Chapter Text
[time remaining to choose: 00:04:39]
[time remaining to choose: 00:04:38]
[time remaining to choose: 00:04:37]
sungchan is splayed out on the roof, the cold tiles jutting out and digging into his back. he should have at least brought a sweater or a pillow up here with him so he’d have something to rest his head on. then again, sungchan has never been so insightful.
it stopped raining about an hour ago. it seemed to stop just as suddenly as it started. the rain ceased in a matter of minutes and the darkness swirling overhead gave way to crystal blue skies, the sun peeking out between those dissipating wisps of ominous clouds. the power will likely only be out for a day or two, as wonbin was looking at the news on his phone and there were no reports of outages except for in their neighborhood, which is kind of crazy but he digresses.
the storm really came out of nowhere. it had everyone baffled. it seemed to materialize out of thin air, and sungchan thinks it’s very apt. it just goes to show how unpredictable this simulation-like world truly is. literally anything could happen at any given moment, especially with this whole glitch phenomenon.
and while sungchan doesn’t want to believe that he could ever be important enough to influence the weather under any context, he can’t help but feel responsible in some way. maybe if he hadn’t messed up his side mission the glitch would have never appeared. he should have tried harder.
then again, it was most likely impossible to begin with. wonbin is too guarded to ever trust the other (especially if he thinks he could be potential competition) and eunseok is, well, eunseok. he really was set up for failure on that one.
but he’s not really sure all that matters anymore. the alert is hung in the sky directly above him, separating him from the clouds, and he can do nothing but lay there and watch the seconds tick away, bringing him closer and closer to what could be the end. he doesn’t know what will happen and he’s learned to hope for the best but expect the worst.
wonbin was predictably exhausted after class, perhaps just exhausted in general. after showering, it took him only 20 minutes of laying on sungchan's bed to pass out. sungchan, like the weirdo he is, watched him sleep for awhile. he simply looked far too peaceful for him to justify waking him up.
sungchan contemplated spending the rest of the time doing something productive like studying but figured there wouldn't be much of a point in doing that. if this timer really does signify the end, he wanted to spend his last hours committing the boy's face to memory. he doesn't believe in the afterlife, not really, but in the off chance that his soul is left to drift through time and space, lost to the eternal cold and solar wind, he wants to have something to remember.
[time remaining to choose: 00:02:10]
[time remaining to choose: 00:02:09]
[time remaining to choose: 00:02:08]
just two minutes left. is he ready? does it matter?
he sighs softly, lifting his hands up to his face to rub the itch out of his eyes. he’s seeing spots by the time he drags his hands away. it feels as though time is crawling, on it’s hands and knees, dragging itself through the dirt–dragging sungchan along with it.
[time remaining to choose: 00:00:30]
[time remaining to choose: 00:00:29]
[time remaining to choose: 00:00:28]
he’s already made up his mind. he strongly feels he should have the right not to choose. perhaps that means he failed. perhaps he was a fool to think he could ever succeed in the first place.
how did he ever trick himself into thinking he could make him happy?
love is not happiness. he’s come to realize that. happiness can exist without love, in the absence of love, and while he acknowledges that it can add to it, that’s not what it’s all about.
he can’t go back and revive his grandfather from the dead. he can’t transport himself through time and space back to when wonbin was a child and jerk the steering wheel that drifted when his father fell asleep on his drive home. he can’t convince his mom to stay. he desperately wishes that he could, but he can’t.
he can’t give him something that he doesn’t even know how to give himself.
[time remaining to choose: 00:00:03]
[time remaining to choose: 00:00:02]
[time remaining to choose: 00:00:01]
[time remaining to choose: 00:00:00]
at the end of the day, he can still take solace in knowing that he tried his best, even if it wasn’t enough.
[who will you choose?]
[A: park wonbin]
[B: song eunseok]
“i won’t,” he breathes. “i won’t do it.”
there’s nothing for a few painstaking seconds. he lays there and waits with bated breath. then–
[WARNING: glitch not resolved]
[in order to resolve the issue, a choice must be made]
“didn’t you hear me?” sungchan huffs in disbelief. “i said i’m not going to do it.”
[penalty: reduction of remaining time]
[time limit: 342 days]
[time limit: 300 days]
[time limit: 275 days]
[time limit: 250 days]
sungchan watches as the days are shaved away, dropping from the 200s into the 100s and then even further. 90, 80, 70. he never fooled himself into thinking that a year was a long time. 60, 50, 40. he knows better than anyone that time slips by even quicker once you become aware of it. 30, 20, 10. it feels like forever since he first appeared in this world, but at the same time it feels like just yesterday.
he truly did love shotaro’s book even if it was cruel to the ones who didn’t deserve it. no matter how hard you try some people get left behind. it’s just a fact of life that not everyone gets the happiness they deserve.
[objective: make park wonbin happy]
[time limit: 7 days]
[penalty: death]
it stops there. sungchan releases a shuddering breath.
7 days is all he has left. he supposes he should be grateful that it didn’t end right here, right now, and that he still has some time remaining. it’s finite, barely anything at all, but it’s still something. he can still make the most of it.
he slowly sits up. if all he has is one measly week, he knows he must do everything in his power to make him happy right up until the very end. if he sits here and continues to wallow in his misery, everything he’s worked so hard to achieve will be flushed down the drain (he means, it's going to be flushed down the drain anyway, of that he's sure, and he probably wouldn't feel so strongly about it if he didn't want to make him happy so very badly).
if he’s going to die, he’s going to die knowing that he did everything he could.
sungchan crawls his way back over to the window then clambers inside. he shuts it behind him and wastes no time in climbing down the ladder, shutting the hatch, carefully making his way downstairs. he opens the door to his room and wonbin is still there, sleeping soundlessly atop sungchan’s bed.
he walks over to the bed and settles himself down at the edge. there’s a semi-permanent chill settled into his bones. every blanket in the world couldn’t warm him up. trembling fingers reach out to gingerly brush the hair out of wonbin’s eyes.
he shouldn’t have let it get this far. he’s more than a little bit in love, and all he can think about is how cruel it is–to finally have something beautiful only for it to be ripped right out from between his fingers. he should have known this would happen.
when he said those things in the bar that fateful day, he was properly drunk. he still believes that everyone deserves happiness in life. it’s just that… things like love and happiness… they simply aren’t meant for him.
“wonbin,” he says. the one word is all it takes. the sleeping boy inhales sharply, eyes snapping open as though he’d been startled awake. he blinks up at him owlishly, not really seeing, until the world comes into focus.
“you scared me,” he mumbles, eyes slipping shut once more. he pulls the blanket a little further up his body, nestling his face into the pillow, and it’s terribly cute. sungchan can’t help but smile at him.
“sorry,” he says softly.
wonbin hums. “it’s okay. c’mere.”
sungchan doesn’t need to be told twice. wonbin holds open the blanket for him and he wastes no time in cuddling up underneath it. he sinks into the bed, scooting until he’s positioned right up against the boy. with nothing separating them, wonbin's hands find him almost immediately, threading themselves around his torso and pulling until his face is buried in sungchan’s chest.
“you’re so cold ,” wonbin says, shivering slightly. “why are you so cold?”
“i was just outside,” sungchan explains. he rests his chin atop his head, wrapping him up in his arms.
“why were you outside?”
“why do you ask so many questions?”
wonbin chuckles a bit. “you’re deflecting. i’ll let it slide this time.”
“thank you, oh merciful one,” sungchan says flatly, teasing. “your kindness knows no bounds.”
wonbin giggles again, sweet and soft, and sungchan kind of wants to cry. he remembers thinking about how wonderful a thing it is–to have lived and loved and to know what it’s like to be loved in return. it still is pretty wonderful, and now that he’s nothing more than a boat sailing towards the edge of the world with no way to slow down or stop, all he can think about is how lucky he is to have ever tasted the ambrosia in the first place–regardless of the way it’s melting him from the inside out.
“what day is it?” sungchan asks after a quiet moment.
“uh… wednesday, i think?” wonbin answers.
“i have an idea,” sungchan says suddenly, and wonbin peels himself away from him to be able to look him in the eye.
“should i be worried?”
“no, you should be excited,” he replies matter-of-factly. “i want us to go on a trip this weekend. together. just you and me.”
“a trip?” wonbin echoes. he seems to mull it over for a moment. “hmm… that does sound nice. but where would we go?”
“i don’t know,” he hadn’t gotten that far. “is there somewhere you want to go? jeju island?”
“absolutely not,” wonbin says resolutely. “i can’t stand the ocean.”
oh, sungchan had almost forgotten all about that. he’s horrified of the ocean, and for good reason–but wonbin has never actually told him the reason, so he can’t come out and say that he already knows. that would only amount to more questions that he doesn’t know how to answer.
instead of opening his mouth and saying something stupid, he simply says, “oh… if you don’t mind me asking, why?”
“it’s a long story,” wonbin confesses. “when i was in highschool i went to the beach alone and i fell in the water. i almost drowned. i vowed to never go back.”
“wow, okay–i’m so sorry. that sounds traumatizing. so the beach is out of the question,” sungchan nods as though he understands, because he does. “that doesn’t leave us with many options, though. busan?”
“i’ve been to busan. my grandfather took me when i was younger. it's cool, but nothing special. what about jeonju?”
“jeonju could be fun,” he muses. “but i don’t know how you’d feel about all the tourists.”
“you’re right,” wonbin retracts his arm from around his waist, folding it between them and using his pointer finger to draw little shapes over the center of sungchan’s chest. even through his shirt, his fingers leave his skin tingling wherever they roam. “what about hiking? oh, why don’t we go to seoul? there are plenty of hiking spots near there.”
“that’s a great idea,” he grins. “my dad used to take me hiking all the time. i think we still have our backpacks in the attic.”
“it’s settled, then,” wonbin grins back, eyes crinkling in the corners cutely. “what inspired you to go on a trip all of the sudden?”
“i just want to do something with you before–” he snaps his mouth shut, heart seizing in his chest. he almost said it.
“before what?” wonbin raises a brow at him.
before the world ends. before i die. before i lose you forever.
“before, uh… before winter. it’s going to get really cold soon,” he recovers just in time. wonbin doesn’t appear to think much of it, nodding as though he understands, as if it makes sense. the boy splays his fingers out over sungchan’s heart, feeling the organ thumping underneath.
“your heart is racing,” he observes.
“yeah, well… you have that effect on people,” sungchan says this like it really is that simple, knowing that it’s not. in reality, his heart is racing for a plethora of different reasons, the most prominent of which being fear . pure, unadulterated fear.
it’s all the same to wonbin. he giggles sweetly, hand traveling upwards to gently cup his jaw. his eyes are teeming with unspoken promises, so many words in so many languages that sungchan would never be able to comprehend them all. would it be selfish of him to simply bask in the warmth of those pretty eyes for a little while longer? knowing how it’s going to end doesn’t make him want him any less.
“you look like you want to kiss me,” sungchan teases. wonbin’s cheeks flush a gorgeous rosy pink.
“maybe i do,” wonbin whispers as though this is one of his best kept secrets. something warm swirls in the pit of sungchan’s stomach, that same fuzzy feeling he’s grown to adore so much.
“maybe you should,” he whispers in return, and he’s already inching forward to close that distance.
wonbin meets him halfway. he kisses him slowly, lazily–as if they have all the time in the world. sungchan savors every second of it, dives back in for more when he moves to pull away and kisses him again (and again and again and again ), like he’d die without his mouth on his.
he savors it, because he doesn’t know how many kisses he has left.
⚘
wonbin presses himself up against sungchan, resting his head atop his shoulder as he gazes out the window of the train. hand in hand, healing heart to shattered soul, the world is moving by so fast around them–it flashes by, gone in an instant.
wonbin actually falls asleep at some point, lulled into a comfortable slumber by the slight rocking of the train and sungchan’s sturdy presence next to him. he only notices when wonbin’s fingers loosen around his, his entire body going lax. he thinks about how the other must feel safe around him, enough to be able to feel comfortable falling asleep in public, perhaps without even realizing.
he feels sort of guilty waking him up once they do arrive, and even moreso when the other yawns sleepily, blinking his pretty eyes open and regarding him with the softest expression he has ever seen. he smiles warmly and murmurs, “we’re here already?”
it’s all sungchan can do not to melt into a puddle at his feet. if he didn’t find it to be inherently selfish to confess just how in love he truly is, he would have told him at least a million times by now. in a situation like this, however, where he won’t even remember that he existed at all, what good would that do him, other than to satisfy his ego? besides, isn’t it too soon for that?
as they’re walking out of the station, sungchan has half the mind to wonder what his affection meter looks like right now. it’s been at least a week (maybe two) since he last saw one of those firm indicators of his progress, and with the glitch and everything else going on he’s starting to get a little w–
[calculating affection level…]
[affection level: 58%]
well, that’s convenient. he sees it reflecting back at him in the glass of one of the windows at the station. ask and you shall receive, he supposes. it’s followed up by something that makes his stomach clench uncomfortably.
[objective: make park wonbin happy]
[time limit: 5 days]
[penalty: death]
he looks away almost immediately, turning to find wonbin staring up at him with wide, excited eyes. “come on,” he says. “i’m starving. let’s check in and get something to eat.”
sungchan musters up a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “yeah, sounds good. you ready?”
wonbin doesn’t appear to notice. as he takes hold of sungchan’s hand, loosely threading their fingers together and shoving their conjoined hands down into the pocket of his coat for safe keeping, he says, “as ready as i’ll ever be.”
⚘
[objective: make park wonbin happy]
[time limit: 4 days]
[penalty: death]
it's not something he likes to talk about, not even something he likes to think about, but when sungchan was a boy, he wanted to be an explorer. he wanted to be someone so important that the masses would create a monument and perhaps even a holiday in his honor. he wanted to discover foreign and exotic lands, claim vast oceans and raging seas, stumble upon ancient ruins and islands that no explorer– no person! –had ever laid eyes on.
he wanted to be someone.
his imagination was a wild and rampant thing, much akin to a bird with no cage. in his mind, the world was his for the taking. he used to roam the yard in search of bugs, which he would name and document in his notebook, then set free. he would keep tabs on the trees and the bushes. he would draw maps, highlighting points of interest–i.e ant hills, the small patches where the grass refused to grow, that one place where he and his father buried one of his favorite stuffed animals because one of the button eyes fell off and sungchan thought it was dead.
as he got older, he realized that the world had already been discovered. it’s too late to explore those vast oceans and raging seas. the best he could do was explore his yard, his house, his neighborhood. after awhile it lost its magic, and he gave up on exploring altogether.
he’s had many dreams since then. he wanted to be a magician, a sailor, a pro baseball player, then a professor (just like his dad), until he finally landed on where he is today. even if he did have the opportunity to go back and change the direction of his career, he thinks he’d still want to study sports medicine. being a physical therapist is as rewarding as it is challenging. he gets to meet people from all walks of life and help them learn to live again.
even after doing it for so long, working his ass off to get himself through school and take care of his dad later on, he never learned to hate it. even if the days dragged on, he always looked forward to going to work.
it’s a shame he won’t get to go back–not that he’d even want to at this point. he doesn’t think a life without wonbin or his father is worth living. his career was the one thing he clung to for a long time. it was his only purpose.
he can’t exactly tell wonbin all of this, especially the events that transpired after this very specific point in his life, but it seems harmless to share his once beloved dream. he never wanted to be anything like he wanted to be an explorer. he’s never actually told anyone except his dad, who only knew because he witnessed the whole thing firsthand.
they both woke at dawn, ready to seize the day. not a minute could be wasted. it was so early that he barely remembers taking the bus to get here, which, in reality, only took a little over 15 minutes.
they’ve been walking for the last 2 or 3 hours. sungchan stopped keeping track after the half hour mark, keen to lose himself in the wondrous scenery and wonbin’s company. there aren’t that many people on the trail today, which is a good thing, he thinks. for the most part, it’s just the two of them at the mercy of mother nature.
it’s so nice that he can almost forget about that nagging voice whispering in the back of his mind, reminding him that it’s already too late, jeering at him viciously– what a shame , it says. you were never very good at keeping people around.
wonbin looks like he’s glowing in the morning sun, even all bundled up with a beanie pulled all the way down past his brows. exercise has always looked particularly good on him. sungchan finds it especially hard to focus at certain points, too caught up in staring at him to pay attention to where he’s going. he almost trips more times than he’d care to admit.
they take frequent breaks, as the total hike takes about 4 to 5 hours and they really don't want to get burnt out halfway through. wonbin aptly wanted to see the view from one of the peaks, overlooking the lively city beyond the national park, and therefore he is the one holding the map, which sungchan had printed out yesterday while he was supposed to be in class (he spent the entire period cooped up in the library reading up on the park). he even highlighted the trail they were going to take.
all’s well that ends well, because wonbin is apparently much better at reading maps than he is. he never once lead them astray, and once they reached the highest peak in the entire area (baegundae peak reaches a height of 836 meters, which is, in short, insane) they’re both panting like dogs.
the final stretch of the hike was by far the worst, ramping up in difficulty significantly, and he wanted to give up a few times but wonbin’s determination gave sungchan the strength he needed to push on. neither of them were really aware of what they were getting themselves into. sungchan knew it was going to be hard, but he didn’t think it was going to be that rough.
sungchan’s legs are burning as he strips his backpack and throws himself down onto the ground. his breaths come out uneven and choppy. he really needs to stop skipping his workouts (not that it matters at this point).
but, at the end of the day, it’s all worth it. the granite peak provides the perfect vantage point. from all the way up there they can see literally everything , from the other two main peaks to the city of seoul beyond the boundaries of the vast park. it’s truly breathtaking. he’s never seen anything like it.
wonbin immediately pulls out his phone and starts taking pictures while sungchan downs an entire bottle of water. when the boy turns around to face him, he’s grinning so wide that it’s almost blinding, and if the view wasn’t enough to make it all worth it, the look on his face definitely is.
“this is amazing ,” wonbin says, still working to control his breathing. “i’m going to use these photos as a reference for my next painting.”
“i can’t wait to see it,” sungchan replies, all earnest and excited, knowing that he never will.
wonbin stalks over and drops to the ground next to him. he leans back, using his backpack to support him, and extends his legs. eventually, their breathing evens out and the burning in their chests gradually subsides, allowing them to enjoy the spoils of their adventure in relative peace.
“you know,” sungchan begins, misty eyes surveying the world below them. “when i was kid, i used to dream of doing stuff like this. i wanted to be an explorer. isn’t that cheesy?”
“it’s not cheesy,” wonbin sits up a bit, looking over at him as if the real view is sitting right next to him. “that’s actually very sweet. i can totally see that for you.”
sungchan puts on a smile, which ends up coming across more bitter than anything else. “i had this journal where i would write down all my findings. i think i still have it, actually. my dad keeps everything. i’ll show you one day.”
“i’d love to see it,” the other leans over to nudge him with his elbow. “i bet you were the coolest kid.”
“i don’t know about that,” he laughs softly. “what about you, huh? any big dreams when you were little?”
wonbin hums. “i think i’ve always wanted to be an artist. when i was really little, my grandfather used to let me sit on his lap while he painted. i don’t think i’ve ever wanted anything as badly as that. except maybe you.”
“ me ?” sungchan shakes his head in disbelief. his eyes follow a bird careening through the sky. “i don’t see how anyone could want me that badly.”
“you wouldn’t,” wonbin muses. “but it’s true. i was so confused when you wouldn’t kiss me. i thought i gave you every opportunity. it’s kind of silly thinking back on it now, but i genuinely thought there was something wrong with me.”
“if anything there’s something wrong with me,” he confesses. “i guess i just… well, i think too much. that’s what it was.”
“there’s nothing wrong with you, sungchan,” wonbin whispers, all too sincere. there is a beat of silence. then, “i… i wish i knew you as a kid. we could have explored together.”
sungchan finally casts his gaze in his direction. their eyes meet and it’s like nothing’s wrong. it’s just the two of them and the breeze, the sticks and the stones. “i believe we met at just the right time,” he says. “if i didn’t have the experiences i have now, i don’t think i would have been able to love you like i do.”
“what?” wonbin’s eyes widen, flushing all the way down to his neck–and not just from the exercise. it takes sungchan a moment to realize his slip up. once he does his face is glowing as well, mirroring the blush gracing the other’s features. he didn’t mean to say it like that. if he’s being honest, he didn’t mean to say it at all. he was fully intent on taking it with him to his grave.
“that’s not what i meant,” he hurriedly says, trying to salvage what little he has left of his pride.
“... right…” wonbin’s eyes fall to the ground, disappointed. he looks very much like a kicked puppy.
oh , to hell with his pride. there’s no use in lying to himself or wonbin. he suddenly doesn't care if it's too soon, or if it's appropriate, or if it's selfish. “no–i mean–” he instinctively reaches for his hand. there is dirt and sweat smeared all over both of their palms, but he doesn’t let that stop him. “i do,” he breathes. “i do love you.”
wonbin’s eyes flick back up. for perhaps the thousandth time in the entire time they’ve known each other, he searches his eyes, expression apprehensive at first, then steadily developing into something more tender–something shy and hopeful.
“you do?” he whispers.
“of course,” is sungchan’s somewhat breathless reply. “how could i not?”
wonbin’s fingers tighten around his own near imperceptibly. “me, too,” he says, all shy smiles and soft words. “i love you, too.”
⚘
[objective: make park wonbin happy]
[time limit: 3 days]
[penalty: death]
sunday comes far too soon. he wakes up in the morning with a boy in his arms, and he kisses his face relentlessly until he also wakes up. wonbin comes to, giggling and weakly trying to push him away, only to succumb to the onslaught. he lets it happen, and when sungchan kisses him on the mouth, he lets that happen, too.
he really doesn’t want to get used to this, but in a sense he already is.
you see, the thing is, he never fooled himself into thinking they had all the time in the world–but when he wakes up like this, surrounded by him in every sense, it’s almost like time stops. just for them–a cruel illusion of what could be, what almost was.
he thinks that’s what hurts the most.
he feels this even more as they’re cleaning up the hotel room, packing what little they brought and fixing the bed (sungchan reminded him that the staff is just going to remake it anyway but he insisted it was more polite this way–all sungchan could do was chuckle and help him).
sungchan flops himself down at the edge of the bed and wonbin moves to stand before him. he has this devilish grin on his face and sungchan is so in love that he can’t even bring himself to resist when he leans over him, braces his hands on the bed on either side of him, and kisses him fervently, like he’s drowning and sungchan is a breath of fresh air. he leans back until he’s pressed against the mattress. wonbin follows him all the way down, arms caging him in, looming over him as if he is the sun and sungchan is flying too close.
he was wrong. this is what hurts the most.
what a shame, that voice in the back of his mind echoes, over and over and over again. you were never very good at keeping people around.
⚘
wonbin surprisingly stays awake the entire train ride home. they’re quiet for the first 10 to 20 minutes, both of them content to enjoy the world flashing by outside the window and the quiet hum of the train. it’s quite serene. the sun has just begun it’s gradual descent through the sky. the lower it gets, the more orange the sky becomes–like tangerines and sunflowers.
at one point, he looks over at sungchan, a small smile on his face.
“where should we go next?” wonbin asks innocently, eyes glowing.
“hm?” sungchan flicks his gaze over to land on him. “oh, uh… i haven’t thought about it. where do you want to go?”
“well, i was thinking…” his smile widens, as if he’s been waiting for sungchan to ask. “once the new year starts, i’m going to get a job. i want to be able to give your dad something.”
sungchan rests his head back on the seat. “it’s okay if you don’t, you know.”
“i want to,” wonbin dismisses him with a wave of his hand. “besides, i should be able to pull my weight.”
“you seem determined,” sungchan laughs a little bit. “who am i to stand in your way?”
“i’m glad we’re on the same page,” he grins up at him. “anyway, i was thinking we could save up to go somewhere over the summer. wouldn’t that be nice?”
something deep within sungchan’s chest clenches painfully. he almost doesn’t want to entertain this conversation–isn’t it rather cruel of him? they won’t make it to the summer. they won’t even make it to this time next week.
but the way he’s looking at him now, hope and excitement etched into the lines of his face… he knows he must let him dream.
throughout the night, after wonbin fell asleep on his chest, he carefully mulled over his options, of which there aren’t many. he contemplated breaking up with him but quickly realized he wouldn’t be able to bring himself to do it. it’s selfish of him, but he just can’t–he’s being selfish either way. regardless of whether he swallows his love or spits it out, the outcome will be the same.
besides, he already vowed to make him happy right up until the very end. what good would breaking up do him, aside from making both wonbin and himself miserable in their final days. all for what? in the end, it would be as meaningless as his presence has been this entire time.
“yeah,” he breathes. “that does sound nice.”
“right?” wonbin, seemingly delighted by this development, grins impossibly wider. “i’ve never been outside of korea. what if we went somewhere like, i don’t know… paris? even if we can’t get into the louvre, i feel like just seeing it will satisfy me.”
“i’d do anything to get you in there,” sungchan declares. “i’d break down the doors. i’d fight all the guards with nothing but my bare fists.”
wonbin giggles softly. “don’t be silly.”
“i’m serious,” sungchan can’t help but laugh a little bit himself. “if you want to go then i will make sure that happens. nothing will be able to stop me.”
“even if we can't go,” wonbin leans over to rest his head on sungchan's shoulder. “i'd be happy so long as i'm with you.”
⚘
[objective: make park wonbin happy]
[time limit: 2 days]
[penalty: death]
sungchan silently wanders down the hall until he’s stood directly in front of his father’s office. the door is closed, so he presses his ear up against it just to make sure he isn’t in a meeting. when he hears nothing, he softly raps his knuckles against the wooden surface a few times.
“come in!” his father calls from the other side. sungchan slowly opens the door to behold his dad sitting at his desk, laptop open in front of him and a stack of papers next to it.
“are you busy?” he hazards to ask.
“kind of,” his dad perches his elbows atop the desk before folding his hands together and resting his chin atop them. “but i can make time for my boy. what’s up?”
“i was wondering if i could talk to you about something,” sungchan says.
“oh?” his father quirks a brow at him. “come in. have a seat.”
sungchan steps into the room and closes the door behind him. there is a black leather lounge chair sitting by the window. he drags it out a little bit and flops into it, draping his legs over the armrest and slumping into the seat. when he was really little, he used to be able to fall asleep in this chair, content to merely be in the same space as his father. now that he’s an adult, approximately 3 times the size, he doesn’t think it’s possible anymore.
“how was your trip?” the man starts. “did you make it to the peak?”
“yeah,” sungchan offers him a small smile. “it was amazing. wonbin took a lot of pictures. he’ll be more than happy to show you if you ask.”
“i will,” he promises, grinning back. “now, talk to me, my love. what’s bothering you?”
“nothing really…” he lets out a soft sigh. “it might be weird, but… can i… can i ask you something?”
“of course,” he nods.
“let’s just say, hypothetically speaking…” he purses his lips. how should he put this? “well, let’s pretend for a minute that you’re put into another world where everything is alright again… but you don’t have a lot of time… there’s someone you really want to take care of but time is running out faster than you thought. you know you have to make your last days count. what would you do?”
although he looks more confused than anything at first, his dad’s face soon takes on a sort of thoughtful countenance. “hmm… that’s… oddly specific, but in that sort of situation… i think i’d just want to spend as much time with them as possible.”
“how do you…” he whispers tentatively. “i mean, hypothetically speaking… how do you make it hurt less?”
“if it’s going to hurt, then it’s going to hurt,” his dad smiles sadly. “there’s nothing you can do about that.”
sungchan slumps back even further into the chair. “that sucks…”
“yeah, well, sometimes goodbye’s are supposed to hurt,” his dad reaches forward to close his laptop before reassuming what can only be described as his ‘wise dad’ position. “that’s how you know it mattered.”
“did it really, though?” sungchan says–more accurately, the words crawl out of him. he doesn’t know how to stop them, nor does he know how to not make them sound so pathetic. “did it really matter if it’s all going to be lost in the end?”
“of course it did,” he reasons. “it mattered to you, didn’t it?”
“yes,” he says this without a lick of hesitation. “it mattered so much.”
“there’s your answer, sweetheart. as long as you can move on knowing you did your best, no one can take that away from you.”
as cheesy as it is, he kind of has a point. or, at least, sungchan wants to believe he does. he's never feared death, not really–but what if surviving is not all it’s about? what if the thing that gives life significance is actually the experiences you have and the relationships you establish along the way? wouldn't it be nice to be hopeful for once, instead of being so damn pessimistic?
sungchan wishes he could be more like his father. despite his 30+ years of life experience, there are still so many things he doesn't know. he doesn't know how to look back on his life and be grateful for all the things he's learned without feeling jaded by all the ways life has wronged him. in a lot of ways, he's still the freshly sixteen year old boy that his friends scorned in the heat of the moment.
and he can’t help but think…
“what if i didn’t do my best?” he asks, sounding small. “what if it wasn’t enough?”
“i won’t lie to you–you don’t really get to choose whether or not it was enough, but you certainly can decide whether or not you did your best. i trust you know your limits,” his dad smiles at him in a way that makes sungchan think he knows something he doesn’t. “all i know is that my son is not the type of person to do something half-assed. i’ve seen you put your all into everything you’ve done since the day you were born.”
the truth is, he’s not the kid he was when he was 21. he is a shell of the person he once was, that outgoing and optimistic boy who wasn’t so afraid of the world–who wanted to explore it and experience it and love it. he’s seen too much to be able to go back to being that lonely boy. perhaps in a different universe, he might have been able to shake that boy’s hand and tell him that everything is going to be alright, because it is.
it will hurt. and it won’t matter, only it will, because it will matter to him. his dad is right. he did give it his best shot. he doesn’t think there was much more he could have done. he still doesn’t know what shotaro was trying to tell him with all this. perhaps he just wanted to show him that he truly is capable of love? perhaps this was all just some twisted way of teaching him that even wretches like him deserve to be happy (which he knew cognitively but never believed)?
who’s to say?
it’s too late now. the only thing he’s really learned is how to be okay with goodbye’s. he can feel the acceptance settling into his bones, and it’s just as comforting as it is mortifying. he wants to scream and cry and kick his feet but he also wants to lay down in the sand and let the water wash him away. he was so close . he really thought he could taste forever, a future where he was worth something.
and that’s okay. no one will grieve for him. no one will remember him at all, he’s sure of it, and he will no longer be this huge burden to the world. everyone–eunseok, his dad, wonbin –might be able to feel a little bit more whole in his absence. they will be okay.
if he’s going to die, he can take solace in knowing all of this. although his existence could never be significant, it mattered to him, and that is significant enough. if he can die knowing he did his best, then he thinks he’ll be okay, too.
“thanks, dad,” he murmurs. “i want you to know that you’re the best father anyone could possibly ask for. i mean it. you inspire me, and you support me–i am so, so grateful for you.”
his father coos at him, beckoning for him to come closer, and sungchan obliges. he pushes himself up out of his chair and stalks over to the desk. his dad stands, opening his arms wide for him. sungchan steps right into them, allowing himself to bask in the comfort of his father’s warm embrace (for perhaps the last time).
as those strong arms encircle him, he is suddenly sixteen again–riddled with anxiety, at war with himself, desperate for someone ( anyone ) to speak his name with something other than contempt. that paralyzing fear of not being accepted by the man you idolize no longer plagues him. he knows he is loved. he feels it all around him as though it is a second skin. all of the shadows inside of his mind dissolve in the light of his tiny family, just the two of them inside this familiar house. it’s all he ever needed.
“you are my son,” his father whispers into his hair. “i love your mother deeply , even after all these years, but i don’t think i knew what true love was until i held you for the first time. you say i inspire you, but it’s actually quite funny– you inspire me . you are such a brave boy. so strong. so caring. i look at you and feel nothing but pride.”
sungchan squeezes his eyes shut. “thank you,” he chokes, all those overwhelming emotions constricting his throat and bleeding out of his eyes. he doesn’t know what to say. his father is an angel . he doesn’t deserve him, not in the slightest, but instead of voicing this as he normally would, he heaves in a shuddering breath and repeats, “ thank you .”
⚘
“ sungchan .”
there is a hand wrapped around his arm–cold, familiar fingers encircling his bicep, gently shaking him awake. sungchan peels his eyes open, blinking unseeingly up at the boy sitting at the edge of his bed. his heart, which had been still in his chest, begins to stir.
“hey, you,” sungchan mumbles. wonbin’s hand falls away as he stretches his arms up over his head, groaning at the feeling of the ache being worked out of his muscles. he flops his arms back down with a sigh.
“did you not go to class?” wonbin asks, lowly so as not to disturb the quietness of sungchan’s bedroom. before he knows it, the boy’s fingers are reaching to move his hair from his face, his touch feather-light.
“i wasn’t feeling great,” he says, which isn’t exactly a lie. he woke up with a sore throat, eyes stinging as though they’d been doused in salt water, head throbbing. although his headache has mostly subsided, he feels, quite frankly, awful. it’s ironic, that even in his last hours he can’t escape the tendrils of mortal suffering.
not only that, but he’d woken up in the middle of the night to an alert waiting for him just outside of his window, winking back at him through the glass. when he opened his eyes next, at around 6:00AM, it was still there.
[objective: make park wonbin happy]
[time limit: 12:45:24]
[time limit: 12:45:23]
[time limit: 12:45:22]
[penalty: death]
it’s still there now. one glance outside his window tells him that it hasn’t moved, and the timer is still there, too, still flickering and sputtering (like a dying flame), ticking down to his impending doom.
[time limit: 08:33:40]
[time limit: 08:33:39]
[time limit: 08:33:38]
“why didn’t you call me?” wonbin’s lips quirk downwards into a frown. he utilizes the hand that still lingers near his face to check his temperature. the back of his hand is cool against his forehead.
“i didn’t want to bother you while you were in class,” he mumbles.
“don’t be silly,” he chides, hand slipping away from his forehead to caress his jaw. “i want you to bother me. anytime. all the time–i could have brought home some medicine for you.”
“i’m alright,” he does his best to muster up a reassuring smile. “it’s just a sore throat. i’m sure i’ll be okay.”
wonbin clicks his tongue in disapproval. “this won’t do,” he moves to push himself off the bed. “let me go see if we have anything.”
sungchan latches onto his wrist before he can take a single step. “don’t go,” he hurriedly says. “stay with me.”
wonbin seems hesitant at first. “but… if you don’t take something you won’t feel better…”
sungchan honestly couldn’t care less about feeling better. it’s feels much more fitting that he’s suffering in his final moments–not that he necessarily wants that, but he feels it’s what he deserves. if it wasn’t then he wouldn’t have gotten sick in the first place. these are the sort of conclusions he comes to in the early hours of the morning, half delirious and fading in and out of consciousness.
“you can be my medicine,” he tries to tug him back onto the bed and wonbin doesn’t put up much of a fight, though he frowns at him in worry.
“you’re gonna get me sick,” wonbin whispers as he climbs underneath the covers next to him.
“that will never happen,” sungchan slings an arm around his waist, pulling him right up against him. wonbin wiggles a little bit to land himself in a more comfortable position, tucking his head neatly beneath sungchan’s chin. “you’re immune to sore throats. i’m speaking it into existence.”
wonbin laughs softly, shifting so that he could settle the hand that isn’t pinned underneath him at sungchan’s waist in return. “you can’t manifest immunities, sungchan.”
“my dad told me i can do anything. are you calling him a liar?”
“you’re allowed to believe what you want,” he laughs again, just as softly, just as sweetly. sungchan wishes he could take a recording of his laugh with him into whatever dimension he’s doomed to roam. he wants it to be the last thing he hears. “besides, ‘liar’ is such a strong word. i think ‘delusional’ is more appropriate.”
“would it be appropriate if i asked you to shut up?” sungchan says through a smile. wonbin pinches him in the side. it doesn’t hurt, but he’s especially ticklish in that particular area, and therefore he jerks away, a series of shrill giggles ripping out of his burning throat.
“oh?” wonbin pulls back a little bit himself, fixing him with eyes so bright that they could guide a ship to shore in the dead of a foggy night. “looks like someone’s ticklish.”
“do not ,” he threatens (or, more accurately, pleads), but it’s too late–he’s already diving back in for more. sungchan shrieks, shuffling back to escape his relentless fingers until his back hits the wall and he finds himself trapped. cornered, nowhere to run, feeling weak and tired, and taking into account that wonbin is a lot stronger than he looks–it’s extremely hard to fight him off.
he dances his fingers over his sides until sungchan can’t take it anymore. he gathers all the strength left in his body and pushes the other until he rolls onto his back, pinning his hands to the bed, leaving sungchan looming over him. wonbin is still giggling, full toothy smile on display, starry eyes crinkling in the corners cutely. they stay like that for a moment as sungchan tries to catch his breath.
“you’re a demon, aren’t you?” sungchan mumbles, eyes raking over the planes of his glowing face.
“i bet you wouldn’t even know the difference,” wonbin teases, and sungchan is so terribly in love that he can’t bring himself to bite back. his hands flatten over wonbin’s palms, stretching until their fingers slot together, like they were molded for this exact purpose. sungchan’s hands were meant to hold wonbin’s hands and he refuses to believe otherwise.
to his left, he catches a glimpse of another alert out of the corner of his eye, hovering in the center of his room. he doesn’t even bother to look at it. he knows it’s only going to tell him what he’s already painfully aware of: time is running out .
“well?” wonbin breathes, angling his head to the side, eyes glinting with something unspoken–something like love . “aren’t you going to kiss me?”
“i thought you didn’t want to get sick,” sungchan leans in a bit, revelling in how small he feels beneath him, until their faces are mere centimeters apart.
“i don’t,” wonbin’s voice drops to a level just barely above a whisper.
“then i won’t,” sungchan grins, moving to pull himself away, but the other simply won’t stand for it. he immediately rips his hands out of sungchan’s grasp (denoting that if he wanted to escape he could have done so at any moment) and slings his arms around his neck, tugging him back down.
sungchan inhales sharply as he’s so firmly dragged back down, until they are once again exchanging breaths. wonbin still has that infuriating (brilliant, beautiful, breathtaking ) smile on his face.
“did you really think i wou-”
“ seriously , stop talking,” sungchan murmurs before dipping down to capture his mouth with his own. wonbin lets out a little squeak, clearly not expecting to be attacked with such fervor, and sungchan swallows it greedily. his mind goes totally blank. he doesn’t even remember his own name; all he can think about is the way wonbin’s lips move against his own, the way his fingers tangle into his hair– wonbin, wonbin, wonbin .
it’s all-consuming. he kisses him back and kisses him back and it’s so intense that once his mind starts moving again sungchan distantly thinks wonbin would crawl into his chest and live there if he could, just to bring him that much closer.
“i love you,” wonbin breathes in between lavish kisses. “jung sungchan, i love you.”
sungchan breaks away from his mouth, kissing down the line of his jaw, below his ear, down his neck. he’s never wanted something– someone –so badly in his entire life.
to think he could have had this forever. the alert is still there, taunting him, haunting him, and that soul razing heat in the pit of his stomach slowly ebbs away, replaced with a pitiful feeling. he rests his forehead against wonbin’s collarbone, panting softly, flushed all the way down to his neck. he can feel his heart pounding in his face, and for various different reasons.
why is it so painful? hasn’t he already accepted that this is the end? even if he holds on with all his might, he won’t be able to prevent him from slipping away. if only he had more time. his pain wells up behind his eyes until he can hardly see straight. he squeezes his eyes shut. his father’s words from yesterday echo in his mind, bouncing around his skull like a rogue ping pong ball.
“how do you make it hurt less?”
“if it’s going to hurt, then it’s going to hurt.”
if he didn’t believe before, he certainly believes now. after all, it is a truly wonderful thing, to love and be loved. he believes with every fiber of his being that it was worth it. he could have died never knowing what it’s like for a pretty boy to look at him with stars in his eyes, to kiss him, to need him– want him. he doesn’t regret it for even a second. he has no regrets whatsoever.
his tears spill out of his eyes before he can stop them, splashing onto the other’s shirt. it hurts so much–and it matters so much–and he thinks wonbin might actually be an angel sent from heaven.
“are you–” wonbin, who is still struggling to catch his breath, untangles his fingers from his hair before dragging his palms over to rest atop his heated cheeks. he forces him to peel his head away. sungchan blinks down at him with watery eyes. wonbin asks, somewhat bewildered, “why are you crying?”
“i love you,” sungchan says in lieu of answering. “i want you to know that no matter what happens, i love you. the time that i’ve known you has been the best time of my life. i love you, okay?”
how many times does he have to say it before he feels like it’s enough? he was wrong, he does have one regret: he regrets not saying it sooner. if he had time to tell him a thousand times, or even just a hundred times, he might have felt content.
“why are you talking like you’re dying?” wonbin laughs a bit, blissfully unaware.
oh, if only you knew , sungchan’s weary mind supplies.
he leans down to press one last trembling kiss to his lips. this is all he can do. he then leans to flop onto his side, promptly cuddling up beside him and resting his head on his chest. wonbin wraps his arms around him. he’s never been held like this before by anyone (except maybe his father). it feels almost wrong, but also so very right at the same exact time.
“i’m not,” he eventually says. “i’m just letting you know. just in case.”
⚘
[time limit: 00:56:01]
[time limit: 00:56:00]
[time limit: 00:55:59]
sungchan sighs softly. he’s down to the last waning hour. he idly wonders if it’s too late to enter the bargaining phase, because maybe if he begs hard enough he’ll be allowed to stay. he really just skipped right to acceptance, didn’t he?
he doesn’t have anything left to give. he’s spent. his body is drained, achy all over, throat still burning and eyes still stinging. wonbin had comforted him and chatted with him and kissed him until he eventually fell asleep. he’s been snoozing for about an hour now, and sungchan thinks this is probably for the best. he’ll wake up and it will already be over.
sungchan has been lying here next to him soundlessly, looking back and forth between the alert in the center of his room and his lover’s sleeping face.
he probably would’ve fallen asleep himself if he felt that he could. he must admit, it would be rather nice to slip away into the night unknowingly. alas, nothing has ever been that easy for the likes of jung sungchan.
looking back on it all now, it really was the best time of his life. he got his dad back–the father that he mourned so intensely. he got his best friend back. he somehow managed to get his hands on the love of his life, and although it wasn’t easy, it was perfect . if only he had a little more time. he could have gotten that affection meter all the way up to 100%. he could have made him the happiest man alive–there isn’t a doubt in his mind.
and while it may ultimately be true that love is not happiness, it certainly made him happy. he closes his eyes. in the back of his mind he can distantly hear the clock ticking.
he kind of hopes that shotaro comes to him before it all goes black. he’ll probably want to rub it in his face or scorn him or whatever it is that soulless demons do. regardless, he has some pretty strong words saved just for him (not that it really matters–no amount of harsh words will be able to change his fate).
[time limit: 00:30:16]
[time limit: 00:30:15]
[time limit: 00:30:14]
he opens his eyes again. wonbin is still there. the timer is still there. the pain is still there. the minutes melt away right before his eyes.
around the 20 minute mark, the world starts to visibly break apart, shattering and ripping at the seams. it starts from the ceiling then works its way down. the walls look like they're disintegrating, what with the deep cracks that are forming along the top, slowly spreading into long fissures, the drywall crumbling and contorting. sungchan pushes himself up a bit, pressing his back against the wall and pulling his knees up to his chest.
water has started to seep in through the cracks, pushing through the walls, aiding in the degradation. it starts out slowly at first, nothing more than a thin layer pooling on the floor, steadily rising. sungchan can only sit there and watch in horror.
[time limit: 00:10:09]
[time limit: 00:10:08]
[time limit: 00:10:07]
he doesn’t notice at first, but at some point wonbin vanishes into thin air, leaving a dent in the bed where he had once been. it’s only then that sungchan starts crying. there was no telling what would happen when the end finally came, but he didn’t think he’d really have to be alone in his last moments. he took solace in knowing that he’d be by his side when the timer hit zero.
he might have been able to hold him one last time, kiss him one last time. sungchan was a fool to ever think he deserved such comfort. it’s probably for the best, he thinks. wonbin shouldn’t have to drown along with him.
the water has now reached the bed. the walls continue to fall away, leaving gaping holes with nothing but darkness on the other side, and the water pours in faster, harder. it splashes at his feet, flowing up past his ankles, thoroughly drenching the seat of his pants. it rises halfway up his shin before he thinks to stand. he braces his hands against the wall behind him and stretches as high as he can, popping up onto the balls of his feet until he can flatten his palms over the ceiling, both to keep his balance and to prevent it from caving in on him.
by the time it reaches his waist, sungchan is hyperventilating. he’s not scared, he’s not scared, he’s not scared –
[time limit: 00:01:02]
[time limit: 00:01:01]
[time limit: 00:01:00]
oh, god –it’s up to his neck. everything below is completely submerged in the freezing water, an inexplicably familiar feeling, and in that brief minute before the ocean in his room swallows him whole, he thinks he knows what makes it so familiar. he’s been here before, hasn’t he? he gasps in one last breath before being totally enveloped. the walls finally break away, the ceiling crumbling into the water, the shattered remnants of that one place where he once almost felt like he truly belonged sinking into the sea.
all he can see, for miles and miles in every direction, is darkness. if he looks up, he can kind of see the rippling surface. the moon is glinting in the sky overhead. it’s so close, yet so far. he kicks his legs, arms flailing in an attempt to swim up. he’s almost there.
but just before he’s about to break through, a bone-chilling hand wraps around his ankle and yanks him down into the murky depths.