Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

20 years, 1 month, 11 days ago

For many in Incheon, South Korea, it was just another Thursday.

For Jisung, it was the day he was born.

It was also the day his curse began.

By all accounts, it was a normal birth. A healthy, screaming baby boy. Brought over to the sanitized table to be weighed and measured. The joy of a new life coming into the world.

Until the noise stopped.

An impossibly tiny hand covered two impossibly tiny eyes. His breath quickened and became shallow. When that happened, so did his mother’s. A background set of beeps tracking her pulse fell flat. Jisung, minutes old, swaddled in a sky blue blanket, was abandoned as the nurses attended to the woman on the hospital bed.

One solitary note rang out as a doctor ran in with a defibrillator. This pitch will be his anchor to impress his friends in the future with his uncanny musical talents, though he won’t know why. Time passes, and the energy of the room shifts from frantic to somber. The pitch stops ringing out, and is replaced by the sobs of Jisung’s father. He scoops the baby in his arms, against the nurses’ wishes, and rests them both against his wife’s chest. The sky blue blanket, the blue scrubs, and his dark blue shirt meld together to mourn the loss of the woman he leaned on for so long.

That day, a husband lost his wife.
A child lost his mother.
And, for now, it’s just a coincidence.
Jisung doesn’t blame himself.
Yet.

17 years, 9 months, 11 days ago

Jisung fiddled with his sky blue blanket. He looked around the studio apartment in awe from his high chair, where his dad often kept him so he didn’t get into trouble while he worked. Fortunately, little Jisung was able to amuse himself quite well. He chomped into his blanket and pulled it away, admiring the teeth marks and giggling to himself. Skillfully shifting the blanket to a new spot with his tiny hands, he made a tiny roar, soft enough to not disrupt his dad, and dug his teeth into the fabric again. His giggles grew louder, even more delighted than the time before.

Jisung’s dad turned around from his desk towards his son, smiling and keeping his tears back as he always did. “You getting hungry, Jisungie?”

“Yeah!”

His dad stood up and walked into their modest kitchen, watching his son try to clap with the blanket between his hands. He never learned how to cook before Jisung was born, and didn’t have time as a single father, so anything instant and quick had to do. It didn’t stop Jisung from thinking his dad made magical and delicious food. That half truth will live on until Jisung decides to call it out.

Jisung’s cheerful demeanor quieted down as the cell phone rang. His teeth marks were no longer as amusing to him. The world became bright and his heart became heavy. Jisung buried his face into his blanket as his dad fell to his knees. The microwave beeped periodically, letting them both know that the food was ready, but it didn’t matter.

It was the police.
His only sibling, his sister, got into a car accident when a drunk driver blew through a stoplight.
She died on impact.
Jisung reacted to his dad’s grief, as far as his dad remembered.
But that wasn’t the case.
His curse was still hidden for now.

15 years, 1 month, 20 days ago

Jisung was going to be five next week, and was excited his dad let him start kindergarten instead of preschool. He was extra excited since he was in the United States.

Jisung’s dad wanted to move after both his parents passed the previous year. With nothing tying him to the country except his son, the bad memories of South Korea were too much. He heard from a work colleague that there was a strong Korean community in Atlanta, Georgia. It was safer than New York and cheaper than Los Angeles. He transferred from his Seoul office to the Atlanta location in the summer, after working all spring to get their visas approved. They spent the month of August exploring the shops and restaurants, surrounded by a mix of English and Korean. Similar enough to home to not be homesick, but different enough to not be stuck in the constant cycles of mourning. Jisung was too young to understand why he had no aunts, uncles or grandparents left, so his youthful spirit filled in the gaps.

Jisung was full of joy and confident in himself considering how much loss he endured at such a young age. At this point, no one knew that he felt the deaths of his family members. He hadn’t made the connection within himself yet, even though it did feel suspicious sometimes when he was near other grown-ups. The sensation wasn’t as overwhelming as it was with his family, but something was there, nagging at him, telling him someone was about to be sad. In Jisung’s young mind, the best way to not be sad was to be happy, and that’s what he chose to do.

Today, he was happy, but he was also nervous.

He practiced many simple English phrases over the past month, just in case his classmates only spoke English. He even tried some of them out with the Koreatown shopkeepers, who would smile and try their best not to ruffle his unkempt brown hair in affection. His mind glommed onto the information as he learned it, and he hoped it all stuck as he separated from his dad and entered the towering brick building in front of him.

Taking a deep breath, he found his way around the corner to a large poster board that said “Miss Cho’s class: Welcome to your first day!” on it outside of his classroom. The phrase was written twice, in red and blue, Hangul and English, respectively. Jisung gasped as he saw labels for almost everything in the room, handwritten in the same red and blue fonts as outside. He wanted to run over to every sign and memorize it. He tried to weave between the desks to read what the English word was for ‘window’ without the glare of the fluorescent lights, but he bumped into a kid around his size, his matching hair and eyes a shade darker than Jisung’s brown.

“I’m sorry I ran into you!” Jisung quickly rattled off in Korean.

“It’s okay.” The boy responded back in English.

“Oh!” Jisung focused so hard on what he wanted to say next that his face scrunched into a tiny ball, while at the same time his cheeks puffed out. “Hello! My name is Jisung! What is your name?”

“My name is Seungmin.” He gave a slight head bow to Jisung. “How old are you?”

Jisung was delighted he knew the answer to this question. All his practice was paying off. “I am five next week on 14 September…and you?”

“I will be five on September 22.” Seungmin responded slowly, counting on his fingers to figure out how many days apart those numbers were.

“I’m gonna be five too!” A very different English accent screamed from across the room. Jisung and Seungmin both looked at the blonde near the door. His hair was neatly trimmed and tucked behind his ears, but his bangs were long, hanging just above his eyes. “On September 15!” He ran between the desks to greet them, a broad grin on his face. Jisung was happy he didn’t feel the sadness coming from either of them. “My name is Felix! What are yours?”

“My name is Jisung!” Jisung repeated gleefully.

“My name is Seungmin.” Seungmin repeated to the new boy as well.

Felix nodded, failing to shake the bangs out of his eyes. “Do you guys wanna be friends?”

Jisung thought hard, but he couldn’t make out what Felix said. “I don’t know English good. I am new to America.”

”All I understood was the word ‘friend.’” Seungmin whispered to Jisung. ”I think he wants to be our friend.”

“Oh no!” Felix started panicking as the words came out. ”I don’t know Korean that good. I’m from Australia. We mostly speak English there.”

“That’s okay.” Seungmin smiled as he looked back and forth between Jisung and Felix. He pointed between the three of them and looked directly at Felix. ”Friend.” He did the same gesture and looked at Jisung. “Friend. Let’s be friends. ”Let’s be friends.”

“Friends!” Felix shouted in English.

”Friends!” Jisung shouted back in Korean.

“Okay everyone, time to have a seat!”

And thus, their friendship began with no looming dread in Jisung’s heart.

9 years, 1 month ago

The beginning of middle school is inherently terrifying. Fortunately, Jisung had his two best friends, Felix and Seungmin, by his side the whole time. The beginning of the school year meant celebrating their birthdays together in a big joint party. It was the weekend after Seungmin’s birthday, and, per tradition, they were gathered at his house with all the parents. Jisung’s dad usually would be there, but he had to work this particular day. The white frosted sheet cake, half vanilla and half chocolate, had the letters “Happy Birthday September Trio!” written in blue frosting, the font swirling and sprawling across the surface.

Another tradition was to place the candles on the dots of “I” and crosses of “T,” and then one extra candle around the word “happy” to make it an even six. Jisung and Felix would stand to the right of the cake, and Seungmin straight on. He would blow towards the “Happy” and “September” candles; Jisung, in the upper right corner, would blow towards the two “Birthday” candles; Felix, at the lower right, would blow the two “Trio” candles. Every year, Seungmin would always complain about being spit on, despite having the option to move. Yet, every year, he would endure the cross winds of Felix and Jisung’s strong exhales to extinguish the candles.

The room darkened as Seungmin and Felix’s parents began to sing. Each child was positioned at their unofficial spots. Jisung looked at his friends, grinning in anticipation of getting this over with and eating the cake. Their presents were in the living room of Seungmin’s modest house. Those would come later after the joy and laughter of eating and talking about what another school year would bring.

“Alright boys,” Seungmin’s mom called out. “Make a wish!”

Jisung closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. Every year his wish was the same, and every year he refused to confess to it. He just wanted his dad to be happy. Jisung’s birthday was a tough day for his dad, as it was the same day he lost his wife. It never bothered Jisung, as every year, his dad would share a different story about her. This year, he finally told Jisung about their first date and how they met. With thoughts of his parents running through his head, Jisung blew out the candles with Felix and Seungmin. Everyone clapped and cheered, and Felix’s mom turned the kitchen lights back on.

And Jisung was overwhelmed by the light.

“Jisung, do you want chocolate or vanilla first?” Seungmin’s mom asked as she started cutting up a chocolate piece for Felix, candles long removed from their places. “Jisung?”

Seungmin looked up from the vanilla piece of cake on his plate. “You okay, Sungie?”

“Too bright.” The throbbing in his chest was overwhelming as he covered his eyes with the back of his hand.

“It’s okay, Jisung.” Felix put an arm around Jisung’s shoulders, concerned for his friend, as his breath grew shallow and frantic. Jisung often started talking in Korean when he panicked. “What’s wrong?”

”Bright means bad.”

Seungmin’s mom made her way around the table as the other adults tried not to panic. She took the seat Felix had been using to hold Jisung’s left hand. ”Jisung, take some deep breaths for me, okay?”

“Call my dad.” When no one responded immediately, he lost his sense of self completely, pleading from somewhere outside his mind and body. “CALL MY DAD!”

Jisung got the same sinking feeling he remembered getting about his aunt and grandparents long ago when he still lived in South Korea. He had only put everything together last year, when he woke up in a cold sweat from a dream, seeing an old woman pass away in a hospital bed that looked similar to his music teacher at school. The feelings of dread weren’t as intense when it wasn’t his family. When she didn’t show up the next day due to a “family emergency,” his suspicion was confirmed. He would have varying feelings of dread and sensitivity to light if those close to him were about to lose a cherished loved one. It was a burden that he kept to himself, and also why he didn’t try to get close to anyone anymore.

If he was truly correct about his curse, he would have no family by the time he went to sleep tonight. The last bit of joy he tried to keep in his life wouldn’t be able to hold.

“Jisung, honey, I’m so sorry…” He heard from somewhere far away.

Jisung had no one except Felix and Seungmin now.

He would never be the same again.

2 years, 4 months, 22 days ago

“Congratulations, class of 2018!”

Various seniors around Jisung threw their hats in the air to celebrate the end of their educational journey. Many of them, including himself and his friends, would be going to college in the fall. Felix was behind him, probably talking to the seniors snaking through the seats to find him specifically. His looks and personality made him blow up in popularity early in their high school years, but Felix never forgot Jisung. He would yell at people to go away if he was in the middle of talking to Jisung sometimes, despite Jisung’s well known loner reputation. None of them mattered, because Jisungie would always come first for Lixie.

Forward and to his left through the mass of people, Seungmin was shaking hands with the principal. As the class valedictorian, his speech was everything Jisung expected it to be: witty, thoughtful, and full of hope for the future. As much as Jisung wanted his future to be far away from here, his EAD and labor laws around minors prevented him from saving up as much money as he wanted. It didn’t help that his dad picked one of the most regressive states to live in when it came to fair pay. He kept his grades up well enough to get scholarship money to several schools, and picked (read: received the most money from) Georgia State. It also helped that they had a Korean exchange program he could take advantage of if he kept his grades up. Seungmin’s parents, whom he moved in with shortly after his father passed, offered to let him stay during the summer to save more money before he moved to campus. He planned to work his ass off in the hopes of making enough money for a guaranteed second year in case he botched his studies completely. He never had to pay rent, but he did start buying his own food as soon as he could possibly get a job to lessen the financial burden on them for essentially adopting another son.

Jisung had done his best to block out everyone except Seungmin and Felix since his dad died. Some people sure did try to break through the emotional steel vault he locked himself in. No figurative dynamite nor more subtle disarming would work. So he kept his friends close, and himself closer. He took in his surroundings, and it wasn’t lost on him how lonely that conscious decision made him now, as groups of two or three teenagers congregated around various rows of chairs, talking excitedly about their futures. Futures full of family and friends and love.

A future Jisung will probably never have.

“Jisung!” Seungmin called out as he walked up the aisle to approach him. “Congratulations!”

“Thanks.” Jisung gave him a genuine smile. He couldn’t help but see Seungmin as a younger brother, even if it was only by a mere eight days. “Great speech, by the way.”

Seungmin gently tugged the sleeve of his cloak so they could make their way towards his parents. “Thank you! Did it come off as too nerdy?”

Jisung shook his head, fighting the discomfort of clothes sticking to his skin because of the heat and humidity. “No, it was perfect.”

“Felix!” Seungmin shouted. “Get over here!”

Felix turned towards the sound of his name. His glorious blonde hair, free from the graduation cap, made him look like a model. “One second!” He shouted back.

Felix waved goodbye to his group of friends and joined the pair as they went towards the stands behind the rows and rows of chairs. Felix and Seungmin’s parents were sitting side-by-side, engrossed in conversation. Felix’s mom waved excitedly as the three of them approached, working her way down the bleachers to approach the trio.

“Congratulations!” She hugged Seungmin first, working her way down the line. “I am so proud of you boys! You’re all grown-up now! You’ve turned out so well!”

“Thanks.” Jisung mumbled, keeping himself from making a comment on how that only applied to two of them.

“Congratulations.” Seungmin’s dad added, giving each of them a handshake as an unofficial greeting line of parents formed. “You’ve turned into fine young men.”

“Thanks, dad.” Seungmin looked towards his mom, who was the last to arrive in their group. “Do you have the…things?”

“Yes, I do.” She reached into her purse and pulled out two envelopes, handing one to Jisung and the other to Felix. “Congratulations, you two. Please take this as a gift from us.”

Jisung bowed his head slightly in her direction as he studied his name handwritten on the front. He guessed the gift was probably money, and whatever amount would be far too generous of them after all they had done for him through middle and high school after his dad passed away. On the other hand, he certainly wasn’t going to turn away extra money to help him save for school. Turning the envelope around, a ‘congratulations’ sticker was on the back holding the envelope closed, colorful balloons above the bold black word. He opened it as best he could without ripping the sticker and saw a check face down. When he removed it, he turned it over to see $5,000.

“That’s too much.” He spat out instantly. “I can’t accept that.”

“That’s…” Even Felix was speechless, and he had a comeback for everything in English and Korean. “Too generous.”

“It’s really not.” Seungmin’s dad smiled proudly at them. “We talked about it, and you boys are as good as family. You worked hard and earned it.”

Jisung didn’t like hugs nowadays, but he couldn’t help it as he lunged towards his second dad and wrapped his arms around him. He was relieved when the deep sense of dread from his curse stayed dormant. “Thank you. So much.”

“Of course, Jisung.” He felt a few pats on his back. “You deserve the world.”

He knew he was loved. He just wasn’t sure he deserved anything or anyone if his curse still existed. Once Seungmin and Felix and their parents died, he would truly have no one left.

1 year, 11 months, 15 days ago

Jisung had been at Georgia State for a while now. Had seen and talked to all different kinds of people. He mostly took gen ed classes. Nothing fancy. Just your basic first year college fare. It was odd being away from home. Or Seungmin’s home. But basically his own after so many years.

He wished his dad was still here. Not only because he always wished it. He just…well, he could use his dad’s advice. How to deal with new people and situations. But particularly in how to cope with his struggles about his sexuality. Having shut everyone out in high school, he wanted to give humanity another shot. It’s been a long time. He had an extra 5G’s in his pocket. He’s pretty sure he’s still a decent person. That’s what Felix and Seungmin tell him all the time. So maybe someone else will think so too.

It’s just, Jisung’s not really into women.

So here he is at the campus coffee shop sitting across from a cute guy. Traditionally gorgeous. Tall. Messy blonde hair. Piercing blue eyes. In shape. Always smiling. Model shit. At least by American standards.

Jisung met Jason in his math class. Early on, Jason would ask questions about the assignments, and then they got to talking. They were some of the longest conversations Jisung had in years outside of his friends. The lack of proper social practice in high school with anyone, not just attractive people who were attracted to him, left him speechless and stuttering when Jason officially asked him out. Not to study, Jisung clarified, just coffee? His genuine smile left no doubt what his intentions were. And so, in the collegiate spirit of trying new things, he agreed.

“So what do you like to do, outside of being good at math?” Jason put down his cup of caramel macchiato with several modifications Jisung didn’t understand when they were at the register together.

Jisung took a nervous sip of his iced coffee and tried to come up with an answer that wasn’t depressing. “Umm, I like music. Listening and playing. Talking to my friends.” Avoiding the darkness. Not cursing others so their friends and family die. “Stuff like that.”

“Do your friends go to college too?” Jisung nodded as he innocently looked up from where the straw was between his lips. Jason smirked, but didn’t mention why. “What are they studying?”

“Felix is going into social work, and Seungmin got a full ride for chemistry. Or biology?” Jisung noticed his shoulders were shrugged forward and rolled them back. He focused on the tangible sensation of the cold liquid traveling down his esophagus to his stomach. “Some smart science degree related to medicine and diseases.”

The blonde raised his eyebrows. “You have smart friends, huh?”

“Yeah.” Being with them sounded like a better idea than being here. He missed them. “I told him to put his smarts to good use. We’ll need help with that soon.”

“Oh?”

Right. The darkness was a Jisung problem. He struggled to come up with a quick redirection. “No use being the valedictorian if you’re only going to study music, right?”

Jason’s laugh itched at Jisung’s ears. That’s probably not good, but who knows, honestly. “A music degree isn’t the worst.”

“No, it’s not.” Jisung conceded. “Just not practical.”

The silence of fundamental disagreement hung around a few beats too long. “What else do you do for fun?”

“This isn’t all about me.” He forced out an uncomfortable chuckle. “What do you do for fun?”

“Hang out with friends. Go to parties. Spend time with fam…”

The buzz in Jisung’s head grew and the overhead lights shifted from soft yellow to searing white. He fought the urge to visibly block it like he normally did. Jason wasn’t a bad guy, by any means. When two older people were thrust to the forefront of Jisung’s mind, he knew Jason wasn’t going to be able to consider a relationship any time soon.

“You might want to call your parents.” Jisung stood up and tucked his chair beneath the table. Guilt flooded him when Jason looked discouraged, confused, and a little heartbroken. “And take the weekend for yourself.”

“What?” Jason’s phone buzzed and moved its way to vibrate against his coffee cup. He looked down at the caller ID and back up at Jisung. “Sorry, I have to…”

“I’m so sorry for your loss. I didn’t mean to…”

He sprinted to the door and rushed out into the campus quad, leaving Jason crying at the table as the person on the other end of the line gave him the bad news. The cold air stung his face as he sprinted away from his personal hell. He did it again, he screamed at himself, ignoring looks from the other students. He wasn’t sure if it was out loud or in his head. Frantically making his way to his dorm room, his head was exploding and collapsing at the same time. He did it again. He wasn’t safe. He’ll apologize later. If Jason will ever talk to him again. Maybe Jisung can part with some of his savings as an apology. Would $500 do? Maybe $1,000? That’s a lot of money, but maybe it will help offset the funeral costs. Is that a bribe at that point?

Jisung threw himself onto his mattress and screamed into his pillow. It was too much. He’ll never get away from this. Forever his curse. Forever alone. Forever unloved. He was probably jumping to conclusions, but he didn’t care right now. He just wanted the older couple, a tall blonde man and short redheaded woman with the same blue eyes, to leave his mind. He screamed until his throat was hoarse and cried until his eyes were sore and stinging. Through the afternoon and evening. As punishment, he opened the window and refused to use a blanket as the chilly fall air filled the room. The moon, almost full, was a natural substitute for the bright light he associated with his curse. The pain from the cold eventually left him exhausted and plunged him into a sorrowful slumber.

He tried to apologize to Jason in class the week after their date, but he just glared and turned his back.

Jisung didn’t fault Jason for his reaction, so he dropped the class the next day. He’ll catch math next semester. It’ll serve as punishment for taking away someone’s parent if he takes from himself the small sparks of joy he gets from moving variables back and forth across the equals sign.

He didn’t tell a soul about Jason or the date that ended in death. Not even Felix or Seungmin. Dying as an old maid can’t be that bad. Or whatever the male version of an old maid was. Any hopes of being otherwise were shoved down for now. Shoved into the abyss where mothers and fathers go to die.

Chapter Text

1 year, 1 month, 19 days ago

Jisung had to do it.
Felix and Seungmin both agreed he had to do it.
But he didn’t really want to do it.

Stupid graduation gift.

Between being a loner, a financial nit, getting an increase in his academic scholarship after freshman year, and working all summer, he never got close to spending one dime of the $5,000 graduation gift. Where better to put it than the exchange program to South Korea. He was too young to remember anything about living there, but he still felt drawn to the country and its culture. He fondly remembered his early days in Atlanta’s Koreatown, and the many weekends he spent there with Felix and Seungmin before he withdrew for fear of spreading his curse to anyone else. It was silly to think his 11-year-old self thought he had immense power over something that, although very real, was probably irrational.

Knowing that people were going to die was a hunch that just happened to be right over and over again. He wondered in his (even more than normal) quiet moments if he could try and make some extra money by becoming a medium like he saw on TV. But then he would be lying, and lying was no good. It was that thought process, weighing heavy on his heart, that finally pushed him to confess to his friends why he was such a loner.

They met up around Seungmin’s kitchen table last month to catch up in person. They had stayed in touch through text and Discord over the past year, but nothing can beat the three of them being together again. Jisung broke down relatively quickly after getting past the basic pleasantries, and everything he had been holding back spilled out in a frantic, crying mess. To Jisung’s surprise, they weren’t mad about him hiding it for so long. Disappointed maybe, and sad that they couldn’t help him sooner, but certainly not angry. It was while they were consoling him that Jisung brought up wanting to go to South Korea for a semester, but the concept was terrifying.

What if he made friends?
What if he cursed someone else?

But, of course, because his friends were logical and beautiful souls (Seungmin and Felix, respectively, Jisung joked with a face full of tears and snot), they told him just because he could predict deaths doesn’t mean he was cursing people. It wasn’t his fault his parents died, or that others he got close to had loved ones die. And besides, Jisung needed to learn to start trusting people again. Shutting every human out not named Seungmin or Felix during his formative social years did him no good. So it was time to get a fresh start. Be the person he used to be. The child that, despite knowing too much about death, was joyful and optimistic. That little kid from kindergarten who was determined to be the best friend he could to Seungmin and Felix.

And that’s how he ended up in Gimhae International Airport, leaning on a wall next to the bathroom, desperately trying to calm his nerves, before getting picked up by a freshman named Jeongin to stay on campus for the next few months.

1 year, 1 month, 16 days ago

No confidence.

That’s how Jisung felt as he walked to his first day of class for his semester in Busan. He chose fall semester instead of spring, because every time he thought about the year 2020, it gave him overwhelming existential dread, particularly when thinking about spring. Likewise, he chose Busan over Seoul because he could avoid the existential dread about seeing the reality of where he used to live.

His three general education courses would be taught in English, but where he was heading this morning was his music class, which would be taught in Korean. He brushed up on his Korean over the summer with his adopted parents, who were still fluent and helped him out tremendously. As a music minor, missing an opportunity to take a music class in a different country seemed foolish. If he was here anyway, might as well immerse himself in the culture in some tiny way. It also had the largest potential to make new friends. Making music with others would hopefully bridge the language barrier. Maybe he’d get lucky and meet someone else who would know English as well as Jeongin did.

Jeongin, his roommate for the semester, gave him a tour of the campus over the weekend, and was not afraid to open up to Jisung about his life. It eased Jisung into having his first genuine human connection in years. The freshman was unsure if he wanted to pursue nursing or early childhood education. A Busan resident his whole life, he took pride in excelling in the most advanced English classes his high school offered, and his inherent love of helping people led him to volunteer to room with an exchange student fluent in English.

Filled with pride and excitement, Jeongin told Jisung all about the American-styled book report he wrote “for fun” last year as they strolled through campus in the crisp autumn air. It took him most of the school year to read “To Kill A Mockingbird,” and over one month to write his essay about it. He chose the book because he was fascinated by how racism was so strong in America at that time, and couldn’t fathom, in his young mind, why people would hate one another just because of their skin color. Being that the book took place in Alabama, he got extra excited that Jisung lived in the nearby state of Georgia. A subtle blush filled his cheeks when he couldn’t remember if the two states were next to one another, or if Mississippi was in between them. Jisung quipped back that most Americans probably didn’t know either, which made Jeongin laugh so loud that it echoed between the buildings and the few students dragging themselves to their early classes.

Jeongin reminded Jisung of how he used to be before his dad died. Hopefully he could take some of that spirit with him to class today.

The fine arts and education buildings were in the same direction, and were the closest classes each of them had from Jilli Hall, where the male transfer students stayed. The majority of their classes would be on the opposite end of campus, as well as Woon Jook Jung, the English speaking dining hall. Jeongin was excited to hang out there and test out what he learned from his conversational English class. Their tentative plan was to meet there for lunch later.

“Alright, I’m further that way.” He said, pointing down a path away from the football stadium. “Have a good first day!”

Jisung did his best to put a lid on his nerves, mentally getting ready to switch from English to Korean. “Thanks! You too!”

He took a moment to stand in front of the main door in the crook of the L-shaped building as Jeongin waved, skipping towards the farthest corner of campus. Shaking his head, impressed by Jeongin’s general buoyancy, much less this early in the day, he made his way through the building to class. He tried to translate Korean phrases he heard as he passed by the excited chatter that only the first week of school could bring.

The blinding white of the room temporarily overtook Jisung as he blinked away the fluorescent lights and saw the rows of desks and chairs to his right. To his left, a whiteboard took up part of the front of the classroom, and a chalkboard with several empty music staffs was to its right. A few students were congregated on the far side of the room, talking in Korean so animatedly that he couldn’t catch what they were saying. He took a seat at the desk one row and one column into the array of desks. If he needed to move closer to the center once more students filled in, so be it.

”Morning classes are awful.”
“It’s okay! You’ll wake up soon!”
“How are you so awake if you never get any sleep, hyung?”

Three distinct voices spoke sentences Jisung actually understood, matching the three people who walked in on his left. A short and sturdy boy with jet black hair walked in first, looking around at the empty desks before noticing Jisung and giving him a polite smile. He was followed closely by the other two, each being noisy in their own way. The boy with dyed blonde hair, his loose curls flying in every direction, was less interesting, despite thoroughly amusing himself by poking the other boy in the back with tiny giggles in between.

It was the soul being poked and making annoyed cat sounds that drew Jisung’s attention.

Everything about him was striking. His chocolate brown hair was parted down the middle, long bangs swept to each side, but was disheveled and staticy for some reason. Jisung suspected it might have to do with his blonde friend rubbing his head, much like an actual cat, to wake him up. It was probably just the gift of rolling out of bed and looking effortlessly gorgeous without trying. He looked resigned to the fate of his friend as he walked past, and that’s when Jisung got to see his side profile. Perfect cheekbones with a striking nose that Jisung wished could be nudged against his cheek someday in a soft display of affection. Jisung’s gawking, paired with his unsettling daydream, almost got caught by a sideways glance, forcing him to reach into his book bag and accept this was his seat for the day.

”Stop…” Jisung couldn’t hear the whispered concern as he kept his gaze fixed on the open notebook he plopped on his desk. ”In front of who?” The blonde asked as they joined their other friend towards the center of the room. ”New…”

“OH!” In a flash, the blonde was sitting at the desk to Jisung’s right. ”I didn’t notice you there! Sorry! Are you new this year?”

Jisung looked up to be polite. Just above the mess of curly blonde hair, he saw the brunette pretend like he wasn’t paying attention. ”I’m a transfer student this semester from America.”

”Would you be more comfortable with English?”

”I was trying to…” Jisung couldn’t think of how to say it in Korean. The person patiently waited with a welcoming smile. He didn’t want to connect with anyone else other than Jeongin, much less three others potentially, but the darkness wasn’t nearby. For now. Plus, the whole point of being halfway across the world was to trust more people around his age other than Felix and Seungmin. Jisung sighed, blowing his bangs off his forehead, and gave him a disappointed smile back. “Blend in? Do the language immersion thing.”

“There’s plenty of time for that. It’s the beginning of the year!” A strong pat on Jisung’s back was oddly reassuring. “My name’s Chan. Come sit with us.”

The firm and steadying touch left a heavy weight in its place while Jisung gathered his things to sit closer to Chan and his friends. The gorgeous brunette continued to pretend he and Chan didn’t exist, and their other friend studied them with fond curiosity. Jisung tried to hide the skepticism creeping into his mind from his facial expression. It wasn’t their fault Jisung had a horrible and depressing curse. Hell, it wasn’t Jisung’s fault either, if he was being honest with himself.

He wished he could stay in Busan and avoid whatever horrors spring semester was going to bring back in Georgia. He hadn’t told anyone of the daydream and/or nightmare that had been hovering by his side for a while now. If they thought his premonitions about death were strange and irrational, this was worse by multitudes. The three kind and smiling Korean students in front of him (Well, two. The other Korean student, who must have been a royal cat from ancient Egypt in his previous life, still wouldn’t look at him) were slowly becoming a background to an overlapping, faint, painfully slow video of a sky full of spiky particles, black and heavy and swirling and covering the entire atmosphere with its sickness, zooming to a spot nearby…

“...Minho, and this is Changbin.” Jisung was startled from his spiraling thoughts, blinking the image away, missing which person was which as Chan introduced them. “Umm, what’s your name?”

”Hello, my name is Jisung. He gave them a bow and spoke with confidence, or tried to, just like when he practiced English for his first day of kindergarten. ”I’m a transfer student from America.”

“You should stick to English!” Who is this awake for an 8AM class? Especially if you don’t sleep much. Chan’s friends were on to something with their confusion and annoyed cat behavior. “These two need to get better at it!”

”Shut up, hyung. I don’t need to learn…”

“Hello, my name is Changbin.” The black-haired boy extended his hand, saving Jisung the embarrassment of asking for their names again. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too.” Jisung shook Changbin’s hand and then looked over at the cute brunette who officially had a name through the brilliant collegiate tactic of deductive reasoning. ”Nice to meet you, Minho-ssi.”

Jisung’s heart fluttered when Minho was finally forced to acknowledge his existence. Of course, he was beautiful. That much was obvious. But his wide brown eyes held a caution that Jisung recognized in himself, staring into his soul and deciding if this random American was worth the time and effort Chan put in. On Minho’s behalf, Jisung realized as he broke into a smile, treasuring the view as long as he could before Minho chose to look away. Just for a moment, Jisung forgot about his dark thoughts. The dark vision that overlapped the world faded to focus on Minho’s tiny head nod and tinier smile.

Nice to meet you, Jisung-ssi.”

“I tried.” Chan shrugged out of the corner of Jisung’s eye. ”You okay, Min?”

”I’m fine.” Changbin snorted next to him, wondering if Minho realized he was still looking at Jisung. “What?”

“Nothing, hyung.” Changbin gave Jisung an exaggerated eye roll, as if to say ‘look at this guy in denial over here.’ Maybe making friends won’t be so bad after all. “You good.”

A pair of footsteps shifted all of their attention, even Minho’s, to their left as the professor glided in with grace and professionalism. Everyone in their seats started to gather their notebooks or laptops to take notes. “If you need help with translating anything,” Chan whispered just as the professor passed by their newly formed ragtag group, “I can write it down in English and we can compare notes later. Or do you want me to take all the notes in English?”

Jisung was suddenly overwhelmed at this stranger’s kindness. “Don’t worry about me. Do whatever’s best for you.”

“I’ll try to do them in English.” He spoke the words quickly, his voice getting louder the more excited he became. “It might be fun actually! I’ll steal Minho’s notes later because Binnie’s handwriting is…”

”Mr. Bahng, class has started.”

Chan looked up at the professor embarrassed. Judging by the professor’s expression, Jisung deduced that this wasn’t the first time Chan has been openly chastised for talking out of turn. ”Sorry. I’m helping the new transfer student.” A few eyes wandered over to notice Jisung, yet no darkness penetrated the bubble Chan, Minho and Changbin managed to create for him. ”He’s not fluent in Korean, so I’m going to help him!”

”That’s okay. Please pay extra attention then.”

Chan bowed in his seat and sent a grin back towards Jisung. Any concerns about darkness or friendship or adapting to Korean society Jisung had evaporated quickly. Keeping up with the speed of the lecture, even if most of it was explaining rules and procedures for the first day of class, was tough. He thanked the universe for throwing him a bone by encouraging Chan to reach out and help him. His backup plan was to ask the professor after class what he should do, but this was much better for him. Self sufficiency is great and all, but it had nothing to do with why Jisung chose to be a transfer student to begin with. After class, they exchanged phone numbers so they could text and keep in touch. When Jisung brought up the English cafeteria and his plans to meet Jeongin there, Chan bounced up and down in excitement. He agreed to go with Jisung whenever he wanted, even if these two knuckleheads won’t join them. Changbin sounded more open to the idea than Minho, who alternated between staring into Jisung’s soul and ignoring him.

As they exited the fine arts building and went their separate ways, Jisung felt happy. It wasn’t anything close to what he thought he would feel on the first day of school, much less ever in his life after his dad died. Chan’s joy, Changbin’s kindness, and Minho’s, well, attractiveness, were in a breathtaking package set at Jisung’s feet wrapped in sheet music. He would be a fool not to take it in spite of his terror. Maybe he could tell Jeongin at lunch all about his first class. He needed to spend some time by himself and accept this foreign reality in a foreign land.

He really should have taken that advice to go to therapy before he was so far away from home. And yet, he technically was home. In the country of his early life. The one his dad left because of the trauma of losing his wife and family. The trauma Jisung brought about by being born. The torture of his curse that would end someday. Whenever the bright light decided he shouldn’t be alive either. Where he could finally protect Felix and Seungmin from causing their parents to die…

Jisung quickened his pace back to the dorm, texting Jeongin to ask if he wanted to meet up for dinner instead. Taking a desperate nap on his first day wasn’t his original plan, but he needed to reset the dark thoughts that finally caught up with the jet lag to haunt him once more.

He could only hope the entire semester wasn’t like this.

1 year, 1 month, 11 days ago

The late monsoon season heat and humidity finally relented as the sun set and moon rose on Saturday evening. Jisung never imagined he would be walking into Woon Jook Jung with four people after one week. But here he is with his roommate and three music classmates entering the hall for an evening meal. Jisung was familiar with the buffet-style setup from Georgia State, but seeing more meat, rice and vegetables and less fried foods was a welcome sight. He had been here twice with Jeongin, but this was the first time Chan, Changbin and Minho were able to join them. He was extra nervous as they approached a small round table that seated six.

”Do we have to speak English?” Minho grumbled as he sat to Jisung’s right, despite having other options around the table, sinking into his seat dramatically.

“You wanted to come here.” Chan narrowed his eyebrows in Minho’s direction, his elder tone turned up to full strength. “I didn’t force you.”

“Plus!” Jeongin, who already had a joyous aura about him, became more excited whenever English came up in conversation, and doubly so when he spoke it. “You can practice your English!”

“My English is not good.” Changbin admitted sheepishly.

Chan settled in between Minho and Changbin, tray filled with bowls of bulgogi and rice. “It’s fine, Binnie. No one’s going to judge.”

“I judge you, Changbin.” Minho snickered, despite his English being the worst of his three classmates by quite a bit.

“Because your English is so good, right?”

The friendly banter went on while these people Jisung knew were getting acquainted with each other as best as they could in a second language. It was impressive how accurate Jeongin’s English was compared to Chan and Jisung, the native speakers in their group from Australia and America, respectively. Changbin was doing his best to keep up, and Minho kept doing what he normally did around Jisung, which was care and not care at the same time.

He was a tough cat to figure out, Minho was. Regardless of what chairs they chose in class, or what direction they decided to walk, Jisung and Minho always ended up next to each other. It didn’t appear to be intentional either, at least from Jisung’s end. Sure, Minho was gorgeous, but Jisung knew he was out of Minho’s league. By a long shot. And yet Minho was the one whose hand was always twitching as their arms swung side by side, or his eyes catching Jisung’s and looking away embarrassed. Jisung wasn’t sure if Chan had noticed, but he knew Changbin did, and very subtly pointed out these “coincidences” as they piled up.

“When are your birthdays?” Jisung perked up at the word ‘birthday,’ as he was hoping to avoid the question until after his had come and gone. “Mine’s in February.”

“Mine was last month.” Changbin spoke slowly, eyes boring through Jeongin in his attempt to focus and prove he didn’t suck at speaking English. “On 11 August.”

“August 11th, Bin.” Chan gently corrected him. “Mine is October 3rd, a few weeks! Ahh!!!”

Minho subtly shook his head with a grin at Chan’s excited response. “Soon.” He simply replied.

“Real specific, Minho-ssi.” Jeongin looked to his direct right at Jisung, eyes genuine as he wanted to learn as much as he could about everyone he met. “What about you, hyung?”

“Umm…” He wanted to lie, but how was he going to make real friends if he lied to them about something so simple? “Today, actually.”

Chan slammed his hands on either side of his tray, his eyes bugged out in surprise. “Today?!?! Why didn’t you say something?”

“No one asked.” Jisung shrugged. The smiles around the table were foreign, yet comforting. He closed his eyes. He wanted to be a normal college student so badly. To share that feeling of camaraderie with others not named Seungmin and Felix. “My best friend’s birthday is tomorrow. I’m going to call him at midnight so we can wish each other happy birthday on the opposite day. Since we’re in different time zones.”

“Cool.” Minho dodged Jisung’s eye contact, but Jisung could tell he was just being his royal cat self. “What is his name?”

“Felix.” Jisung could feel his body relax for the first time in who knows how long. “We met in kindergarten.”

1 year, 1 month, 10 days ago

Jisung scrolled on his phone in the dorm lobby, so he didn’t interrupt Jeongin while he slept (because what college student goes to sleep before midnight?) and realized it was 12:01 A.M.

Ahh! He was one minute late!

“Happy birthday from the future!”

”Happy birthday from the past!”

God, it was so nice to hear Felix’s voice. They texted a few times since Jisung arrived, but there’s nothing quite like hearing directly from your best friend. “Thanks. How are you?”

“Good, but it’s the beginning of the semester still.” Jisung couldn’t stop grinning. The remnants of his Australian accent reminded him of Chan when he spoke English. “Are you doing okay?”

The memories and conversations from earlier that evening swirled through his mind. “Yeah.” As positive as they were, Jisung couldn’t help but feel he was always at war with himself. Always on edge waiting for the next life he would ruin. “I think I might be making friends. We had dinner tonight at the English dining hall.”

“Oh!” Felix sounded surprised, but also a little concerned. “How are you feeling about that?”

“Nervous.” Jisung’s eyes darted around the room to make sure he was alone. “I don’t want to hurt them. Or make them sad because of me.”

“Sung, it’s okay to be scared. You know that, right?” He could imagine Felix’s encouraging smile and nodded in response. “You can always text or call me or Seungmin if you need help, okay? We love you, and I’m sure they’ll love you too.”

Minho’s mixed signals sprung to the front of his mind. “What if they don’t?”

“Then you’ll be home soon and life will go on just like it always has.”

The dread and the cloud of spikes returned.

“I hope so.”

1 year ago

Jisung had been in South Korea for almost two months now. He was shocked at how much more Korean he understood now than when he landed. Chan still wrote notes in English for him in music class, but he found he didn’t need them as desperately as he did the first week. Jisung, Chan, Minho and Changbin even had a group name. Minho decided to call them 4racha, based on Minho’s love of sriracha sauce. It was also connected to a time where Minho convinced Chan to dip a french fry into ‘ketchup,’ and the epic reaction when the spice-adverse elder started babbling for forgiveness and trying to take his clothes off in public because of the overwhelming taste.

Also, as Minho mentioned frequently, because the four of them were smoking hot.

Jisung wasn’t completely sure he was as attractive as Chan, Minho and Changbin were, but he wouldn’t turn down a free compliment from his new friends. Friends. The term was strange to use, but it didn’t feel wrong. Chan, Minho, Changbin and Jeongin were four people Jisung hung out with regularly and got to know through conversations in Korean and English. Minho didn’t speak much English, which encouraged Jisung to practice Korean more diligently in order to talk to him. Having a crush does strange things…

But today, Jisung was looking for a practice room in the fine arts building. They had a project due Monday, and he knew plunking keys on a piano now would be better than to risk finding an open practice room on Sunday. He was relieved that college procrastination problems had some overlap between the two countries. Chan was already finished with this project and was halfway done with the next, but that man’s organization and discipline was otherworldly. As for the rest of 4racha, they needed the weekend to finish their melody and chord progression appropriate to whatever culture they were studying and researching. His professor reassured Jisung that he could use a script to read in Korean, and also generously allowed him to turn in an English version in case he tripped up on his words and grammar during his talk. Chan worked with him during random dinners in both dining halls, making sure he could help in every way he could so Jisung wasn’t laughed out of class.

But composing his song was all on him.

Scanning the hallways, he was surprised that the rooms were this crowded on a Friday night when he expected most students to start the weekend early. Ideally, he would pick a room that wasn’t adjacent to an occupied one, but that was looking like less and less of an option.

“...we live now? You tell me.”

A captivating voice cut through the din of the other students practicing. The student attached to it didn’t sound like a native English speaker. Not like he expected anyone to be, given where he was. He heard different vowel pronunciations being sounded out between notes and phrases. Jisung rushed to a nearby bench to sit and ‘study’ so he could hear more…okay, eavesdrop on this person’s practice. He pulled out a library book from his bag, a book of popular Korean children’s stories, and pretended to read it as the male student continued.

“With parts of our hearts torn away, just existin’ makes dyin’ look awful easy. But maybe, tomorrow, I’ve done enough dyin’ today.”

Jisung flipped to the next page and stared at it, the words and pictures on the page barely there. He had thrown himself into his schoolwork and friendships so much that he forgot about the darkness. Forgot about his curse that tore people’s hearts apart and made them face death when they weren’t ready for it. He wondered if it was one of his classmates, even though it probably wasn’t. There was no requirement to use lyrics for their compositions, much less in a foreign language.

They were great lyrics though. If Jisung put his mental lies and bullshit aside, the image that came to mind was someone sitting on a back porch with a guitar, staring into a massive cotton field with workers up and down the rows picking the newest crop. Maybe a slave who was too old and frail to work the fields properly and, by the mercy of his master, was able to stay back and let the children ask him all their questions and tell all their jokes. Maybe he lost loved ones in that very field, making death look easy in comparison to working from sun up to sun down in the hot summer months. Long days with no shade, limited food and water, and minimal down time until you returned to your small living quarters in the evening. The joyous sounds of mothers and fathers and children coming together to make music and live their best lives despite their unfortunate circumstances of being owned by white men. Maybe that image came to Jisung’s mind since he had seen cotton fields, and remnants of them, during his childhood in Georgia.

He was trying to remember if anyone had planned to research the slave culture of the pre-Civil War American south and its musical traditions. It sounded like something one of his friends might do. Maybe not though. He had heard Chan sing before and knew it wasn’t him. He didn’t think it was Changbin’s voice either, as it probably wouldn’t go that high without a decent amount of falsetto. That would leave Minho.

Minho.
Who openly teases Chan and Jisung for speaking English.
Who teases Changbin even more for wanting to learn it.
Who dodged Jisung’s questions about what topic he picked for their project.

Jisung closed his book and put it down on the cold, sleek bench next to his bag and peeked through the narrow, vertical window into the room. A full head of brown hair without gel (Jisung thought it looked nicer that way) hovered over the piano. The side profile that left Jisung speechless the first day of class, and quite frankly every day since, stood out as Minho studied a curled sheet of paper, threatening to float to the ground and brush against the piano bench on its descent there.

“Hah-oo. Nah-oo. That’s so weird. Ahh-oo. Ahh-oo. Ee-oo teh-eh-ehll meee. Why did I pick English lyrics and not ask Channie hyung for help? I’m an idiot…love…that’s why. Huh?”

Jisung was listening so intently that he didn’t have time to react when Minho opened the door. The older’s quick reflexes and deceptive strength helped him catch Jisung before he fell to the ground. Despite sitting and standing next to each other often, Jisung had been particular about not being touched. It wasn’t directly part of his curse, per se. In fact, it seemed to work the opposite way. Even still, Jisung didn’t want to risk endangering his friends by accident. But something about being in Minho’s arms, albeit temporarily, felt insanely right.

“Hi.” Jisung kept his hands on Minho’s upper arms, surprised Minho wasn’t pushing him away.

“Hi, Jisungie.” Minho’s wide brown eyes were fond, instead of murderous or mocking like Jisung expected. How much did you hear?”

”Your voice is pretty.” Minho pulled Jisung into the room by his waist, where he caught Jisung and hadn’t let go, and closed the door behind them. “You could have asked me or Chan hyung for help.”

”I wanted to surprise you.” Minho’s eyes locked on where his hands sat and shook himself out of Jisung’s hold. His ears grew bright red as they both awkwardly kept their arms at their sides. ”All of you. Surprise all of you.”

“Oh. Cool. Do you want help?”

“Yeah.” Minho sat down at the piano bench and looked at the lyric sheet. It was written in small English letters, with music chords above certain words and heavy lines to cross out others. I’m just trying to figure out how to pronounce the words. I’m done with everything else.”

Jisung badly wanted to sit on the piano bench next to him so they could be close again. He settled for glancing over Minho’s shoulder instead. “Are there any words you’re struggling with?”

“Sit.” Apparently Minho wanted that too, tugging Jisung abruptly by his arm to sit to his right. Jisung felt warm tingles where their arms and thighs were pressed together. “Read them for me.”

“Did you write these?”

“Mmhmm.” Minho tucked his arm under Jisung’s to intertwine their hands, but kept his eyes fixed on his lyrics. “I asked Jeongin help.”

“You asked Jeongin?” Jisung’s forehead found Minho’s shoulder as he hid his amusement from imagining how that conversation went. “The non-native English speaker?”

“Umm…”

“It’s fine, hyung.” Jisung squeezed his hand, hoping he knew it was just teasing, and looked at the rest of the lyrics from his shoulder. He read through the lyrics quickly, but stalled so he could stay in Minho’s presence as long as he was allowed. “These are really good.”

”He blackmailed me into writing a song about his book report if I wanted his help.”

“Blackmail?”

Minho scooted to the edge of the piano bench to give them some space. The chill that left Jisung’s hand quickly transferred to his cheeks where Minho gently cradled his face. His eyes were full of admiration and fondness. And unlike other moments, Jisung couldn’t write it off as Minho having that spark for someone or something else.

Of course Jisung felt the same way about him. It’s just…he didn’t want to risk putting Minho through any pain. At all. Ever. But being selfish enough to be in a relationship with him would do just that. Being his friend was bad enough. Having four new friends was bad enough. All the hurt he was going to cause them, only because he ended up in Jeongin’s dorm room and Chan decided to be nice on his first day of class. It’s a shame he couldn’t wear a sign written in neon letters to tell people to stay away.

Minho put his left finger over Jisung’s lips and imitated Jeongin’s familiar grin that was on a suspiciously narrow spectrum between evil and slap-happy. “You do this or I tell. Blackmail.”

“Ah.” Jisung closed his eyes to push his sad thoughts away and leaned into the hand still on his cheek. “Tell what?”

”That’s why he blackmailed me!” Minho waited for a reaction. A laugh or smile. But nothing happened. “Jisungie?”

“Yeah?”

“You okay?”

Tell him now. Tell him now and save him from foolishly falling in love with you. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” Jisung felt a heavy heart across from him, but at least it wasn’t dark. Just sad. His eyes released his built up tears, and he giggled when Minho had his signature skeptical look laser focused on him. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

Minho shook his head. “Do you need hug?”

Who is Jisung kidding? Of course he needs a hug. “Please?”

Minho stood up and pulled Jisung into his chest, who broke down the instant his head found a place to rest. Jisung went back and forth between audibly sobbing and trying to hold it in. They stood there in each other’s arms, slow dancing to a song Minho was humming near Jisung’s ear. The gentle melody contrasted sharply against the harsh grip of Jisung’s hands clutching at Minho’s shirt, never wanting to let go. He stayed there, despite his better judgement, knowing he should let Minho go to save him.

”Happy birthday to me. Happy birthday to me. I’m holding Jisungie. Finally. Happy birthday to me.”

His singing voice was more beautiful than hearing it through a door. Except that melody and those words sounded familiar...”It’s your birthday?!?”

“Yes.” Minho was surprised that Jisung understood him. “Today is my birthday.”

“And you’re spending it here? With me?” Jisung tried not to get snot on Minho’s shirt from his leftover crying sniffles, especially on his birthday!

“Spending? Like money?”

“Oh. Umm…”

What’s the best way to explain that concept in Korean? And how could the explanation ever be as romantic as Minho explaining blackmail? Jisung took a small step to put space between them and felt Minho’s arms firm against his lower back. This was definitely the most sustained physical contact he had with anyone since the birthday before his dad died when they sat together and talked about his mom. It was hard to tell if Jisung was okay with touch because he missed it, or because it was Minho. Minho’s expression of wonder, his wanting to learn an English turn of phrase, was so sincere that it broke Jisung’s heart a little.

“I’m here.” Jisung lightly tapped his chest. ”You’re here.” He did the same to Minho before moving his hand between them. Minho’s eyes followed the movement like a kitten getting ready to pounce on a toy mouse. ”We’re here together. Right now. Spending time together.”

“Ohh…” Minho traced his eyes from where Jisung’s hand landed on his chest to his face, lingering on his lips before making eye contact. “I like…spending time together…with you. So, it good birthday for me. Yeah!”

The simple joy in his voice made Jisung forget anything else in the world existed. “Can you sing for me?”

“I sang happy birthday song for you.”

“I meant your project for Monday.” Jisung pointed back to the piano for emphasis, refusing to look away from the cute frown he wished he could kiss away.

“Oh. Read the lyrics for me first. I trust your English more than Jeongin’s.”

Jisung nodded and sat back down on the right side of the piano bench reluctantly. He felt Minho watch him properly read the lyrics. They were really well-written for two non-native speakers. He wondered if Jeongin found a poem somewhere in his research, or if the two of them hovered over a Korean-to-English dictionary in order to put them together. If Minho was willing to avoid him and Chan for an assignment that had to do with English, it must be a big secret Jeongin was keeping over his head for blackmail. Scanning the paper one more time with a squint, Jisung took a deep breath and began to read.

“What will we do now? You tell me
The hourglass is all out of sand
How could love slip through our fingers
And leave nothin' but time on our hands?
And how will we live now? You tell me
With parts of our hearts torn away
Just existin’ makes dyin' look easy
But maybe tomorrow, I've done enough dyin' today”

“Wow.” Minho sat and rested his head on Jisung’s shoulder. “You sound pretty.”

“No, YOU sound pretty.” Jisung retorted, grabbing his hand again.

“You look pretty.”

“I’m not as pretty as you.”

“Stop lying.” Minho threw both his arms around Jisung’s waist and pulled him closer, turning his body into his personal pillow. “You more pretty.”

Jisung squirmed in embarrassment. “Now you’re lying!”

Minho nuzzled his cheek on Jisung’s shoulder and hummed contentedly. “Nope. You my pretty Jisungie.”

What a nice dream.

Too bad it could never be reality.

11 months, 23 days ago

Even with the rest of 4racha and Jeongin by his side, the walk to Gwangalli Beach was intimidating. Jisung had adjusted to finding ways of being around people while still being alone, even within his new friend group. The yearly Busan International Fireworks Festival, on the other hand, was a hurdle Jisung feared he couldn’t jump over. Jeongin suggested the weekend activity, since it was one of his favorite events of the year, so of course 4racha wanted to tag along.

Without telling them about his deep anxiety around crowds, his friends created a circle to help them find a good seat for the show. Minho was to his right, and Jeongin to his left. Changbin was in front to elbow people out of the way if needed. Chan was behind them, making sure no one got separated. It was the same protection and safety he felt on his first day of class. The one that lifted the burden he felt because of his curse. The protection brought Jisung peace. He felt like he could be a normal college kid who has friends and can do things with them in real life. Embracing the Felix life, Jisung thought to himself, shooting a smile at Minho as he indulged in mimicking Felix’s confidence.

”I see a spot over there!” Changbin shouted over his shoulder, steering them away from the water.

”Lead the way then!” Chan shouted back.

Somehow, through the masses, Changbin found two empty benches. They faced out towards the beach, just off the path, close enough where you could stand up and be one step away from the sand. He plowed through the remaining people, in a strong yet gentle way, and plopped on the far bench. Chan laughed as his friend mumbled to himself about how benches shouldn’t have hard seats and settled in next to him. Minho pulled Jisung by the hand to sit on the near bench, positioning them so Jisung was on top of Minho’s lap as much as he could be without actually being there. Jeongin, wholly unbothered by the antics of his hyungs, chose to sit cross legged in front of them on the sand. For now, his back was to the water so they could talk before the main fireworks display began.

”This brings back so many memories!” He happily exclaimed. ”Thanks for coming with me.

”You’re welcome. Sounded like fun.” Minho smiled at Jeongin briefly before leaning on Jisung’s shoulder.

Changbin cocked his head to the side in confusion, looking at his longtime friend and the transfer student sitting so close together. ”You two have gotten close since the project last week.”

”What’s your point, Binnie?

Jisung waved his hand to defuse the tension. ”We helped Minho hyung with his English, that’s all.”

“We?” Jisung was amazed at how animated Chan’s expressions were, even in bad lighting. “Who is we?” When Jisung gestured to him and Jeongin, Chan pretended to be offended. ”And you left me out?”

“Blackmail.” Jisung replied.

Jeongin’s eyes bugged out. He clearly had been spending too much time with Chan. ”It’s not good blackmail if hyung just told you what it was about.”

“He didn’t tell me what it was. Just that it happened.”

The youngest raised his eyebrows in Minho’s direction. ”Tonight would be a great night to let Jisung hyung know.”

“Look! It’s starting!”

Jeongin gave one last knowing look to Jisung before he turned around, jerking his head subtly to his right. Jisung had vague ideas of what blackmail Jeongin tried to hold over him. Even if Minho never spoke it directly, his actions after their time in the practice room showed all the signs of a crush. They spent more time together as well. Usually they met in the practice rooms, Minho’s dorm with a friend Jisung didn’t know, or Jisung’s dorm when they knew Jeongin was busy.

Hopes, dreams, thoughts and prayers could only go so far before the words needed to be spoken into existence. That whole manifesting thing people were so crazy about. Jisung always thought that combining hard work and opportunity was better than any manifestations he could hope for. Then again, he never felt an attraction this deep. He wanted it to be real, but maybe he was getting his hopes up.

Music blared over the speakers as the fireworks started to explode in time. Different colors, shapes and sizes filled the air above the beach. It truly was a man-made marvel to be enjoyed until climate activists and pet advocates decided for everyone that it should be taken away. Until then, Jisung could enjoy the beauty of the colors in the sky reflected in the beauty of Minho’s profile.

When he turned to his left to admire the view, Minho was staring straight back at him.

“Hi.” Jisung kept his voice low to not draw the attention of his friends.

“Hi, Jisungie.” Minho gave Jisung all of his attention in the soft, fond way he always did when his friends weren’t nearby. The cover of night must have boosted his confidence too. “You pretty.”

“You’re beautiful too, hyung.”

“I…” He narrowed his eyebrows in the particular way he did when he was trying to think of the correct way to express his thoughts in English. “I really like you.”

The stirring in Jisung’s chest had nothing to do with visions of death for once. “Me too.”

“No, I…” He shook his head. ”I’m going to miss you when you leave.”

“Me too.” Jisung held back a laugh, looking at the vibrant colors reflecting on the water. “I wish I didn’t have to go.”

“Stay then.”

“I don’t have the money for that.” Jisung wished he could stay. Really. “University in America is more expensive than here.”

“Then I go to you.” Jisung tore his eyes away from the fireworks to properly laugh. Minho had moved closer. Their noses were almost touching now. ”What? I’m serious. I’ll study in America. There’s still time for me to apply.”

This was a bad idea. Maybe Jisung led Minho on when he shouldn’t have, despite his heart wanting what Minho wanted. “How do you know?”

“I look into it. Birthday gift for me.”

Jisung wanted to pull away, but his body was refusing, as it always did when Minho was near. “No, Minho, hyung, I don’t think you know what you’re getting into with me. I’m not who you think I am.” He couldn’t bear to look at Minho or the fireworks. “I’m going to hurt you. I hurt everyone eventually. I have no more family, and it’s my fault. I’m lucky that Seungmin and Felix’s parents are all still alive. It’s like they’ve been protected somehow from my bullshit, but I don’t know who else will be safe, you know?”

The second Jisung looked up at Minho, he felt lips pressed against his. It was brief, but Jisung was pretty sure he didn’t hallucinate. The light reflected in Minho’s eyes was as bright as the fireworks over the water. Always the same look of admiration and fondness, with a softer side of Minho that he didn’t show to just anyone.

Jisung truly believed that he had that same look for Minho. He certainly felt the same way. He just wouldn’t be able to live with himself if things didn’t work out. But isn’t that all relationships? Perhaps. But not all relationships include a person with a curse as bad and strong and consistent as Jisung’s curse. The clouds of spikes pinged in his mind, but disappeared as quickly as the short bursts of gold that stayed close to the ground.

”You mean a lot to me, Jisungie.” Minho brushed the back of his fingers against Jisung’s cheek. ”I’ve thought about it. A lot. I don’t want to lose you. Let me experience America with you.”

Jisung tried to hold his tears back. “So fast.”

“But so right.”

Can’t argue with that. “But so right.” Jisung repeated.

“Please?”

Minho’s soft eyes made Jisung want to melt right there if the late fall air wasn’t as chilly as it was. Frankly, he wanted what Minho wanted. He just didn’t want to make a decision before he gave it some thought. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good.”

Against his better judgment, Jisung leaned in to kiss Minho’s cheek, surprised by how cold his skin was from being outside for so long. Lingering there, he rested his forehead against the man who he couldn’t get enough of. “I don’t want to lose you either.”

Looking back towards the water, body fully relaxed and resting on Minho, Jisung enjoyed the finale of the overlapping sparkles in the sky. Tonight, he would savor the touch, words and physical affection Minho was willing to give him. He just hoped that he wouldn’t break Minho’s heart in the meantime.

9 months, 25 days ago

There was no way around it.
Being separated from Minho sucked.

After being a perpetual loner forever, missing someone this much felt foreign. He didn’t even miss Felix or Seungmin this much. Then again, he never had a crush on Felix or Seungmin. That would be weird. Gross even.

Minho would be flying in next weekend to adjust to the time difference. Meeting Jisung’s parents and staying at the house before moving into the dorm for the spring. Jisung has tentative plans of going to Koreatown and bringing Minho to his favorite restaurants. But if he wanted to sleep off his jet lag, Jisung was more than willing to let himself be scooped into Minho’s arms and be squeezed to death, laughing together until they fell asleep.

Jisung’s phone rang, and he got excited that he could see Minho on Facetime after he saw his beautiful face…yesterday. Okay, they were talking or texting every day, but the lack of holding hands and cuddling left Jisung feeling empty. He adjusted the phone, propped up by his laptop, to make sure the camera could prominently display the yellow and blue cardigan Minho gave him at Gimhae before he disappeared behind the security gates. The rain over the weekend brought a chill that made it the perfect garment to provide extra warmth and the remnants of Minho’s scent for comfort. Tapping the accept button, he tightened the sweater around his body and waited to see the person that brought him so much joy.

“Hi, hyung! Happy new year!”

“Thanks.” Minho’s lopsided smile melted Jisung’s heart. “I miss you, Jisungie.”

“I miss you, too.” They told each other every day, but it was nice to hear Minho felt it as strongly as Jisung did.

They stared at each other silently, as they often did, before Minho smirked and pulled at the shoulder of his shirt. ”You look good in my sweater.”

“I should have given you one of mine.”

”Who said I don’t already have one?”

Jisung was shocked, but decided to play up his reaction for the camera. “Wow, Min! How dare you steal my clothes!”

“You no pay attention.” Minho stuck his tongue out and glanced behind him, looking nervous when he turned back around. Umm, can we talk later?

“We just started talking…” Jisung hoped he wasn’t bothering Minho and keeping him from something more important.

”I know. I’m sorry. I wanted to say hello and see your face before they notice I’m gone. I don’t want to get teased for talking to my boyfriend instead of enjoying the party.”

Boyfriend?!?! “Boyfriend?”

“Of course! Boyfriend!” Minho blew a kiss to the camera. “Bye bye, Jisungie.”

“Wait, we’re dating?” Jisung was genuinely shocked this time.

Minho turned around fully this time, and Jisung noticed the closed door behind him. ”Shut up, idiot! I’m talking to my mom!” When he turned back towards the camera, the color of his cheeks and ears were more red than a few moments ago. “Sorry. Seo Changbin pabo. We talk later, okay?”

Jisung was confused. “Are we dating, hyung?”

The door opened so forcefully that it hit against the wall. Light filled the room Minho was in, revealing Changbin in the background. A quick scan of the situation led Jisung to the conclusion that Minho ducked behind the bed to hide and give him more time to say hello. ”I knew it!” Changbin roared, and his signature bright laugh rang out. ”You can’t lie to me, hyung! I knew exactly who you were talking…”

The phone camera pointed towards the ground as Minho ended the call. Jisung couldn’t help but laugh. Sure, he missed Minho, but the other friends he made in Busan were important to him too. He learned a lot while he was in South Korea, and it was money and time well spent to feel like a human integrated into society again.

But did he leave with a boyfriend?

When he thought about it, there’s no way Minho would agree to come to his random friend’s college for one semester. They did try different restaurants and see different sights in Busan when they could. They kicked Jeongin out of the dorm more times than he could count so they could watch videos together, or just cuddle and talk. Those would be considered dates and boyfriend activities by most people. Even though Jisung missed Minho more than anyone he had ever met, other than his dad, he never knew enough people who were worth missing.

So yeah, maybe Minho was his boyfriend.
And his boyfriend would be here next week.

Jisung was flooded with excitement and butterflies all over again. Before he could let it overwhelm him, he needed to find Seungmin. He was home from break too, and they wouldn’t have time to talk with their own New Year’s Eve celebration later that evening.

Seungmin is smart. He’ll know how to help Jisung. They’re practically brothers at this point, and Seungmin wished Jisung asked him for help more often. He wouldn’t be judgmental, but he might tease Jisung for being clueless. But what good brother wouldn’t when the clues were there all along?

He abandoned his phone and rushed to Seungmin’s room. Before he knew it, they got caught up in their talk and the family celebrations. The sound of fireworks reminded him of the festival back in Busan, and where they confessed their love for one another that was there from day one. As the seconds counted down, Jisung closed his eyes and dreamt of a day where he and Minho could kiss as the new year came in. It would be a reality before he knew it.

And he couldn’t fucking wait.

9 months, 24 days ago

00:25
Happy new year, Jisungie
I never answered your question
Of course we’re dating lol
I would never let Chan hyung or Binnie touch me that much
I miss you
See you soon <3

9 months, 17 days ago

Pacing back and forth, Jisung stared down the international exit in the baggage claim area of terminal F. Every face was going through a mental computer scan, and was instantly rejected if it wasn’t Minho. He had been going so stir crazy that he left the house way earlier than he needed to. Well, more like Seungmin kicked him out because he wouldn’t stop walking around the house.

Seungmin would get a chance to meet the magnificent Minho before he had to return for his spring semester. Ever since New Year's Eve, Jisung wouldn’t shut up about how amazing Minho was. As happy as Seungmin was to see Jisung happy, it was getting to be a bit much. But Seungmin didn’t let Jisung know, at least directly, and was grateful that the wait to see him again was almost over.

The busiest airport in the world sure had a lot of people going through it. These were the brilliant thoughts of a college sophomore. A sophomore who couldn’t believe Minho trusted him enough to fly to another country just to spend time with him. The power seemed too strong. It concerned him as much as the dread he felt when he thought of 2020. Whenever it crept up in his soul, it kept getting shoved down by love. The overwhelming, all-consuming feeling of love.

It felt ominous somehow.

“Jisungie?”

Jisung was surprised that he heard his name through the clangs of baggage falling on turnstiles and overhead announcements welcoming people to the great state of Georgia. He looked up to see his favorite person wearing his oversized white and black checkered sweater. Thumbs hooked under the straps of his backpack, he slowed down and focused his cat stare on Jisung. When he smiled, Jisung felt whole again.

“Minho hyung?”

Minho broke away from the crowd of people he was walking with to move closer. The instant there was a clear path between them, he ran. Jisung threw his arms around the backpack and buried his head in Minho’s shoulder. Minho returned the hug in kind, kissing him on the cheek before pulling him closer.

“I missed you.”

Jisung cried into his sweater, releasing all the stress and sadness that had built up. “I missed you too, hyung.”

“It’s okay, jagi.” Minho whispered near his right ear. “Don’t cry.”

“I’m so happy to see you.” The shock of seeing Minho again made Jisung cry harder. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Jisungie.”

“Please don’t leave me.”

While Minho tried to calm Jisung down, the darkness tried to rise again. The clouds and spikes he worked all semester to push away wouldn’t leave him alone. Goddamn it, he just wants to be happy and loved. The curse can fuck off.

“I won’t leave you, Jisungie.” He tried to let go, but Jisung wouldn’t let him. A puff of air blew past his ear as a low, quiet chuckle. “I promise.”

“Till death do us part?”

The marriage vow came from nowhere, and yet it mattered. However Minho responded to this question mattered on a grander scale. As protection from his vision devoid of light that might curse the world soon.

“Yes. Till death part.”

“Good.”

Chapter Text

Restaurants and coffee shops. Sharing a bed when two exist. Cooking each other their favorite meals on weekends. Keeping each other company while they studied for their classes.

Dorm life together is everything Jisung could have imagined and more. He wants this for the rest of his life. With Minho.

Only with Minho.

7 months, 11 days ago

The particles swirl thousands of miles away. Sharp and spiky, they hover over China, merging together like a tornado daring to touch ground. A wide funnel cloud in reality, but just a black circle from where Jisung hovers over the world from space. Tiny black dots split off via plane routes to places across China, Asia and the world.

The overhead view shifts to North America as the dots land. Jisung is shocked he can see them because they’re so small. One lands in Washington state. Another in Illinois. Arizona. California. And the pinpoints spread. Covid-19, they call it. But not a concern yet.

What starts as dots become spikes, poking holes in the map of the United States where the virus claims its victims. Where it spreads without knowledge of how deadly it might become. So deadly that entire countries shut down. Their streets barren. Restaurants and churches and gathering places empty, dust collecting from their lack of use.

But Jisung sees further out than the stories he’s heard through the news here and there. Thousands of deaths. Tens of thousands. Hundreds of thousands. Just in the United States. The dots spread across the country, covering rivers and mountain ranges so densely that it’s impossible to know where one state ends and another begins. There are so many pinpricks of death that there is no tactile map left by the end of the school year. No state goes untouched or unaffected. The lights and advertisements of Times Square flash and rotate for no one except those who dare to experience what the world might be like if God snapped his fingers and no humans remained.

His friends in South Korea remain relatively safe. Sure, there are cases and deaths there too, but the government knows what to do. A culture that values caring for others over caring for self. One who already wore masks; A population that doesn’t see them as a novelty, but a necessity. Not a culture who refuses inconvenience for the greater good. The selfish culture Jisung considers his own now. The culture his father opted into in favor of a fresh start.

Just as Jisung starts to feel intense guilt for taking Minho away from his home, he hurtles down from his overhead view to see straight through the destroyed map. Fires created from destruction burn a hole through the clouds. Smoke signals to show where distress is. Missouri? Minnesota? A group of people, in one of those midwestern states, start a protest. And perhaps, in another timeline, it might have stayed a local or statewide headline. But with the world stuck at home and watching for covid updates on the internet, the news spreads, and thousands ignore their personal health and safety in the name of racial injustice. An ironic recurrence of a topic connecting him with Busan and the poem Minho and Jeongin wrote.

Hundreds of protests spring up over that summer. Tens of millions of people nationally and worldwide. All in the middle of the deadly swarm of spikes taking one victim after another. The pockets of fire burned bright. They seared through the summer and fall. Through the struggle of returning to the world before and accepting the world as it is now. A world that will never be the same.

A bright fire, so visible it was white against the swarms of black and smoldering clouds of grey, pulled Jisung towards it. His vision zoomed in on a fire that hovered over Georgia, then Georgia State University, then Seungmin’s house. His house too, by circumstance and the cruelty he created. He was slowed by an invisible tether as the roof became transparent. He saw Minho holding him like they did often as they fell asleep together. But then Minho shook his shoulder. Shook his body.

And then the familiar bright light hit Jisung.

He could hear Minho’s pleas for Jisung to wake up. Then his soft sobs grew into louder screams as he wouldn’t let Jisung go. Jisung bit his lip as he watched Minho pull his body out from under the blankets and cradle him in his arms. It killed Jisung to watch Minho visibly sobbing over losing his fiancé.

Fiancé?

Jisung sensed he was about to wake up. Did he want to know the day of his death? Perhaps to warn Minho and give him a chance to save himself from losing his partner? To save him from this sobbing, screaming emotional pain Jisung could feel straight through his heart like an arrow? There was no guarantee that he would remember anyway, though he doubted that would be the case.

He scanned the house to find a calendar. Bedroom, hallway, down the stairs, into the kitchen. With some special third eye that only comes with the benefit of a dream world, or at this point a nightmare, he found it. A small wall calendar, the picture as vivid with colors as it was blurred. October 2020. Subconscious dream Jisung forced a pen to come into view and circle a particular day. A Sunday. Towards the bottom of the page. And then a female voice rang out.

“Happy birthday, Minho! Did Jisung wake up ye…Minho? What’s wro…oh my God!”

“I’m here, jagiya. Shhh…”

Jisung blinked a few times to clear the sun and tears away. Minho was holding him similarly to how Jisung just saw him from above, so there must have been some movement in the transition from his nightmare to him waking up. He let himself stay in Minho’s embrace while he tried to gain his equilibrium.

“Sorry.” Jisung tried to slow his breathing down. “Bad dream.”

“I could tell.” Minho gave Jisung a kiss on the forehead and readjusted on the bed. “You kept saying ‘I don’t want to die.’”

He hid his face in Minho’s shoulder to not give his secret away. “The news has been scary lately.”

“Yeah.”

A loud noise went off, like the emergency sound when there was bad weather, and Jisung almost fell out of Minho’s arms and off the bed. They noticed it was coming from the bedside table where their phones sat. Refusing to let Jisung go, Minho dipped him back so he could remove his phone from the charger and see why it went off. Other phones sounded through the thin walls of the dorms as Jisung tapped the touch screen to see what was going on.

Holy shit. Jisung was truly cursed. Or he was a modern prophet. He wasn’t sure which was worse.

“Governor Kemp declares Covid-19 an emergency.” He read aloud. “Lockdowns start Monday.”

Minho tilted his head in confusion, his long eyelashes naturally glittering in the sun streaming through the sheer curtains they put up at the beginning of the semester to keep the light out, but kept falling down. “Lockdown? What does that mean?”

“It means staying in place.” The realization was slowly starting to set in. His dream was going to come true. Barren sidewalks and a deserted quad. Happening here and not somewhere far away. “Not going anywhere. But I don’t know what that means for us. For school. For the rest of the semester.” Jisung nearly fell again when the phone rang in his hand. Minho giggled as he answered the call from his mom. The pieces were falling into place so fast.

“Hello?...Yeah, Minho and I just saw…” Minho rotated Jisung so he was sitting with his back against the wall, feet dangling cutely off the bed, resting his hand on Jisung’s thigh. “I don’t know what they mean by a lockdo…Oh?” Jisung gave Minho a worried look, but he hadn’t stopped looking at Jisung since he woke up. “I really don’t want to intrude. You’ve always been…” Sensing Jisung’s discomfort, Minho snuggled next to him and waited for what was next. “Okay. Yeah. I’ll talk to Minho and see what he wants to do…I love you, too. Bye.”

Minho placed a kiss under Jisung’s jaw, and Jisung put an arm around his shoulder in response to pull him close. “What is it?”

“So…” Jisung let go of the breath he was holding. “Campus shuts down on Monday, apparently, and mom is offering us a place to stay until things open up again, I guess.”

“Shut down?”

“Yeah.” It was odd. Jisung didn’t understand how it would work, but he knew from his dream what would happen. How to explain that to Minho without telling him about Jisung’s fate was completely different. “Or you could go back to Korea. Before flying gets more dangerous.” Jisung shook his head in disbelief. He only knew flying was an issue because he saw it. Or, his dream self saw it. Or maybe he heard it somewhere in passing on the news. “Wait it out with your family and Chan and Changbin and…”

“I’m not leaving you.”

The Korean startled him. Jisung was so accustomed to Minho speaking English that he knew it was an instinctual response. Using his first language to make sure he was understood. “I…” Jisung shifted them on the twin bed they shared since the first night so he could be understood too. The map full of holes with spikes hovering above the country flashed across Jisung’s vision. “I have a feeling this is going to get really bad. And American culture is…it’s selfish. It’s not like what you’re used to at home.”

Minho lifted his hands and used his thumbs to swipe away the tears Jisung didn’t know were falling once again. “You are my home. If I go, you go. If you stay, I stay.”

“Marry me, then.” Jisung regretted the words as soon as they left his lips, despite Minho reacting with his cute confused blinks and cat-like stare. “Sorry, I don’t want to lose you.”

But he would. Or Minho would lose him. On his birthday of all days. Jisung stared at the ceiling, face still in Minho’s hands, hoping his expression wouldn’t give him away. He had to tell Minho. Had to tell him now. He could excuse not telling him before, but this truly was life or death. He can’t make Minho agree to marry him when he would be a widow by the end of the calendar year. Jisung didn’t even want to know if there was a term for a widowed fiancé, or if that even was a thing.

Or maybe it was just called losing the love of your life. If Minho even saw Jisung the same way he saw Minho.

“Okay.” Minho forced Jisung to look at him. “Yes. I will marry you.”

“Hyung, you don’t have to.” What a fool Jisung was for asking. What a fool Minho was to accept. Jisung is only going to break his heart. “You don’t…”

Minho pushed himself forward to meet their lips in an intense kiss. He meant it. Oh God, he meant it. “I love you.” He whispered, barely separating from the lips he was obsessed with. “Marry me, Jisungie.”

Jisung could see the shimmer in his eyes. Tears of joy. If he only knew. “We probably wouldn’t be safe here. If we got married.”

“California?”

“What do you know about California?” Jisung chuckled and kissed Minho again, feeling him smile beneath the pressure of their lips gently pushing and pulling against each other.

“Famous people.” Minho shifted his lips to kiss Jisung’s left cheek. “But you didn’t answer me.” Then the other cheek, lingering there. “Please, Jisungie.” Then a kiss on his forehead. ”Make me a happy man.” Finally a tiny peck on the bridge of his nose before looking deep into Jisung’s eyes. Eyes full of love. Clueless as to what he was agreeing to. “Marry me.”

“Okay.” Jisung nodded, bumping their heads together with another shared laugh. “Yes.”

Minho smiled and kissed Jisung like he never wanted to stop.

Jisung cried and kissed Minho like he would never have another chance.

5 months, 22 days ago

Finals are finally over!

That’s what Jisung and Minho and their friends back in Korea would say if the world hadn’t gone crazy. Getting adjusted to classes online was hard enough, much less coping with a worldwide pandemic. Minho had been frequently talking to Chan and Changbin, swapping stories about how the two countries were handling everything. Minho was shocked at the differences.

Jisung? Not so much.

Being in South Korea changed Jisung. It wasn’t just because of Minho, though. It was growing an appreciation of how people could work together instead of constantly competing to be the best. A deep, embedded sense of collectivism and caring for others. Had he known that wearing masks was okay with them before his nightmare, perhaps he wouldn’t have been so selfish to make Minho travel back with him. But alas, they were here now, and a decision needed to be made. Living together was great. It was so soft and sweet and domestic, and Minho hadn’t tired of Jisung yet. But maybe he would. If he stayed, maybe the light would blind Jisung once more, and his nightmare would reverse and devastate him instead.

“Hyung, can we talk?”

It was on one of their walks. The only dates they could have. Driving to a park, walking around a lake, or on a hiking trail. This particular day, they chose to stroll in the morning, before the late spring day transitioned into a bone dry summer one. Making sure to keep their distance from others who were trying to walk around too. Socially distanced about six feet apart. About two meters, he converted for Minho. They saw extroverts who were going stir crazy with their lack of regular in-person social interactions, as the introverts gleefully enjoyed their time away from the crazies who never shut up. Jisung’s anxiety was a taut rubber band, pulling from his heart and through the top of his head and the aching muscles in his legs from lack of use. They would talk, and it would return to normal, and then it would stretch through him again. But the biggest, darkest secret never came out. Just a support on the slingshot to shoot out less relevant fears.

“Sure.” Minho reached out to grab Jisung’s hand. “Wassup, Jisungie?”

Jisung chuckled. They had recently gone down a Youtube rabbit hole of old American memes from TV commercials. “So finals are over. Officially.”

“Yep.”

“You were, um…” Jisung looked up and away from Minho at a tree. The sun lit the growing leaves between dots of clouds in the sky. “You were supposed to go home. After this semester.”

Minho let out a sad hum of agreement. “Yeah.”

“Back when things weren’t…”

It wasn’t safe. At least not in the grand ol’ United States. Particularly the south where it became woke to wear masks and stay safe, for some reason. Part of why the vast differences between his home country and South Korea were at the forefront of Jisung’s mind. That and the almost one-hundred thousand death gap between them. Well, not quite. But it would be there soon enough.

“Scary. I think about too. If I should go home.”

He should go home. Should forget Jisung ever existed so his heart could stay whole. “Well, you’re welcome to stay.” Jisung wanted that more than anything. Mostly. “But being safe in your home country. Somewhere familiar with your friends? Might be better? I don’t know…”

“You come with?” Jisung tried to keep his reaction to himself, about how that would be a worse idea, but he squeezed Minho’s hand too hard as a tell. “No?”

“I don’t trust going to the airport.”

Although Jisung was hiding his imminent death from Minho, that much was true. Jisung had thought of the option of fleeing to South Korea until America made some goddamn sense. But that risked getting sick and dying earlier, and also deserting his friends and family here. There’s no telling how long it would take for things to get back to “normal.” But keeping Minho here would keep him away from his friends and family too. That was Jisung’s fault, he guessed, for not saying something sooner about his visions of dark clouds over Asia. Ignoring them in favor of being obsessed with touch after missing it for so long.

“I not too?” They turned and looked at each other simultaneously, almost knocking their noses with how physically close they were to one another. ”I don’t trust it either.”

A twinkle in Minho’s eyes focused on Jisung, staring into his soul, waiting for an English translation. “‘Me neither’ is how you’d say that.”

Another hum. A tiny nod and smile. “Me neither.”

“So, what do we do?”

They kept walking as the silence grew longer. As if by fate, their path took them under a canopy from the trees on either side. Not only were they protected from outside influences, but they had time to process the decision in their own world, as they always did. On two different continents, on opposite sides of the world, they were together, but apart from others at the same time. Changbin called it a talent. Jeongin would smile and roll his eyes. Chan told them to get a room, even though he never roomed with either of them. But those days were past them, at least for the near future. Who knows when it would be safe enough to see their friends again.

“I stay.” He squeezed Jisung’s hand. “I love you.”

“Okay.” Jisung nodded solemnly. “We’ll wait it out and see what happens.”

He let go and threw his arm around Jisung’s shoulder to pull him close and kiss his temple. “Together.”

“Of course.” He steadied himself with an arm around his fiance’s waist. “Together.”

No more needed to be said. Minho would stay until things got better. Comfort Jisung through his final months, and then bury him and head back to Korea to escape. Just like his dad did over a decade ago. Heartbroken and wanting a fresh start. As the canopy started to thin, nature’s gentle light circled them. Protected them, at least for now, from what was to come.

2 months, 27 days ago

Jisung listened to the thunderstorm roll through long after dinner had finished. When he initially suggested Minho stay for one semester, he didn’t imagine he would still be here in the summer. Well, part of him suspected something might go wrong, but the magnitude was worse than he even dreamt about all those months ago.

He thought that he could show Minho around Koreatown, and the different places he and his dad would visit growing up. At least at the beginning of the semester there was the opportunity, but they were busy with schoolwork. How silly they were to prioritize such a pursuit when the world would shut down so quickly, yet so slowly. Infections, deaths, large gatherings leading to infections and deaths, protests against police brutality starting in Minnesota and spreading across the world. It all played out like his nightmare showed. Nowhere was safe, so they went nowhere.

Sprawled like a starfish towards every corner of the mattress night after night, Minho would join him in different ways. Sometimes he would sit on the floor next to the bed and look lovingly in Jisung’s direction. Other nights he would sit at Jisung’s side and read a book or scroll on his phone. Tonight, he rested his head on Jisung’s chest and clung to his side like the world’s strongest magnet. With the calming sound of the rain hitting the window, Jisung felt relaxed enough to start babbling nonsense. Well, what Minho might consider nonsense, but what was very real to him.

“Are you afraid of dying?”

“Hmm…” Jisung felt Minho’s head turn to look up at him. “I don’t think so.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” He readjusted to squeeze Jisung tightly. ”Habits of a three-year-old last until the age of 80. You stay same until you die.”

Jisung glanced at the window before fixing his stare on the ceiling. Each drop of rain could be one more hour or day on Earth. “What then?”

“Then you die.”

Minho spoke the words so simply. He was always straightforward, which Jisung greatly appreciated when his mind was constantly freaking out. It was the perfect moment to let him down gently. That Minho would live on without him sooner than he might think. But the words got stuck in his throat. Got swept up in the passing storm and the distant rumbles of thunder rolling away on a sweltering summer night. He let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding, and Minho’s soft laughter filled the room when his head bounced from the sudden quick breaths.

The spell was broken.
Another chance was missed.

“And then we die.”

1 month, 13 days ago

For many, it was just another weekend.

For Jisung, it was the weekend before his 20th birthday.

Georgia State decided to stay remote for second semester after other state schools had hundreds of students testing positive. This was good and bad. It was good because he was less likely to catch covid, and thus prolonging his life. At least until next month. It was bad because that meant he spent more time with Minho. The most they did together outside of the house was take walks at different parks. Each walk was considered a date, and each conversation and activity was one more memory they shared that Minho would remember once Jisung was gone.

Jisung talked with Seungmin and Felix about it last week on a group call. He told them. He saw the death counter go up every day in Georgia by dozens, and next to nothing in South Korea. The cruel twist of fate that he wouldn’t even make it to see Minho’s next birthday as a couple. Jisung knew Minho was the one. Knew Minho was his person in this life and any others that might have existed. But they hadn’t even been official for one year. It hurt Jisung to know that he would hurt Minho and leave him alone. Deserted after a whirlwind romance. And yet…

You have to tell him, Seungmin and Felix told him. Don’t lose him just because you’re scared.

The advice from Jisung’s friends was zipping through his mind when Minho found him in the guest bedroom. It was where he spent almost every morning after breakfast. Despite his petite frame, he always found a way to take up the entire queen size mattress. Today was different. He was curled on his side on top of the duvet. One pillow was tight in his arms, and the other was barely keeping his head from falling onto the mattress.

“Hi Jisungie.” Minho lowered himself gently next to Jisung, using his softest voice. “Can I help?”

“Don’t hate me.” He lifted the pillow in his arms and hid his face behind it.

Minho leaned over and kissed the part of his head that wasn’t hidden, staying by the shell of his right ear. “Jagiya, I can’t hate you.”

“I’ve been hiding something from you.” Jisung looked up, eyes and nose red from the on-and-off crying he had done that morning. “Something big.”

“Okay…”

“Something where,” One large shuddering breath escaped him as he stared over the pillow that smelled like Minho, thinking about how it all could end as quickly as it began. “If you wanted to go back home. To Korea. Or just, not be here with me. You could go by Felix. Or I could. Whatever you feel more comfortable with.”

“Jisungie…”

Minho took hold of the pillow, wiggling it back and forth out of Jisung’s arms, and put himself in its place. He hooked his left leg over the still huddled body, now quivering from being so overwhelmed. Jisung rolled onto his back, trapping Minho’s left hand over his heart with his right. He reveled in Minho’s physical affection before coming out with the secret that might repulse him.

“So…” Jisung looked down at Minho, relieved that his inquisitive stare wasn’t on him. “I know…well, I’m pretty sure I can predict…” He wrapped his other arm around Minho’s shoulders and pulled him close so he wouldn’t leave. “This is going to sound awful. But I’m not a bad person. For keeping this from you. Or maybe I am.”

“Jisung.” Minho propped himself up on his elbow to see Jisung instantly turn away from him. “I love you. Whatever you, we can work on it together.”

“But we might not be together for much longer. That’s why I’m a bad person.”

“I no understand.” Minho moved his hand to Jisung’s cheek so they could look at one another. “Why are you a bad person?”

Jisung tried to keep his eyes closed, but couldn’t help but peek to see Minho be so openly vulnerable. He desperately focused on Minho’s thumb softly brushing over his lips. “You know when I proposed to you?”

“Of course.” The shine in his eyes was akin to the light he saw in his nightmare. “It was the best day of my life.”

Jisung’s chest deflated. He knew he was a bad person for sure now. “Well, I had another reason for asking.”

“Why?” Minho started to worry, his breath becoming shallow.

“Because I didn’t want you to leave me.” Minho started to respond, but Jisung put a hand over his mouth. “Before I died.” Minho’s look shifted to being confused. “Ever since I was a kid, I had overwhelming reactions when people close to me were about to die. My mom when I was born. My aunt when I was 3. My dad in middle school. I closed everyone out except Seungmin and Felix. Going to Korea was my chance to let people in. To start over. Maybe even fall in love.” Jisung’s hands slid into Minho’s hair, fingers threading deeply and latching on. “That morning, when I proposed, I finally had a dream about myself. Bright. Overwhelming. A date seared inside my mind.”

“What day?” Minho whispered in disbelief.

“Your birthday.” Minho thought Jisung would start crying, but an eerie demeanor of acceptance took over. He briefly closed his eyes with a deep exhale. “I should have given you more time. To decide. If you want to go home. Where it’s safer than here. Where you can…find someone else to make you happy. To give you what I can’t.”

Minho was skeptical, but stunned by the fact that Jisung hid this from him for months. Being pushed away hurt him, especially after agreeing to stay in America when South Korea was the safer country to live in. “I don’t want anyone else, jagi.”

“But I’ll be gone soon. You deserve someone who will be by your side forever.” Jisung looked determined. He settled his hands on Minho’s neck, thumbs brushing his jaw. “Or at least longer than a month.”

“You could be wrong.”

“But I haven’t been. That’s why I’m scared. That’s why I’m trying to protect you from getting…”

Minho cut him off, staring into the eyes of the man he was enamored with from the first time they met. “That’s not your choice.” He shook his head in frustration like he often did when the words couldn’t come to him in English. ”You don’t get to decide that for me. If I want to be by your side on your last day, that’s my choice.”

Jisung pulled Minho into a brief kiss filled with urgency. He looked at Minho, trying to keep his emotions out of it, but only saw fondness and determination in return. He couldn’t believe Minho would stay. Would attend his funeral. If funerals were even happening right now.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Minho responded, as if he read Jisung’s mind.

“Till death do us part?” Jisung asked hesitantly.

Minho nodded, sealing his decision with a kiss full of undying love. “Till death do us part.”

3 weeks, 3 days ago

today is the first of october. i am almost done. i am less than one month away from dying. i’m going to school online, but i’m not trying that hard. what’s the point of trying to get a good grade when i’m not going to finish the semester. i close the door to the room we share with my laptop and try to pay attention. with the teachers getting used to zoom classes for a full semester, it’s hard. i try. that’s the least i owe minho in my time left.

fiance. minho my finace. i’m a horrible person, hiding my terror from him. he still trusts me. still loves me. is still here after so many have died. over 100,000 died of covid by the end of may. just in this country. not including everywhere else. no wonder i felt so much dread when i thought about 2020. i will soon be one more. it’s not like i go outside much. only on our walks. he says the georgia heat is like korean monsoon season. i don’t know how accurate that is. if it is true, monsoon season sucks. i hold his hand and pretend we’re a normal couple. but i’m a burden to him. i know i am. i hide my research on funeral costs. whether a coffin or ashes would be better. so i don’t have to worry anyone anymore. so i don’t kill anymore people. everyone would be safe then.

i’m surprised he hasn’t noticed. maybe he has though. he holds me tighter, keeps his hand in my hair a little longer, traces his fingers over my waist a little slower while we’re cuddling. i could be making it up though. he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. and i’m not giving him the same respect and trust back. maybe heaven is out of the cards for me. if it exists.

look, i’m scared. i’m really fucking scared. my anxiety is at an eleven. all the time. sometimes i spend my “class time” breathing. relaxing my shrugged shoulders. massaging and loosening my tense jaw. trying not to think of the end. trying to get that picture out of my head of him screaming over my dead body. literally.

some part of me knows that being by myself is unproductive. that having nothing to do makes it worse. but i don’t know. i’m in too deep now. i don’t know how to make it go away other than talking to him about my feelings. maybe i’m not mature enough for a relationship if i can’t be honest with him. but we’re here. i love him. he loves me. this judgmental, selfish bullshit country doesn’t want us to be together. but we want to be with each other.

no matter how flawed i am, that’s what i’m holding onto. with everything i have, i’m trying to hold on. just make it to october 25. that’s the mantra in my head. just make it to his birthday. and if everything goes right, we can live our lives together until death actually tears us apart. there is no one else i’d rather be with. if we broke up, i’d stay single forever. i’ve trusted him with my heart, my soul, my body. i love him so much it hurts. it hurts me to think that i’m leaving him alone. that we were foolish enough to pursue something that ended so soon. but love does silly things, you know? i’m so scared. really. every day is getting scarier. but i just need to hold on.

hold on, jisung. just a few more weeks. you’re going to make it there. at least make it there. then things can only get better because you’ll be alive and with the person you love. and then you owe him a gigantic apology for being a self-suffering asshat. but make it there first. october 25. the last sunday of the month. the day you circled months ago. maybe it wasn’t supposed to be bad. maybe it will be the first day of a new beginning. i hope so. i really, really hope so.

lee minho, if somehow you ever see this, please forgive your silly irrational husband lee jisungie for believing something so sincerely that it hurt you. i didn’t mean to do it. i hope we’re still together, happily married, and we can laugh about how silly this all was.

until then, i will make it to your birthday for you. i can’t make it there for me anymore. i’m too scared. too anxious. my judgment is too cloudy and caught up in the lie. but i can do it for the man i love and adore and will never be able to thank enough for not leaving me.

till death do us part. of natural causes. when we’re both old and grey and hopefully still as madly in love with each other as the day we met in busan. the day i opened my heart to make friends again after being alone for so long. i will never regret it. i will never regret you.

i just need to hold on. and then we’ll move forward in this crazy new world together. hopefully forever. because if it’s not us, i don’t want it. i would rather die alone than lose you. i hope you feel the same way too.

2 hours ago

For many in the suburbs of Atlanta, Georgia, it was just another Saturday night.

For Jisung, it was the eve of his death.

“Han Jisung. Talk to me.”

“No.”

Jisung was lying on his back on their shared bed. He was so far away from Minho that he was on the verge of falling on the floor. Bundled tightly in multiple blankets, he stared at the ceiling, fighting the urge to fall asleep. Minho watched him doze off, only to startle himself awake and glance in Minho’s direction to make sure he was still there.

He respected Jisung’s need for space.
Back when it was 6pm.
But now it’s getting ridiculous.

“You want your last word to be no?”

The restless silence in the room was broken with soft giggles. “That’s not funny, Min.”

“You right.” Minho looked to his right to see his fiancé cosplaying as a burrito and had to keep from laughing even more. “It not funny.”

Jisung pouted, blinking hard to keep himself from falling asleep. “Then why are you laughing?”

“Because you’re cute.”

“Oh.”

“Jagi-ah. My pretty Jisungie. Jisungie the burrito.” Minho tried his best to wrap his arms around where Jisung actually was in the pile, burrowing his nose where he thought Jisung’s shoulder might be. “The tastiest burrito in Georgia.”

“Minho…”

“The tastiest burrito in North America.”

Jisung’s determination to stay depressed about his death was slowly breaking. Minho’s pronunciation of ‘boh-ree-toh’ was too adorable. “Hyung, c’mon…”

“The tastiest burrito,” Minho gave up and pulled every fabric he could grab to his side of the bed, causing Jisung to effortlessly slide across the sheets and let out a short scream laugh in surprise, “in United States.”

“It’s the other way around!”

“The burrito speaks!” Minho buried his nose into Jisung’s hair, his head fully out of the pile of blankets, forcing him to stay close and not scamper away.

“North America is all of the countries.” Jisung laughed uncontrollably at the absurdity of it all. That this would be his last conversation ever with his most true love. “The U.S. is just one country with lots of states.”

“A geography lesson before you die!”

“I don’t want to die!”

”I won’t let you die, Jisungie.”

Jisung’s laugh switched from frantic to one loud grumpy exhale. “But you can’t stop it.”

”Fine,” Minho squeezed him tighter, finally finding enough of him through the blankets to force him to be the little spoon. Their bodies melded together in the effortless way they always did despite the fabric between them. ”I’ll hold you so tightly you’ll die. I will kill you with love!”

”That’s an okay way to die, actually.”

“Jisung. Stop.”

The lack of nickname shook Jisung out of his stupor. He knew Minho believed that Jisung believed in his nightmare, but always thought that Minho himself dismissed it as nonsense. This was the first time in any of their talks about his death that Minho sounded worried. Like he thought he might wake up tomorrow for his birthday and not have Jisung next to him. Or at least a living and breathing Jisung.

One year ago, they slow danced in a practice room in Busan. A world away from here. A literally different world without worrying about germs and social distancing and hundreds of thousands of actual deaths worldwide. Back when they each loved each other without wanting to admit it. Back before their whirlwind romance brought Minho a foreign country in the name of love. A country that trapped him because of their incompetence and valuing independence over looking out for others. A love that ensnared him only to let him down. In only one year.

“Hyung?” Jisung was getting tired. He was losing the fight to live. He was exhausted. He wanted to sleep.

“That’s me!”

Jisung yawned and let the silence stretch torturously long. “Hold me. While I fall asleep.”

Minho was confused since he had his arms and legs around where he thought Jisung was in his cute tiny human ball. “I thought I was.”

“Properly.” The blankets were keeping Jisung from the only place he wanted to be in his last moments. He hit Minho’s hand from beneath the blanket where it was resting on his stomach. “Without these.”

“Ohh…”

After peeling back each layer, Minho finally found his fiancé beneath the literal, and quite impressive, shield he created for himself. Shield, cocoon, burrito. Whatever you want to call it, Minho roughly pulled the thin frame into his body and tucked them back in tightly. He wanted Jisung to feel the pressure and weight of Minho’s body behind him so if he died, he knew he wouldn’t die alone. If Jisung was right, as he said he had always been, Minho wanted the darkness to go through hell to take his love away.

“I love you, Jisungie.”

Jisung yawned again. ”I love you, hyung.”

“Go to sleep.” Jisung could feel himself relaxing under Minho’s touch. This beautiful angel willing to stay with him. Trying to guard him from the inevitable. “Till death do us part, okay?” Jisung’s chest shuddered as his tears fell, but Minho didn’t let go. Minho’s forehead was in Jisung’s hair, and maybe the quick puffs of air on the back of his neck meant Minho was trying to be strong too. “I’m here. We talk tomorrow. Trust me.”

“And if I don’t wake up?”

Minho was silent. He wasn’t sure if words in English or Korean could give Jisung a good answer to that question. ”I will be grateful that you chose to love me. You chose me. I chose you. And if you die, I won’t regret a single moment we spent together.”

Jisung didn’t catch all of what he said, but he heard the word ‘love.’ “You’ll still love me?”

“I still love you.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Jisungie.” Part of his hair was wet from Minho’s tears. “It’s okay.”

“But it’s not.” His arms and legs were so trapped that the build up of tears and snot sat frozen on his face. “I’m leaving you alone.”

“But you won’t be alone.” Jisung yawned yet again, and Minho put his hand over Jisung’s rapidly beating heart. “You’re not dying alone. I won’t let you.”

“Okay.” Jisung barely nodded and gasped for air. “Good night.”

“Good night, Jisungie. See you tomorrow.”

Maybe he’d wake up. Maybe he wouldn’t. But he wouldn’t die alone and unloved like he had feared.

With a deep sense of acceptance, and a soft peck on his cheek, Jisung closed his eyes and fell asleep in the arms of his first and last love.

Chapter Text

Today

The next time Jisung opened his eyes, the room was pitch black. Often, people talk about seeing a bright light, as he had seen often with his visions and premonitions. Perhaps he wasn’t as good of a person as he thought he was if he missed out on heaven. Hell was associated with red, but maybe it was actually black. The only sins he committed was knowing when people would die, and making Minho depressed once he lived out the nightmare scenario Jisung saw months ago. The day Georgia decided to take Covid seriously. Before the hundreds of thousands of deaths Jisung saw coming.

Minho. His arms weren’t wrapped around Jisung’s waist like they normally were.

But also, Jisung was awake.

He dug his fingers into the sheets to make sure there was something tactile he could ground himself with. The folds on the mattress and the blanket tucked around him both crinkled under his touch. Okay. He ran his fingers on the top of the blanket to lead them towards his cheek, where they pinched it. Hard.

“Oww!” He chastised himself.

Wait. He made sounds.
Can you talk in the afterlife? He guessed so.
But someone else was making sounds?

Jisung heard a familiar grumble in front of him. The grumble of a loving partner who doesn’t like being woken up. He stilled in disbelief. Looking through the earthly definition of darkness, he saw Minho leaning against the wall, sitting upright, head slowly straightening from where it was slumped to his left side. His brown eyes had a cat-like stare, paying attention to no one else but him. A smile spread across his face. Jisung closed his eyes and opened them.

Yep, Minho was still there.

“Morning, jagi.” The love was still in his eyes. For him, it was just another day.

“You’re up…I mean, you’re awake.” Minho hummed and gave Jisung a curt nod. “Why didn’t you stay with me?”

“I want to be,” He paused, looking for the right words. “First one you see when you wake up.”

Jisung wanted to be absolutely sure he made it. “What day is it?”

“My birthday!” Minho crawled to Jisung’s side and gave him a soft kiss. “Happy birthday to me.” The familiar melody from one year ago rang out again in a different room, in a different world, but with the same affectionate tone. “Happy birthday to me. Jisungie is alive…eee.” Jisung grinned when Minho quickly tried to rhyme the words, hopefully returning the same loving look back. “Happy birthday to,” Minho kissed the tip of Jisung’s nose with a loud, exaggerated smack and pulled back with the largest grin Jisung had ever seen. “Me.”

Jisung studied his fiancé closely, still not quite believing he was alive. “I’m an idiot.”

“Yeah.” Minho nodded.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I still love you.”

Jisung wiggled himself free of the blankets and sat up. “Me too.” He held his arms out wide. “Happy birthday, jagi-ah.”

Minho stood up and hooked his arms under Jisung’s armpits to properly hug him. “Thank you!”

Jisung’s feet briefly kicked in the air before finding the ground and squeezing the life out of Minho. “I’m so sorry if I scared you.”

Minho couldn’t quite breathe properly, but having Jisung in his arms made everything better. “It’s okay.”

“Like, I cannot stress enough that I thought I was going to die.” Minho hummed a random tune, knowing Jisung was about to say a bunch of English words that he probably wouldn’t understand. The important part was that it would make Jisung feel better. “I thought I would never see you again. With how many people I’ve killed. I felt so much existential dread. I saw you cry over my dead body! It was all so real, you know?”

“I know.”

“I thought I was a prophet or something.”

Minho chuckled and buried his nose in Jisung’s hair. “Praise Jisungie!”

“I wasn’t even trying that hard in my classes because I thought I wasn’t going to finish them!”

“Bad Jisungie!”

A cautious knock on the door was followed by a welcome sight. “Happy birthday, Minho! Did Jisung wake up ye…oh, he did! About time sleepyhead!”

Jisung gave Minho a quick peck on the cheek and rushed across the room, flinging himself into the arms of the only mom he’s ever known. “Good morning!”

She gave Minho a curious glance over Jisung’s shoulder. “Morning, Jisung.”

“I love you so much.” Jisung took a deep breath and held her tight. “I’m glad you’re alive.”

Her soft chuckle warmed Jisung’s heart. “Well, I’m glad you’re alive too.” She let him go far too soon and looked back and forth between her unofficial son and his fiancé. “Do you boys want breakfast?”

Jisung nodded as she and Minho talked back and forth about what he wanted for breakfast. He was alive, standing right between them, hearing a conversation about food. A rush of gratitude washed over Jisung as he smiled, trapped in his own world of acknowledging life and being a part of it when he was so sure he wouldn’t. A strong pair of arms wrapped around his shoulders and lips landed on his cheek, forcing Jisung to look to his left. Seeing Minho smile on his birthday instead of cry filled Jisung with so much joy that he closed his eyes to savor the moment.

“Falling asleep again?”

“Nope.” Jisung focused on each touch Minho gave to him freely. A brush on his arm, a chin on his shoulder, that perfect nose nudging his jaw. “Just grateful I’m still here.”

“Me too, Jisungie.” Minho laced his fingers with Jisung and started walking towards the kitchen. “I love you.”

“Till death do us part.” Might as well tell Minho what Jisung hoped for if he woke up today. “As Lee Minho and Lee Jisung.” Minho stopped as Jisung walked past him. A slight tug of his hand made Jisung turn around to see Minho with a look of shock on his face. “I’m sorry.”

Minho’s fast blinks were not his usual cat-like confusion, but instead fighting back tears. He shook his head before pulling Jisung back into his embrace. “I...umm, would that make you happy?”

“That would make me very happy.” Jisung put his ear on Minho’s chest and heard his heart beating hard. “Would that make you happy?”

“That would make me very happy too.”

Jisung heard sniffles from above him and started to panic, but didn’t want to leave the feeling of a warm body holding him. “Don’t cry on your birthday!”

“Happy.” Minho kissed his love’s forehead for reassurance. “Happy cry.”

“Good. We can happy cry together.”

“After food!”

They both laughed and descended the stairs together. As partners. As lovers. As soon-to-be husbands. Both alive and well and healthy and young. In this crazy world of death all around them, and vaccines hopefully on the horizon to slow it down, the gift of life was so precious. And the gift of finding love, and keeping it, in a shut down world was even more rare. By finding both love and life, Jisung knew he was blessed beyond anything he could imagine.

Even rounding the corner, he saw the wall calendar from his dream tucked underneath the cabinets and to the right of the sink. He was surprised he hadn’t noticed it earlier, but his thoughts were elsewhere for months. The picture on the upper half was full of beautiful pink and purple cosmos flowers in full bloom, shining in the sun, the leaves and stems glimmering from a light layer of dew.

In the most inconspicuous way possible, Jisung looked at the lower left corner of where the days were notated by square after square.

It was true that there was a circle on the lowest left square. The last Sunday of October. A logo beneath it crediting the local nature center for all the photos. But the number 25 wasn’t on the upper left hand corner like he saw in his dream, but instead the upper right. The circle his dream self drew, a symbol of his impending death, was instead a balloon. A ‘22’ was written inside it. A string hung from its base to a weight on the ground, which was just an unevenly shaded triangle. A symbol of Minho being part of the family now. A family Minho didn’t know this time last year. A love Jisung didn’t have this time last year…

“Jisungieeeeeeeeee!”

Jisung blinked a few times to see his mom with a worried expression. She was rapidly going in and out of view due to the hand Minho was waving in front of his face. “Oh, sorry. I, umm…”

“It’s okay.” She said gently. “You two can sit down while I make breakfast. How do pudding pancakes sound?”

Minho sat on the chair and plopped Jisung on his lap, holding him like a stuffed animal. “Like the best birthday present after Jisungie waking up!”

The three of them talked and laughed. For them, it was just another day. For Jisung, it was the first day of a new life. A new beginning that he thought wouldn’t happen for many months. He went to sleep alive, and he woke up alive. It sounds like a strange concept, but believing something so sincerely is hard to shake. In Jisung’s mind, for over one decade now, there were truths and facts to life; The grass is green, the sky is blue, and Jisung can predict when people are about to die. But this time it didn’t work. Maybe the rest of the times he predicted death weren’t his fault either…

It was certainly something to ponder in the future, but not today. Not on Minho’s birthday. Not on his fiancé’s birthday. Jisung stayed on his lap and kissed the top of his head in deep appreciation and gratitude, and got a cheeky smile in return. This is where he belonged. Whether in Georgia now, or Busan later, he belonged with Minho.

There was never a doubt. Not from the first day of class. Not from their practice room dance or confession on the beach. Not from their weeks apart and weeks together. Whether on walks or cuddling in the same bed night after night. Every day Jisung thought he was one day closer to his death, Minho was always there. Always smiling. Always supportive. Always…there.

“I made it.” Jisung whispered into his hair. “I made it because of you.”

Minho shook his head. ”We made it through together.” Jisung’s eyes fluttered at how hard that statement hit him. "And we will have many more.”

Many more.

Yeah, Jisung reflected.

Many more.