy steps back on his feet then, hands in his pocket, whispering a farewell.

“See you around, Wolf.” 

Seongje crumples to the ground then and the last thing he sees is the blurry image of the other walking away from him, before his vision goes black.

___

The sound of pencil scratching against paper fills the room. 

Seongje flicks his eyes towards the noise, puffing out the smoke he just took a drag of. It surrounds him like a thick fog and floats around him for a while, instead of dispersing. Strange. He focuses on the figure sitting by the table and writing away, a few notebooks arranged and papers spread out neatly on top of it. It feels as though Seongje is not right there, seated a few feet away from the boy, but that he's just some onlooker, merely observing the other.

“Baekjin.” Seongje's voice drifts across the room.

The boy doesn't stop his movements, sharp eyes moving along with the words being written down on the paper. More smoke leaves Seongje's nose and mouth, as he quietly waits for some response.

“Why?” He speaks again, when his call goes unanswered. 

The pencil stops, the gray tip of it pressed on the paper in place. Then it continues gliding across the paper, like it never stopped. Baekjin doesn't even spare him a glance. Just when Seongje thinks he's going to be ignored again, Baekjin speaks up.

“Why what?” The other asks him, voice monotone.

Seongje considers. 

Why.. Why did the union matter more than me to you? Why did you never ask if I was okay even once? Why did I never matter enough for you to see me as more than a lapdog doing some dirty work for you? Why was I only ever someone for you to easily discard, not someone to trust by your side? Just, why won't you at least fucking look at me?

Seongje remains silent.

Baekjin's finger skims across the paper for a second, like he's processing a particularly complex problem, then he continues writing with a faint hum, unbothered by Seongje's silence. Minutes pass by in loaded silence, Seongje simply staring at the other.

“Seongje-yah.” Seongje's body snaps to attention at the call. “Are you asking because you don't know? Or you don't want to admit it?” There's a pause, then the other continues, a strange lilt to his voice. “It's you.” Seongje lets out a confused noise, despite a growing sense of anxiety, his pulse spiking. The smoke grows thicker, and his eyes land on the burnt out cigarette lying forgotten on the floor, feeling lost. Did he drop it?

“It's you.” Baekjin repeats again, voice calm, like he's reciting a fact. “You're just too much, Seongje-yah. Too impulsive. Too wild. Too inconsistent to be trusted closer. You just destroy everything that comes in your way, leaving behind only ruins. How can anyone look at you and think about confiding in you? Your principles, your beliefs and your instincts.. they are all erratic.” The bitter smell of tobacco becomes too strong and Seongje starts to feel suffocated by the smoke, the words and the other's unnerving tone. “From the start, you have always been a variable.” 

“From the start,” Baekjin finally looks up straight at him then, those black pools boring into him, void of any emotions. “You were never meant to be anyone's constant.”

The entire room becomes too trapping and Seongje is unable to breathe anymore, his lungs burning with the intensity of the smoke. His eyes water and his whole body breaks out into sweat, having him shiver abruptly. Through the smoke, Baekjin's dark eyes remain unnaturally clear, unsettling him further. He waves his hand, trying to clear out the smoke, but it only gets worse making him heave through his mouth. 

So this is how he's going to die. Just slowly suffocating to his death, staring right into the face of someone, who essentially, never, not once cared about him. Seongje coughs, clawing at his throat, his heart almost bursting out of his chest with how fast it's beating.

“Seongje?”

A voice calls him, but Seongje doesn't recognize it.

“Seongje!”

The voice grows urgent. Seongje tries opening his eyes. -when did he close them? 

“-je. Seongje, wake up, please. Seongje-yah. Seongje. Seongje!” Seongje blinks his eyes open with a quiet gasp, hearing Juntae frantically calling him. He rubs his chest, panting to catch his breath, the vivid sense of suffocation yet to leave his system. Then he inhales deep, relieved at the clean air filling his lungs. He's soaked in sweat, the morning breeze sending a chill across his body. He closes his eyes and tries to shake off the effects of the dream. 

Just a dream, he thinks.

“Are you okay?” Juntae's soft voice reaches him and Seongje latches on to that to calm his pounding heart. He swallows once and opens his eyes to meet the other's worried ones. Juntae's eyes are red rimmed, like he's been crying for a while and he looks about to again, seeing Seongje's state. He gulps some more air, getting his airways to work properly.

“I'm fine, Eunjang. Relax.” He gives Juntae a weak smirk, glancing around, taking in the hospital room. Wait, why the fuck is he in the hospital? Then Seongje remembers the night, Baekjin's house and the guy. The guy! That fucking son of a bitch. He scowls, recalling the piercing pain in his head.

“Seongje? Does it hurt? Let me get the doctor. Please hold on a bit, okay?” Juntae pulls back the screen and walks out hastily before he can reply.

See you around, Wolf.

That voice.. it couldn't be. Fuck.