Jack had been one of the lucky ones. Where others had to search half a lifetime for their soulmate, he’d met his on his first day of med school.
As he had walked into his assigned dorm room that day, he’d found a tall, lanky boy holding a heavy looking box in his hands and glance helplessly between the two beds on each side of the room as if he couldn’t decide which one he should claim. Something about him had screamed ‘lost puppy’ to Jack and he had been immediately enamoured. Grinning widely, he’d squished himself past the guy, loudly calling dips on the side opposite of the window for his morning yoga, when suddenly his entire world exploded into a thousand colours. Where once the world was grey, it now was a bright mixture of everything people had tried to describe to him growing up. It was mesmerizing, beautiful, captivating, it was-
THUMP.
A loud crashing sound had made him spin around to the other boy. He was still standing in the middle of the room, mouth open in shock, staring wide eyed at Jack as tears stared to fill his beautiful dark brown eyes and he mumbled out, “Ouch.”
In his shock he’d dropped his box filled with heavy textbooks on his foot, emptying the contents onto the floor around him. There’d been a moment of complete, shocked silence before Jack used his entire football-scholarship level strength to pick his soulmate up and carry him the whole way to the nurse’s office at neck breaking speed. The scene had been the talk of the school for the entire first week, but Jack couldn’t care less as long as he had his pretty blushing soulmate wobbling beside him with his crutches and bandaged foot.
30 years and one leg less later, they’d built a life together. A quiet, sunny apartment with access to a roof terrace, where Jack could do his yoga, and a big comfy couch for Robby’s nightly movie marathons. Despite their very different day-and-night rhythms and more than enough mental health problems, they made it work.
Until the day of the PittFest shooting.
Jack had just finished his shower, when he opened his phone to 20 missed calls and 8 text messages from Robby. It hadn’t even been an hour since they had said their goodbyes, so what could have caused his soulmate to panic like that? Ignoring the messages, he immediately went to call Robby back. The phone didn’t even finish to ring once before Robby picked up, sounding out of breath when he asked, “Did you look at the photo?”
Confused Jack answered, “What photo?”
There was an annoyed groan on the other end and he could practically see his husband massage the bridge of his nose. “The one I sent you! Look at it and describe to me what you see!”
Opening the messaging app, Jack expected to see some bizarre medical anomality. It wouldn’t have been the first time that they had asked each other for a second opinion during the others downtime, but instead of some gross wound, he was looking at - “A flower field?”
“Not that! The colours! What colours do you see?”
“Normal colours?” Robby, what’s going on with you?” He was getting annoyed, maybe it was finally time to get a psych evaluation for his husband?
“Just describe them to me!”
Sighing, Jack turned his attention back to the photo. “Ok, ok. It’s a wide, open field with brown gras, yellow flowers and a blue sky. Everything looks absolutely normal to me. Happy now?”
For a moment everything was silent, then Robby started laughing. A full, hearty and mostly relieved laugh that echoed in the space around him. Jack could do nothing but wait for his husband to regain his composure, but once he did, Jack asked, “Would you mind telling me what this was about?”
“We’re going to have a guest over tonight. Somebody you should meet!” And with that the call ended, leaving Jack standing in their living room with nothing but a towel around his hips and a confused look on his face.
Whatever his husband had planned was ruined by the shooting and the aftermath of it.
Jack was exhausted. His bones ached and his amputated leg had started to chafe painfully a few hours ago. Robby didn’t look much better with his red rimmed eyes, pale face and shaky hand clinging to one of the new Pittlings. The boy had been a surprise addition to their car ride home, but the promise of getting out of his prosthesis outweighed his need to ask questions. Besides the presence of the MS4 – Dennis, as Robby had introduced him – seemed to have a calming effect on the brunette.
Jack had waited for Robby to say something first. They went through their normal evening routine, changed their clothes, ate and sat down in front of the TV with not a single word shared between them. The kid kept stealing nervous glances at him, as if he was waiting for Jack to kick him out of the door any minute now. Still, he remained at Robby’s side as if glued to him. He might as well be, with the way his soulmate kept reaching for him whenever he tried to bring a little distance between them. Mostly followed by another nervous glance thrown at Jack. His skittish behaviour reminded him of the boy he had met in his dorm room that fateful day many, many years ago.
Clearing his throat, Jack sat up straighter in his armchair, throwing an expectant look at Robby. “So?”
He watched as the pretty shade of red on the other’s face deepened, slowly fading into the greying beard of his soulmate. Jack didn’t know what he expected the other to say next. He wasn’t even sure if he really cared, as long as he could drag his old boy into bed for some after trauma cuddling - and that preferably very soon. Instead, he was hit with a request so outrages, it almost made him call Dana to knock some sense into Robby.
“Touch him!”
The expectant look and squared shoulders didn’t show a single hint of joke in the other’s words. Robby actually meant it. Dennis sat beside him, ears bright red and blue eyes darting between them two, like a lost puppy, who wasn’t sure if he was even allowed to sit on the couch.
Considering his words carefully, he threw a worried glance at Dennis before he very slowly said, “…I don’t think I should do that.”
“Ok, then you touch him, Dennis!” There was no hesitance in Robby’s words, as he turned around and for the first time that night, let go of the younger boy’s arm.
Jack hadn’t though it was humanely possible, but the kid turned an even darker shade of red. As cute as he was, this had to stop before HR – or law enforcement – had a case against them.
“Robby, just tell us what’s going on. This is turning into an HR nightmare and I didn’t expect to be the innocent one in that scenario.” The joke was mostly meant to make the MS4 relax a bit, but before it had even really settled in, Robby had already grabbed both their arms with an annoyed groan and pressed their hands together.
For a moment nothing happened, then Jack realised that their flat looked…different? For one, the light-yellow rug he had picked to match their mustard-coloured couch wasn’t yellow anymore. Neither was their couch. In fact, they weren’t even in the same colour family, as one was a bright green and the other a dark red. Honestly, it looked absolutely awful together.
While he was busy criticising his own interior decorating skill, Dennis let out a wet little gasp. His blue eyes swimming with tears, as he sobbed out, “I’ve got two?”
Robby’s grin was so wide as he cupped Dennis’s face and cooed at him, “I told you, didn’t I?”
“Oh, so he gets a forewarning and I have to mentally prepare calling the psych ward?” Jack teased his husband, throwing a playful wink at Dennis. He had a second soulmate. Another puppy to take care of with his old dog of a boyfriend! And what a cute one at that, he thought, as he watched the other blush and burry his head in his husband’s big hands.
An hour later they were all cuddled up in Jack and Robby’s king-sized bed, with Dennis sleeping soundly in their middle, wearing Robby’s old university sweater. Blinking lazily at his husband, he watched him stare at the boy with stars in his eyes. Never one to miss a chance to tease his husband, he whispered, “You know, that shirt is probably older than him, right.”
Synopsis. Every day, Jeno wakes up to the same sounds, the same sunrise, the same gunshots. At first, he thought it was déjà vu. Then he thought it was a curse. Now he knows — it's you. And if you die, the world resets. The problem is… he’s the only one who remembers. He does everything he can to save you, but some days, love isn’t enough.
He worked three different part-time jobs, mostly at night.
He slept during the day, and under no circumstance did he like to be disturbed before 5 p.m.
With the kind of money he made juggling all those shifts, people assumed he’d move out of his cramped one-bedroom apartment and into a nicer, quieter part of town. But not Jeno. He wasn’t about to pay extra for peace when his current neighborhood came with its own kind of… built-in security. Criminals didn’t target this area, mostly because the people living here were the criminals.
Which meant that for the low, low price of sanity and decent sleep, Jeno got to live rent-cheap in a place where chaos kept itself in check.
Until it didn’t.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Gunshots.
Jeno bolts upright in bed like someone yanked his soul back from the afterlife. Three gunshots. He definitely heard gunshots. He stares at the ceiling, pulse racing. For a second, he wonders if he’s dreaming, but no, he’s wide awake and someone just fired three shots above him.
“What the hell?!” he grumbles while rubbing his eyes and peering at the clock on the wall. 10 a.m. His heart still doing parkour inside his chest.
For a second, he just sits there, frozen in place, staring at the ceiling like it's going to bleed. He throws off the blanket, padding to the window like he’s expecting to see a burning building, he throws the window open.
Instead outside, he sees a guy jogging with headphones. A bird lands on a power line. The neighbor’s dog poops on the sidewalk. Calm as anything. Mailman doing his rounds. Wind gently nudging the leaves. A guy across the street doing yoga in a tragic tank top.
Life continues, totally unbothered. He rubs his face, deadpan. “Okay. Either that was real or I’m losing my mind.”
He hears footsteps above. Then laughter.
Jeno storms into the hallway in pajama pants and slides open the window near the stairwell. “Mark!”
A head pokes out from the upstairs balcony. Sunglasses. Shirtless. Holding a literal smoking pistol. “Yo.”
“Did you just shoot your ceiling?” Jeno's attention moving all over the room to find any holes and proof that Mark used that pistol in his hands.
“Not at it. Into it.” Mark grins, and then rolls his eyes when Jeno doesn't budge from the door. “Relax,” Mark says, twirling the pistol like he’s in an old western movie. “Blanks. Keeps the upstairs ghosts humble.”
“There’s no one above you!” Jeno irks, being annoyed that he was awakened because his neighbor Mark was high again.
Mark points at the sky. “That’s what they want you to think.”
Jeno stares, blinking. “You need a therapist.”
Mark shrugs. “Therapist ghost. Same thing.”
Jeno ignores the deluded neighbor and heads back grabbing his blanket on the floor and scrambling underneath it on his bed. Then, right on cue, his phone buzzes on his nightstand. He grunts and ignores his.
But the phone buzzes again. Only his hand gets out to retrieve the phone on the nightstand. Sliding it underneath the covers - with his eyes closed he switches it on and turns the brightness down before he can open his eyes.
Unknown Number. But it’s not unknown. Not really. Jeno knows the name behind it. He always does.
Jeno sighs, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Instead of typing Jeno opts to speak and allows his phone to create text. “This better be a couch and a folding chair. I’m not doing another piano situation.”
Chenle text back: Bro plzzzz - I'm bedridden and sick. Fine $100
Jeno texts back: Sure. Send me the address.
Jeno caves in. He always does… for more money.
So after getting ready in a black buttoned down shirt and black jeans, he heads off to Chenle's workspace - a moving service company. Since he's done this before, Chenle's manager doesn't even bat an eye when Jeno punches in Chenle's locker code. Jeno grabs Chenle's truck keys and contract flip file that the client as well as moving company had to sign.
On the road, Jeno uses his own GPS to navigate and drive through the bright afternoon. The drive is long, the area worth sight seeing. Tall palm trees, fresh grass worth millions on insurance, and houses humongous with so much land for no reason. By the time he arrives to the address that Chenle gave, it's 12 p.m. If he can finish this fast, he can quickly go back home and get in a quick nap.
So he drives up the paved driveway - shows certificate and receipt to the gate man who presses a button and a gate opens allowing Jeno to drive inside -
"It's not gonna work Chenle," Jeno finds himself snorting a little laugh as he thinks of Chenle - and how persistent the dude is to get Jeno to move out of his apartment. Whenever Chenle was 'sick' and asked for Jeno's help it was always to show Jeno that he should consider getting a good house. At first Jeno thought that he was really helping out - until he noticed the trend in houses and spots.
The moving truck rolls to a gentle stop at the edge of a grand, circular driveway, which is wide enough to host a dozen luxury cars and still leave room for a ballroom dance. At its center, a towering fountain commands attention: three angels carved from ivory stone, arms stretched out, pouring streams of crystal-clear water from their urns into a stone ivory basin below. The fountain’s soft, rhythmic splash echoes faintly against the open air, giving the place an eerie kind of serenity.
At the end of the roundabout, a grand staircase leads up to the main entrance, two tall French doors, framed by thick pillars and shaded by the house’s clean, elegant lines. The exterior is a smooth mix of white, soft black, and creamy brown, polished but not flashy.
Everything looks perfectly trimmed, perfectly placed like a house that doesn’t just look expensive, it knows it is.
Jeno parks on the side, not wanting to park near the cherry-red Ferrari that is parked right at the bottom of the staircase, gleaming like it knows it doesn’t belong near moving boxes. And not looking to get in trouble while filling in for Chenle, Jeno parks a distance away.
He gets out the large truck moving to the back opening it up and preparing to fill up the empty storage. He gets the black gloves on, and wonders if he should wear the moving jumpers attire… He decides against it. He just knows and has a feeling he'll be here for a while. Curtesy to Chenle. Jeno climbs up the stairs and knocks three times on the door - before he realizes there's actually a bell.
He presses it and waits. A minute later the door is pulled open, a man with slick black hair and a silk white robe stands before Jeno. "Hi-"
"Ah! You must be Chenle - wasn't expecting you till 3 p.m. in the afternoon, step in." The posh and soft spoken man moves aside, allowing room for Jeno to walk in. He's only 'Chenle' for a few hours. "I'm Jaemin, I called for relocation services. I already got the maids to pack the things you'll be carrying, so you don't have to worry about moving around the house- that's already taken care off. All you'll do is carry the boxes to your truck. I thought they'd be two of you."
Jeno stiffly smiles at the man. "I'm a special kind."
"Hm. Interesting." Jaemin folds his arm with a smile. "You can get started, it should take about an hour and a half. She's got so much shit." Jaemin mutters the last part more to himself. "When you're done, I'm sure the lady of the house will be back, from there you can take her wherever she pleases."
"Who's going to sign the bill of lading?"
"Y/n. The lady of the house. She stepped out early this morning, but she will be back. Don't worry. And if she starts something, complaining or nagging, ignore her and keep working until that truck has all her things."
It's an odd set of sentences, but Jeno doesn't prey on the drama, he simply nods and gets started with the first box when Jaemin walks away. A lady in the typical maid outfit quickly walks ahead of Jeno opening the second door in order for Jeno to have more room.
Jaemin is nowhere in sight after Jeno has lifted up a fair amount of boxes outside. Different shapes and sizes out, Jeno's muscles work hard to secure the boxes in his grip before carefully placing them on the ground outside near his truck. Just when he thinks he's almost done, different bunch of maids walk up and down the stairs, in and out different doors bringing out more boxes. He gets his earphones out and dials down the silence to turn up on the heavy rock music, to give him some energy. Nearly half an hour passes, when Jaemin, in a modest well tailored suit finally leaves the house in his cherry-red Ferrari and drives off.
Jeno finds that he's almost done in the house when there's a large stack of boxes near the truck. Once he's done with the last box he walks out the front door shutting it with the help of a maid. He then heads near the truck and begins the next phase of getting them to fit all inside the wide truck. It's time consuming, but the workout track blasting in his ears, he ignores the ache of his muscles and carries on working.
Not expecting anybody to be outside with him, he gets shocked when he violently gets shoved forward. His upper body budges causing him to hastily remove his earphone - a petite lady in a white knee dress angrily glares at him. You must be the lady of the house. The one Jaemin mentioned. Otherwise with what other authority did you have to push him?
"What the hell are you doing with my stuff?" you shriek.
Jeno picks up another box and places it inside the truck, not wanting to slow down on his fast momentum. "Look lady, I'm just filling in for my friend because he's sick."
"What does that have to do with you moving my things?"
"Somebody named Jaemin rented this truck and asked me to fill it up. By your reaction I'm assuming these are your things." Jeno gets in the truck and begins organizing the stuff.
"Wait." You hold your finger up, burning wholes at him. "Don't move another thing." With that you stomp your way back in your black jaguar and drive just a few seconds to the stairs and park. Jeno from the truck furrows his brows and watches you climb the steps with rage. Once you bang the door shut- Jeno carries on working not minding you as Jaemin previously suggested. He needs to finish so that he can get back home and sleep. It's nearly 3 p.m and he doesn't want to be here any longer.
By the time he's finished loading, managing and securing all the boxes of your belongings in the truck - he removes the gloves dumping them in before locking the back properly. Getting out the contract clipboard Jeno goes back to the house. Pressing the bell, it's not long before a maid opens up the door with a smile. "Can I get a signature from the lady of the house?"
"Oh yes. Follow me." Jeno follows behind the maid, who blabbers on about how Jaemin got you new designer clothes, shoes, bags etc., reasons why he packed up all your old things. Jeno doesn't care, he just wants to get your signature and leave. And from what Jaemin said, Jeno must leave with you so that you can tell him where to go and leave all the boxes.
He waits up the spiraling stair case as instructed. The second floor opens into a gallery-like hallway, bathed in soft, natural light that pours in from the floor-to-ceiling windows. The marble beneath his shoes gleam with a mirror finish, reflecting the chandelier’s scattered gold accents overhead.
But what truly steals the space is the massive clock which is impossible to miss. Mounted against an empty wall at the far end of the hall, it ticks with deliberate grace. Its hands being actual wooden hands, sweeping across over number as if time itself were a luxury only the rich could afford.
Everything is quiet. Too quiet. Like the house is waiting for something. Or someone. It’s not long before you appear that Jeno chants out an appreciation prayer in his head. He already visualizes his head and how he'd sleep. You're gliding around the corner in a long red dress, which hugs your figure well, a silky scarf draped elegantly over your chest and neck. You look like you belong in a painting.
Jeno snaps himself out of it, and quickly holds out the clipboard when you stand a few feet in front of him. "Just need a signature." he says politely.
You fold your arms and shrug. "To be honest with you, I didn't even know that my husband was going to do this. I have no idea where he expects my old stuff to go. Why don't you wait for him in your truck and when he comes he'll direct you."
Jeno's brows furrow. "I'm sorry but I can't wait any longer, I do have another job I have to be in-"
"That's not my problem." you deadpan. "When he was making arrangements with you, I wasn't there. You doing this job is between you and him."
"But it's your stuff in the truck." Jeno stretches his hand back towards the door.
"Then you can wait for my husband," You shrug again. "Or you can take it wherever you want to take it, because I'm not going to sign anything that I wasn't a part of."
Jeno's eyes can only narrow in disbelief. He's actually stunned, and stands there for a while - you turn around telling him he knows where the door is. Grumpily he leaves the house and phone's Chenle.
"Yho dude, can you call your client and tell him his wife is being incorporative?"
"What happened?"
Jeno thought that Chenle was bluffing when he said he was sick, but from the voice over the line that's filled with so much raspy coughs, sickness at it's finest - Jeno knows it's real. He begins to explain the situation from how he arrived early all the way to being told to wait in his car.
"Man, I wish I was there." Chenle snickers weakly. "I live for drama like that. I'll call my boss to speak to the client and then hopefully I'll get back to you with good news."
The good news call doesn't arrive as quick as Jeno had hoped. He watches the maids leave for the evening some passing him adieu. The sun even sets and before Jeno knows it, he's getting a call from his nightshift job.
"Haechan, please cover for me." Jeno grumbles, clearly upset at everything that has happened. "I'm stuck. I don't know for how long."
"Jaehyun isn't coming tonight, so you're off the hook. But you really do have to come in tonight, there's a huge oil spill. We're all stuck on cleaning duty. Please don't leave me to do our section alone."
"I'll try my best to come in as quick as I can."
Jeno cuts the call and then steps out the truck hoping to try again with you, however he thanks the heaven the moment he spots the familiar cherry-red Ferrari pull up. Jaemin rolls the windows down as he gets closer to Jeno, a confused look on his face. "You're still here?"
"I'm finding it hard to get a signature out of the lady of the house-"
"Ay, ay, language." Jaemin furrows his brows. "She's no longer the lady of the house."
"She doesn't want to sign." Jeno refrains from rolling his eyes, but clearly adds why he's still the mansion.
"I'll get her out. Just wait for here." Jaemin ends up saying, his face tightening. "Here, let me sign that for you."
"Thank you." Jeno gets the clipboard handing it to Jaemin. He doesn't even pay attention to how Jaemin's tone dropped when speaking about you and how you're no longer the 'lady of the house'. Jaemin drives up to the stairs, and steps out. The black suit holding him well even under the glaze of the moonlight. He goes around and opens up the passenger door holding his hand out…
Another woman steps out, long hair, short black dress. Jeno can't see the face, but he knows it's an attractive woman, simply because of how Jaemin's eyes glisten with radiance. Jeno's eyes widen unintentionally, knowing he just stepped right into Chenle's favorite drama, a cheating scandal. He shakes his head and goes back to waiting in the truck. He watches how Jaemin enters the house first… and then after a minute, the other woman enters.
Jeno waits. Some minutes go by.
He sighs. Is he really going to be here for another hour? Drumming his fingers against the wheel and taking his phone to call Chenle — he's broken out of his nonchalant thoughts when hearing a faded in cry and argument arising.
His head snaps up - straight to the front French doors. His jaw being parted slightly… by the escalation of voices coming from Jaemin and you- there's a fight going on. You're screaming, yelling and fighting holding onto the door - but Jaemin man-handles you grabbing your hair and clothes pulling you out.
"Oh, no. Not like that man." Jeno steps out the vehicle- yet with a violent push - you're thrown out of the house, and Jeno can only watch being speechless.
You snap on the floor but then paddle on your knees in a breathless moaning mess towards Jaemin's feet, begging and holding his legs. You're panting yelling out nonverbal words- Jaemin throws off a heel shoe into the distance and then kicks you away from him, only for you crawl back and have the door slammed to your face.
"Jaemin!" You yearn out, a pitch reflecting agony as you cry. You bang on the door - "Jaemin please!"
Jeno doesn't move. Too surprised to act.
It's only after a while do you stop beating at the door with your fist, body sinking into a ball, obviously crying. It's embarrassing A few more minutes, you sit up… crawl on your knees, getting down some steps to retrieve your shoe. You look so helpless when trying to wear your shoe, hands shaking, your trembling breath audible for Jeno to hear. His phone vibrates in his hand, indicating an incoming call. Chenle… but Jeno doesn't answer, his eyes move back to you.
"What the hell did they get me into?"
He sucks in his breath, clearly upset, feeling bad to have witnessed such a devasting thing act of cruelty in relationship. His best guess is that the man Jaemin kicked her and all her stuff out of his house, to make room for his new side chick. Jeno never really cares for drama, he always avoided it. But now getting closer to you, Jeno hears your whimpers and little hiccups, he knows he's already involved in this drama. Chenle would need to pay him extra.
You glance up feeling someone approach you. The view of the man and his stupid truck has you shifting uncomfortable as you sniff, trying to wrap the scarf around you, and adjusting your dress to look dignified. Your hair is messy and out of the bun - your clothes look like they had been tugged at, but that's not your concern.
Jeno pauses when he hears you let out a sad chuckle. "That's why he hired a moving truck.." your broken whisper, forces Jeno's words to disappear.
But he regains his composure when you get up, by yourself and sniff, walking down the stairs. The back of his head is itchy, he scratches it following behind you. He tries to help you up in the truck, but you're so stiff and rigid and angry that he can't even approach to help.
He gets in the truck, doesn't say anything when you keep crying lowly and whimpering. Once the engine starts, he's off riding into the night trying to get off the residents area just in case you don't want to be anywhere here. However you don't speak, you don't tell him to turn right or left. When he peeks at you from time to time, you're adjusting yourself to face out the window as you rub your face, wiping your tears, wrapping the red silk scarf around your body.
"Hey look," Jeno starts in a somber tone. "We've been, driving around for an hour. I do have another job which I'm supposed to be at right now, so there's gotta be some place I can take you." he peeks in your direction.
You're a puffy red eye mess with your hair unkempt as you hold onto your chest - Jeno gets blinded by the huge diamond rock ring on your finger. You look at him and chortle sarcastically. "Take me where?" you're breathless. "Take me where? He has alienated me from my entire family. He made me put my dad in a retard home, because…" you wipe your eyes. "Because he didn't fit his Korean chaebol lifestyle dream. I don't even have money in my own account - I didn't bring my phone - he…"
You breathe out again, the tears threatening to spill out. Jeno looks away focusing on the empty road with the streets only lit up lamps or closed LED signs on shops.
"I don't have anywhere else to go." you breakdown.
Jeno sighs. "Okay lady, I'm really sorry to hear about that. But it's the middle of the night and we're riding around in circles-"
"Stop the truck." he doesn't notice how you ball your fists and clutch your jaw.
"I'm not-"
"Just stop the truck!" you yell and glare at him.
Jeno looks baffled. "I'm not stopping the truck-"
"All you men are just alike- you just think of yourself- you don't think about anybody else but yourself-" Jeno shifts uncomfortably as your temper and aggravated cry manifest and you begin hitting him. "Just stop the truck and I'll drive myself!"
He's about to reject - yet you fiercely begin to grab the wheel - causing the car to swerve- and Jeno immediately curses and stops. "Okay - okay I'm stopping,"
"Get out!"
"We're in the middle of nowhere-"
"I don't care- get out of the car and I'll drive myself-" while Jeno tries to open the truck door - you're pushing and punching him to get out.
Jeno can't even react as he gets out and looks at you with disbelief. "You know what, now I see why you're going through what you're going through,"
"Go to hell." You slam the truck door shut. You adjust yourself in the seat and start the car.
"Have a nice life."
"I will. Thank you very much." you let out bitterly, the truck screeches and speeds off. "Fuck." Jeno looks at the clock, it's around 10 p.m.
He turns left and right, but the streets are empty. He brings out his phone ordering a ride. By the time the ride comes, Jeno phones Chenle. "Your crazy client's ex wife-"
"Ex wife?" Chenle sounds like he's leaning in for the tea.
"Yeah he kicked her out the house. Literally." Jeno grumbles. "Man listen, she hijacked your truck."
"Oh no. Jeno please tell me you're lying." there's a bit of a shift in Chenle's voice, for Jeno to realize that he's no longer 'leaning in for tea' but sitting up right being upset. "Jeno please tell me you're gonna get it back? Otherwise that shit's gonna come out of my paycheck for 6 months! I don't have enough money like you-"
"Okay calm down dude, I'm gonna get get. Tomorrow. For now, you owe me big time."
Once Jeno is home, he begins to scramble and put on his uniform before driving himself to work. Unfortunately for him, his boss who arrived moments before gives him his first verbal warning. Jeno works with a clouded head, full of anger, but it fades away when around 4 a.m. he clocks out and heads home. Once his head hits the pillow, he's out cold from the crazy day.
-
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Gunshots again.
Jeno blinks up at the plaster above his bed, groaning into his pillow. "Mark’s doing target practice with the ceiling again," he mutters and drags his body out of bed, and immediately stubs his toe on his desk chair. “Ow! Okay. Good morning to me.”
Jeno storms into the hallway in pajama pants and slides open the window near the stairwell.
"Mark!"
A head pokes out from the upstairs balcony. Sunglasses. Shirtless. Holding a literal smoking pistol. Mark. "Yo."
"Did you just shoot your ceiling again?" Jeno's eyes bleeding with irritation.
“Again?” Mark grins, and then rolls his eyes when Jeno doesn't budge from the door. “Relax,” Mark says, twirling the pistol like he’s in an old western movie. “Blanks. Keeps the upstairs ghosts humble.”
“For the last time, there’s no one above you!” Jeno irks and slams the door going back to his bed.
Then, right on cue, his phone buzzes on his nightstand. He grunts and grabs his phone looking at the text message.
This time instead of replying by text he phones Chenle. "What the hell man? Didn't you already send me on a quest yesterday and I screwed it up? Now you want me to do another?"
"Uhm…" Chenle awkwardly coughs. "What are you on about?"
"Yesterday." Jeno grumbles running his hand through his hair. "I got your truck lost remember?"
"No."
"You nagged that I get it back before it comes out of your paycheck. Remember?"
"Fam, I'm sick and I have no memory of phoning you yesterday, and my truck is still at base." Chenle whines, his voice rising in confusion. "Just say if you wanna help or not- I'll get somebody else to do it."
Jeno pauses for a deep minute. He moves to the window, head tilting when he sees a guy jogging with headphones. A bird lands on a power line. The neighbor’s dog poops on the sidewalk. Calm as anything. Mailman doing his rounds. Wind gently nudging the leaves. A guy across the street doing yoga in a tragic tank top.
Life continues, totally unbothered. He rubs his face, when he looks at his phone and sees the date and time. 23 August…. “Okay. Either that was real or I’m losing my mind.”
"I think you're losing your mind. Or you didn't get enough sleep." Chenle grunts out. "Are you gonna help out or not?"
Rubbing sleep from his eyes, Jeno sighs. "I'm sorry Chenle, just some weird… dream I had. Send the address I'll get ready."
"Thanks Jeno, for that I'll bop it up to $100."
Once the call cuts, Jeno shakes his head, realizing he mixed up the days. Or he could've had a deja Vu dream. He gets ready, and put on a black buttoned shirt and pants. Heads to Chenle's work place and passes by the manager who shakes his head.
Jeno feels a weird sense of deja-vu once he gets in his track and already recognizes the way in which he's going on. It's just like the dream he had. However when he notes that mansion and the security guard all the same - he's left even more perplexed and confused.
"Hi-" Jeno instantly stops after the door is pulled open and a dashing man- no that's Jaemin!
"Ah! You must be Chenle - wasn't expecting you till 3 in the afternoon, step in." Jeno walks in with hesitancy. "You're a little nervous, don't worry. I'm Jaemin, I called for relocation services. I already got the maids to pack the things you'll be carrying, so you don't have to worry about moving around the house- that's already taken care off. All you'll do is carry the boxes to your truck. I thought they'd be two of you."
Jeno stiffly smiles at the man. He did this before… deja-vu. "I'm different."
"Hm. Interesting." Jaemin folds his arm with a smile. "You can get started, it should take about an hour and a half. She's got so much shit." Jaemin mutters the last part more to himself- but Jeno can't wrap his head around how everything feels so familiar. "When you're done, I'm sure the lady of the house will be back, from there you can take her wherever she pleases."
"Who's going to sign the bill of lading?" Jeno asks.
"Y/n. The lady of the house. She stepped out early this morning, but she will be back. Don't worry-" Jaemin keeps talking but Jeno zones out when he hears your name….
"Wait I'm sorry. Did you just say Y/n?"
Jaemin nods. "Yep. Look I'd love to chat, but I've got an important day ahead of me. Keep working until that truck has all her things." Jaemin pats Jeno's back and goes away.
Jeno can only breathe out. Feeling so strange because in his dream… he lived this.
Nonetheless, the work still needs to be done. He works - this time he doesn't put on any earphones, because he anticipates that you'll push him and arrive. No sooner then later, Jaemin drives off. Jeno doesn't remember when you'll come, but he does remember what you do.
To his surprise, he hears a car pulling up behind him. He's sorta freaked when you look the same, angry, and rushing to the boxes. You open one box and take a peak inside before looking at him. "Excuse me, where are you taking my things?"
"Uh-" Jeno's confused that you don't push him… Maybe it's because in his dream he had earphones so he couldn't hear you pull up… Jeno quickly answers sensing that he zoned out. "Jaemin called for relocation services. I'm supposed to pack all these up and-"
"Bullshit. Don't you dare move another box." With that you get back in your car and drive to the stairs. Jeno's surprised that even your car is the same. He doesn't move the boxes as you say and he waits…
Maybe it wasn't deja-vu, and today is a new and fresh day. If he doesn't get these boxes moving, he's going to be late for work in the night.
By the time Jeno finishes packing the boxes, he anticipates whether or not to go inside. After much hesitancy he goes inside the house, and doesn't wait for a maid. Recalling the steps as according to his memory, he goes up the stairs and moves further into a hall -
"Excuse me. How'd you get in?" You're hunched over tying your heels shoelace over your leg.
"Look, I'm done packing the boxes and I just need your signature."
You huff sarcastically. "You're quite rude. Barging in as if you own this place. Get out,"
"I just need this signed and then I'll be out of your hair." Jeno stresses.
You get up, Jeno notices that you don't have the silk red scarf, instead it's on the dresser behind you. You fold your arms, your boobs pressing out. "To be honest with you, I didn't even know that my husband was going to do this. I have no idea where he expects my old stuff to go. Why don't you wait for him in your truck and when he comes he'll direct you."
Jeno's brows furrow- "I'm sorry but I can't wait any longer, I do have another job I have to be in-"
"That's not my problem." you deadpan. "When he was making arrangements with you, I wasn't there. You doing this job is between you and him."
"But it's your stuff in the truck." Jeno adds, recalling the dream.
"You can wait for my husband," You shrug again. "Or you can take it wherever you want to take it, because I'm not going to sign anything that I wasn't a part of."
Jeno tilts his head. "Okay, so I can take these things wherever I want."
"Do what you want." you shrug.
Jeno turns, about to go, until he pauses. "I need a signature though,"
"I'm not signing anything. He called you, he'll sign it." You ignore him and turn around taking a seat. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got an anniversary gift to prepare."
Jeno shakes his head, but leaves nonetheless. If his dream is anything like reality, he doesn't want to be here when Jaemin throws you out the house. He forges a signature and pulls out with the truck, going down the paved path towards the gate with your belongings in the truck.
For some reason, he feels relaxed once the senses of deja Vu happens. He drives out following the road back to Chenle's workspace. He informs the manager that the client lady stated that they can do whatever they want with the contents in the truck.
"Rich people." The manager shakes his head. "Hey Jeno, step in my office real quick."
Jeno internally sighs. All he wants to do is go back home and sleep to prepare for his nightshift. Stepping in the office, Jeno moves towards the manager, who opens up a box.
"I never thought I'd say this, but your constant help with Chenle has really been recognized. Some of our best clients who live uphill, admired your quick and effortless movements," The manager states, as Jeno watches the manager fill up an envelop with money. "It's my understanding, according to Chenle that you work nightshifts, I don't know how much you get paid, but I want you to come work for us."
Jeno's eyes widen when the manager hands him the envelope.
"Don't worry, I'm not firing your friend." The manager laughs. "I'd like for you to work here. Your drive and work ethic, especially with uphill clients is really good."
"Uphill?" Jeno is puzzled but still takes the envelope.
"Oh you know, all those times you filled in for Chenle, you actually went to the rich side of town to do his job. Let's just say the uphill clients, loved that you were broad, focused and fast. They actually like that you're a one man team." The manager taps Jeno's back. "Just think about it. Anyway, the envelope is just an appreciation amount. For all your help. Here's my card, I'll be expecting your call tomorrow."
Jeno takes the card in his hands. "What would the pay be?" One thing about Jeno, he wasn't afraid to talk salary. So after a hafty conversation with the manager, Jeno nods and leaves. Already considering dropping one of the late night shifts he has.
Obviously he'd leave the one where he was paid less, unfortunately that one had a good friend, Haechan.
He goes by to a food court, ordering and enjoying the afternoon. He texts Chenle telling Chenle that he's completed the task, before moving over to texting Haechan and informing his pal that he'll no longer be working there.
Of course that makes Haechan immediately call him. "What do you mean you're dropping The Recycling Factory?"
"I got a better offer. Day job. One that doesn't allow me to sleep through the day and actually enjoy my night sleeps." Jeno speaks.
"Jeno you can't leave." Haechan fakes a cry. "I'll be alone here,"
"I'm sorry man. This job's pay is way better then what I make there at the factory."
After a little banter between Jeno and Haechan, he cuts the call parting on good terms, before calling his boss Jaehyun to inform him of the decision.
For some reason, Jeno feels so relived and relaxed as if something heavy has finally been lifted off his shoulders. "I can finally sleep early and on time."
After a long and heavy relaxing day at the mall, and getting some medication for Chenle and spending some time with Chenle, Jeno is home and plops on the bed. The time, 11 p.m.
He closes his eyes and slowly begins drifting off to sleep with the joy that tomorrow he'll start a new chapter in his life, you pop up in his head for a minute and he wonders if really Jaemin kicked you out the house.
-
Something is wrong. Terribly wrong.
Jeno wakes up with a jolt.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
He knows it's Mark.
Jumping from his bed to the window - he catches sight of the familiar mailman, dog, crop top yoga man- and his eyes are wide open. He also realizes that he's in his pajama pants alone - and that's something he didn't fall asleep with last night. He runs up the stairs going to the balcony finding Mark.
"You shot the bullets!"
Mark who appeared laid back, holds his hands up as soon as Jeno grabs him. "Yo man chill! Chill! It's blanks-"
"I know it's blanks you idiot!" Jeno shoves him back and runs back to his apartment.
Just in time his phone vibrates. Seeing that it's Chenle and he's asking for a moving favour causes Jeno to flung his phone out the window in sheer fear and paranoia. It's Thursday again!
"No-no-no-no" Jeno hurries to get his clothes on driving to Chenle's apartment, which was on the other side of town.
"CHENLE I'M NOT CRAZY!"
Jeno storms inside of Chenle's house - once Chenle weakly opens the door.
"Woah- what's going on?"
"Man something is wrong with me!"
"What? What's wrong?"
"I already lived this day- twice! Today it's repeating itself." Jeno walks back and forth- hands grabbing his hair- Chenle shuts the door and follows Jeno who's talking crazy. "Tell me you also realize that-"
"I don't- I don't realize - I don't know what you're talking about - man I'm-"
"Sick!" Jeno snaps and points to Chenle. "I know you're sick!"
Chenle holds his hands out to Jeno's shoulders. "Okay, thanks for knowing that and informing me. Yho what happened to your phone-" Chenle asks when Jeno shows him the cracked screen.
"That's not important - I threw it out the window but got it back, look at the date!" Jeno grabs Chenle's face - glaring into his eyes. "I already lived this day. I know I did. It's been Thursday three times now!"
"Jeno?"
Jeno breaks into a scary laugh moving away from Chenle, panicking back and forth. "Otherwise I'm insane and the whole world has amnesia!" Jeno shakes his head, scratching his head. Another thing about him, is that he hated routine work. He liked living his life without feeling like it was on loop. Everyday had to be different.
"Jeno you are going crazy. This isn't like you. It's freaking me out man. Chill." Chenle smacks Jeno's chest, looking baffled with the urge to laugh.
"I can't chill. I lived this before!"
"Did you smoke with your neighbor?" Chenle ends up chuckling.
"No! That's the thing - I thought I was crazy - but then it's not a coincidence that this is still Thursday-"
"Maybe it is."
"No! The day before yesterday was Thursday. I woke up to gunshots! You sent a message. I did your job, went to the rich man's house, packed boxes, his wife refusing to sign and I waited outside. He kicked her out, I drove around with her until she hijacked your car. I ended up going to work late and then went home and slept. But YESTERDAY!"
"Jeno calm down-"
"Yesterday I woke up to gunshots again, Mark. You sent your message. I did your job- but this time I didn't wait for the signature from the wife. I took the truck and went back to your work place. Your manager offered me a job and some money-" Jeno's eyes widen just as Chenle freaks out. "Don't worry he wasn't firing you, just wanted me to work there since I impressed the uphill people. I quite one of my late night job. Got you medication, spent some time with you and went back home and slept. But then TODAY! I woke up to gunshots. You sent your message and now I'm here."
There's a whole moment of silence, as Chenle stares at Jeno with his mouth wide open. "Man I'm too weak for this. Is this a prank-"
"I'll punch you in the face - and then you'll see. Tomorrow - or today will repeat itself and you won't remember a thing."
"Jeno you're not gonna- OW!" Chenle drops to the floor after one punch from Jeno. Chenle cowers and tries to protect himself backing away in pain of being punched straight in the face- feeling terrified that Jeno did such a thing. "Are you fucking crazy!?"
"I'm not crazy! I know I sound insane- but i can prove it!" Jeno moves back- not the slightest bit concerned that Chenle is whimpering on the floor. "It's like that saying, fool me once, shame on you. But fool me twice, I punch you-"
"No one fucking says that!" Chenle cries in agony.
Jeno's not listening as a thought pops in his head. "I can prove it. I can prove it. Follow me."
"You hit me and you want me to follow yo-"
"I said get up- get changed and follow me or else I'll punch you again!" Jeno raises his tone - Chenle screams out like a man child, weakly getting up and running to his room.
-
After going to Chenle's workplace - and taking the truck Jeno begins to 'prove' to a grumpy Chenle that he's not crazy. He doesn't even use the GPS. Chenle can't even focus on that, all he's thinking about is that he got punched by his best friend - who's now threatening to beat him up again because apparently Chenle won't remember it tomorrow morning.
"Boy will you get the shock of your life if tomorrow comes and today doesn't repeat itself." Chenle grumbles out. "I will hire someone to kill you."
"Look I'm sorry for hitting you, but I need you to believe me." Jeno emphasizes. "You'll see. There's a fountain outside of there house and a cherry-red ferrari outside-"
"How sure am I that you didn't google maps this?"
"I didn't- just listen! We'll meet the rich man. His name is Jaemin. He'll be in a white robe. And invite us in to start packing the boxes that the maids have already prepared. He'll make snarky comments about his wife and then he'll leave-"
"But that's how it's supposed to be." Chenle states furiously. "They prepare the moving boxes before hand!"
"No listen!" Jeno shakes his head. "This is different. Let's first get through this and then you'll see that I'm not crazy. We're pulling up now, and the driver will ask for documents."
Chenle can only turn his head to Jeno slowly and be baffled by his stupidity. "They have to ask the documents because-"
"Shut up and listen."
Chenle refrains from calling Jeno stupid as he watches Jeno hand the documents and drive in. "Oh look you were right. Fountain and red Ferrari." Chenle mutters out in a matter of fact tone.
"I know you're judging me. But you'll see."
After parking the truck, Chenle and Jeno step out heading up the stairs. Jeno knocks on the door- before Chenle rapidly removes Jeno's hands and presses the door bell.
"I knew that was there-" Jeno comments - causing Chenle to just glare. If looks could kill. Jeno would be dead. "Anyway he's gonna open the door and tell us he wasn't expecting us until 3-"
The door opens up and Jeno abruptly turns silent. His eyes enlarge joyously - but they drop immediately when seeing Jaemin isn't in a robe, but a black suit… the cheating suit.
"Ah! You must be Chenle…" Jaemin's voice fades when looking at the two.
"Sorry I'm Jeno. This is Chenle."
Jaemin tilts his head, having a stare with Jeno. Jeno doesn't even realize it. "You're Jaemin right?"
Jaemin nods still confused… for other reasons.
"I wasn't expecting you…" Jeno gets so happy when Jaemin's about to say the words that - "To come so late. It's after 3."
Jeno's eyes enlarge. "Oh crap. Sorry about that."
Chenle beside Jeno shakes his head. Disappointed.
"Well anyway. Come in. I called for relocation services. I already got the maids to pack the things you'll be carrying, so you don't have to worry about moving around the house- that's already taken care off. All you'll do is carry the boxes to your truck. I'm happy there's two of you."
"Yep." Jeno nods and looks to Chenle. Who still looks so sick, but manages a well and firm glare.
"Hm. Interesting." Jaemin folds his arm with a tight smile. "You can get started, it should take about an hour and a half. She's got so much shit." Jaemin mutters the last part more to himself and Jeno looks to Chenle - as if he predicted those words. "When you're done, I'm sure the lady of the house will be back, from there you can take her wherever she pleases."
"Her name is Y/n right?"
"How did you know what, I never put any of our names on file."
"Oh." Jeno panics, jaw dropping open.
"He's new on the job. Please don't mind him." Chenle butts in with a weak voice, but still maintains professionalism. "Uh so, Mr Jaemin, who's going to sign the bill of lading?"
"Well your psychic friend seems to know." Jaemin motions to Jeno. "But to answer you, my wife. She stepped out early this morning, but she will be back soon. Don't worry. And if she starts something, complaining or nagging, ignore her and keep working until that truck has all her things."
"Yes sir. Will do." Chenle bows.
"If you'll excuse me. I'll be leaving now. I've got plans." And just like that, Jaemin's out the house. Some maids open up the double doors, allowing Chenle to pick up the first and leave. Jeno follows in picking up the box as well.
"Okay, I screwed up. But I do think that it had to do with the time, the past 2 days I came early before 3pm-"
"Fuck Jeno." Chenle grumpily drops the box in the truck. "If you didn't wanna help all you had to do was say so. I wasn't going to force you."
Jeno shakes his head. "Actually you were, you bribed me with $100 so that-"
"You know what, you can leave. It's fine." Chenle walks past Jeno.
"No dude- okay I'm sorry." Jeno snaps back to his senses, realizing his friendship is at stake - and maybe- JUST MAYBE- this was the real world and that if he carried on jinxing things, he'd ruin a good relationship.
So he quietly assists Chenle to bring the boxes outside, while Chenle begins placing them nicely in the truck. Jeno feels bad, because he can hear Chenle breathing heavily and even coughing.
But he can't say much because - your car pulls up. "I hate to do this Chenle but-"
"Save it Jeno." Chenle jumps out the truck. "Let me guess she's the wife who won't sign? Gold star." He walks towards another box and continues to place it in the truck.
Meanwhile, Jeno watches you open one box and take a peak inside before looking at him. "Excuse me, where are you men taking my things?"
"Jaemin called for a relocation services. We're just packing as told."
"Bullshit. Don't you dare move another box." With that you get back in your car and drive to the stairs. Chenle didn't even pay attention to that- even though Jeno's head spirals again. Deja-vu. They continue to work in silence, before finishing up.
This time Chenle takes the clipboard. "Instead of you taking it in, I'll take it in, and come back with her signature."
And Chenle isn't wrong- because moments later Jeno watches Chenle walk back to him happily.
"I got her signature, something you couldn't do for 2 repeat days."
Jeno is downcasted, but gets in the track on the passengers seat as Chenle drives off.
"I have a feeling that you weren't so respectful when you were repeating the days."
"Okay. I fucked up-"
"Save it Jeno. Let's just wait for tomorrow." Chenle mumbles. "If tomorrow comes and I remember being punched, you better kiss your life goodbye. And if it doesn't come. You've got another chance with my good graces."
-
The time is 10 p.m. and Jeno's in some random park laying on the grass. He's ignoring Haechan's calls and avoiding the fact that he's got a shift. He truly believes that he'll wake up and the day will repeat itself. He's so upset with how the events unfolded today. He hit his best friend, got proved wrong multiple times and now he's waiting for chance to repeat this day again, so that he can make it up to Chenle.
"Damn I fucked up badly." He gets up from the ground. Deciding to walk, until he can't anymore. How did the loop even start? Because there's no bone in his body that believes this is a dream. He's never experienced this before in his entire life.
He's pulled out of his thoughts when hearing screeching tires on the road- his eyes catch sight of a rushing and speeding car that jolts up a speed bump and then dangerously swerves into a tree crashing up instantly!
Jeno covers his mouth and lets out a yell! Running to the tree- The car is smoking due the collision of the dangerous accident. "Hey! Are you okay? Help is on the way!" He quickly speed dials an emergency hotline. "Hello! Please locate and track my call! There's been an accident-"
"No problem. Sir please stay on the line."
Jeno gets close enough to the door, being a heroic in trying to get it to open up. It proves to be difficult because it's been rammed shut by the collision. With the cracked windows all the way up- he makes out the hunched over figure. He tries to work fast seeing the burning tires and engine in front- in a matter of minutes it's going to blow up. He goes over to the side door- and thankfully it's not as bad. With brute force he forces the door open - working quick as he sees blood sliding down the person's arm. Not wearing a seatbelt, he's able to pull the person out-
His eyes widen… it's you.
He tries not to pay mind to it as he continues to move you away from the car. You're bleeding badly all over your head, unconscious… he tries to locate his phone but seeing it not on him, he runs to the car to retrieve it only for a huge explosion to erupt from the car. His heartbeat beats fast and watches the burning car. He's never seen such, only in movies… to think that you could've exploded in that car is bizarre for him.
"Ah shit, my phone." He grunts before remembering that 'today' will repeat itself. He picks you up, carrying you in his arms, turning left and right, he can only hope that the ambulance is coming.
-
"Sir."
Jeno hears, but doesn't bother opening his eyes thinking he's not being addressed. Yet when a light hand taps his shoulder continuously he opens his eyes. He immediately shuts it when light swarms through. Grunting, he sits up rubbing on his eyes. The stand falls away from his eyes just as he adjusts himself to his surroundings, until his eyes land on a clock plastered on the wall. Jeno gets up, shock leading him to the wall where the time is.
Something is wrong.
It's 10 a.m. but there's no gunshots. No Mark. No phone call from Chenle… he's not on his bed like all the other times. Not in his apartment to witness the odd morning that Thursday presented itself to be. Surprisingly he's in a hospital and nurse with fitting yet a loose pink uniform has a smile on her face. "Seems like you had a good sleep sir. Sorry to have disturbed, but the patient Y/n wishes to see you." A bright corridor illuminated by the natural light from the landscape windows revealing the outside world.
He turns around, the nurse looking at him. "What day is it today?" Jeno questions instead scratching the side of his head. Noticing some ash over his pants and hands…
"Today, it's Friday." The nurse answers without much hesitancy before placing her hand out towards the open door. "This way," Jeno can only hold onto his chest with his heart beating as fast. He got so used to repeating Thursday that it feels so wrong to be Friday. It should be good, but why only when he's burnt bridges with Chenle, or made himself look like a fool the whole of yesterday. "Sir please hurry, she seemed agitated."
Jeno then nods, approaching the nurse who walks in the room first. In the room the natural lighting from the sky lights up with white room, the brightness serves as a reminder of why he hates hospitals, because despite their bright atmosphere - there's always a loitering reminder of pain. There's no other nurse in the room except the present one who gently holds onto your shoulder. You're hatched up on the bed staring out the window. There's a bandage on over your head, your arms that are visible are in casts that look heavy, Jeno can't see your leg, but by the odd shape of the blanket he knows that you probably also have a cast over your leg. You don't look so good either on your face with smaller bandages over parts of your lips, eyes, cheeks and nose. For now, all that should matter is that you're alive. Your head shifts when the nurse informs you of his presence. Your neck lifts slowly as you turn your head, the unfamiliar man stands in your room and you inhale and exhale.
"Who are you?" you let out weakly, voice hoarse from the accident.
Jeno watches the tears welling up your eyes. He can only guess what happened. If yesterday was just like the other dejavu days, then it means Jaemin your husband probably kicked you out the house and you went on a rampage and perhaps lost control of the wheel resulting in your terrible accident. He moves a bit closer to the bed as instructed by the nurse who ushers him close.
"Do I know you?" you ask another question, confusion sifting through your brain as you try to remember the man in front of you. You can't. However he's got a familiar face… "You're from the moving truck place right?"
"You remember me?" Jeno's eyes widen.
"You… were packing my things in your truck yesterday, weren't you?" Jeno nods, and you shake your head looking away. "Please get out."
The nurse draws closer to Jeno assisting him to leave. "She woke up melancholy, she needs some rest. You're free to wait outside, however if you merely saved her as you stated yesterday in your report, you can leave. We'll try to contact some relatives."
"Okay, I think that's good," Jeno nods, the reality sinking in to him of how real this day feels. No restarts and there's a huge possibility that perhaps he dreamt the whole deja vu think. "I'll leave then." Jeno concludes. The nurse politely bows, heading back in your room leaving Jeno alone on the corridor.
He's already walked down the hall and is about to turn to the staircase- but suddenly stops when hearing a scream! Rapidly he turns his head when hearing a loud metallic clink. "Please calm down ma'am!" he hears the nurse, and it's enough for him to speed walk back towards your room- His eyes widen when standing at the center of the doorway. Somehow you've opened the window wide enough and you're seated on the pane body and head facing the outside world. The nurse is at the center of the room - formulated words leave her lips trying to bring you back in the room but you shake your head.
"Please wait-" Jeno's voice captures your attention. Slowly you turn your head back, your one good eye eyes him down. Jeno sees all the tears you're releasing.
"You shouldn't have saved me."
With that, Jeno as well as the nurse both trudge forward in speed just as you let go and you lose balance falling out of their view. A loud pancake splash is all that echoes- the sound hits their ears - before a loud wave of panic and shout erupts from people outside. Jeno stands over the window eyes wide open watching your body in the white attire slowly spread with fresh red blood. Jeno covers his mouth, not able to take in the sight of your broken body- he can hear the nurse yelling and shouting, other nurses and doctors flood the room, panic washing over. But Jeno shakes his head giving himself one hard slap.
"I'm losing my mind." Another slap, another and another until he can't stop hitting himself and other nurses stop him. He can see them, their words sound muffled in his ears, and just before he knows it. He passes out.
While Jeno passes out and some nurse assists him, another runs out the room accidently bumping into Jaemin-
-
Jeno opens his eyes, holding onto his head grunting out. No gunshots. Rubbing onto his eyes, he sighs out as he looks around the room he's in. A hospital room that's darkened creating a beige atmosphere, most likely due to the night sky and darkened skies that peak out through the halo curtains.
"You're awake."
Eyes jolting to the other person in the room, Jeno's eyes blink several times seeing Chenle. "Dude? You're here,"
"Yeah," Chenle, who's been seated on the guests chair gets up and walks towards Jeno's body on the hospital bed. Jeno manages to sit up on the bed. He's still in his normal clothes, not changed and feels revealed. "They found our business card in your pocket with my number and contacted me. Said you fainted after a tragic accident occurred. What happened?"
A brief silence and thought passes Jeno's mind, just as the image of your splashed body comes to mind, he gasps out and shakes his head. "This is a nightmare. It just has to be." Chenle doesn't prompt on, Jeno already looks shaken up and much more awake then he did seconds ago. Instead Chenle takes a seat on the hospital bed gently patting on Jeno's arm. The slight touch, brings Jeno back to reality and shakes his head. "The lady from yesterday," Jeno speaks, simply wanting to get it out of his chest. Chenle listens without interruption. "She… jumped out the window." Saying it out loud, has Jeno feeling strange. It still doesn't feel real. "Said that… it was a mistake to save her. That I shouldn't have."
"Come on man, it's not your fault," Chenle ends up saying after a moment of silence. "You just happened to save her. Being a good Samaritan, she just… she was just going through her own things and had enough of life."
"This is all crazy," Silence passes through the room, before some time later a nurse walks in smiling telling Jeno that he can be discharged. He doesn't dare to ask about you, or the aftermath. Deciding to just leave it in the past. Besides, he doesn't have to care about it since the deja vu seems to have stopped and also you're gone and he won't have to worry about seeing you again. Chenle offers him a lift home, and Jeno accepts.
"Oh by the way, today is Friday." Chenle speaks when dropping Jeno off in the house with a mischievous smile on his face, as he points to his cheek. "I'm all better and I can still remember the punch."
"Man, I'm really sorry," Jeno says, no energy to fight with Chenle. After the crazy aftermath that this day had to unpack, Jeno easily apologizes, knowing that perhaps he was- he shakes his head, trying not to let himself think about it. "I guess I wasn't feeling awake when I did that…" He just wants to close this crazy week that he's had. From deja vu's to sudden death? Surely not on his bucket list, but now it'll be a core memory. After departing from Chenle's car, Jeno enters into this apartment getting ready for bed. Tomorrow he'd need to find excuses for missing out on his shifts. He scoffs a little thinking how at some point in time during the deja vu's, he got the chance to be promoted into another work space. That would've been awesome.
Shutting the lights, he can't help but stare into the darkness… hearing the screeching sound of some tires- his eyes open up again, remembering the sight of your car driving straight into the tree. His heartbeats fast. The stress of being kicked out of the house must've eaten you alive and just allowed you to spiral. He's convinced now that what you did at the hospital was your attempt of leaving the world - and driving straight towards the tree was probably also your other attempt of leaving the world.
What could've happened in your life for you to just want to end it all and not give it another try? It couldn't just have been Jaemin cheating and leaving you… Jeno ponders on, wondering why only he was able to have those crazy deja vu's… he saved you, but still you ended up killing yourself.
Before his mind drifts off to sleep, he wonders… if by chance, if he had another deja vu repeat day… would he have tried to help you out in a different way?
"I guess I'll never know," Jeno shuts his eyes, sleep taking over him.
A dream manifests itself, nothing uncommon. However he beings hearing voices.
"Remember, so that I don't forgot."
"I love you."
"Don't die."
-
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
Jeno's ears twitch by the sounds of the gunfire as he slowly awakens. His eyes stiffly peel open and stare into nothing. He traces the space around him, his ears trying to hear all that's happening, he exhales before he sits up… Is that Mark again? "When will he stop doing that?" Jeno grunts getting off the bed, he doesn't bother checking on Mark, already having had enough of his neighbor. Jeno yawns out, looking at the time 10 a.m. This might start becoming an everyday thing with Mark trying to 'shoot' the 'ghosts'. Jeno goes straight for the window… his eyes already spotting the tragic tank top of the yoga man, he sees a guy jogging with headphones. A bird lands on a power line. The neighbor’s dog poops on the sidewalk. Calm as anything. Mailman doing his rounds. Wind gently nudging the leaves- all familiar traits. But then freshly on his mind comes… your body, leg twisted to the side, blood pooling around your body and clothes - people shouting and scream. Jeno shuts his eyes. The image too disturbing, and he doesn't want to ruin his day.
He gets back on his bed, trying to get back to sleep so that he can be ready for his night shift.
But then his phone vibrates. Jeno doesn't know why, however the moment his heart actually skips a beat, he holds onto his chest. A terrible feeling rising up… The last he remembers about his phone, is that it got destroyed in the explosion after your car burned up. The whole of yesterday he was at the hospital with no phone… Jeno raises up. His hand finds his phone checking the time and date.
"No, no, no, fuck! NO!" Jeno grabs the pillow throwing it over his head yelling and punching out. He gets off the bed frantically dressing up- but stops. Hands itching to throw a punch at something, anything at all. He holds himself back, trying to breath in and out and calm himself down. This can't be happening. "NOT AGAIN!" He can't help the yell that escapes his throat. "Okay just be normal! Just be normal! Why- why-why?!" Jeno yells out. But he tries to calm down.
Jeno jumps when his phone rings. Must be Chenle. Jeno picks it up quickly. "Chenle? Do you remember me punching you yesterday?" Jeno asks out as his first question.
"What? Punch? Did you have a weird dream?" Chenle coughs, a chuckle leaves his lips, indicating to Jeno that indeed the day has repeated as Chenle doesn't sound upset with him- but sick, like all those other repeat days.
"Dude something is wrong with me." Jeno rubs his temple, his thoughts going all over the place even though he tries to explain to Chenle the situation. "You're not gonna believe me, but I need you to listen to me well Chenle."
"Alright…" Chenle sounds unsure, however he gives his ear.
"I don't know what's going on, but I think I'm cursed."
"Cursed?" Chenle chortles. "How and why?"
"This day, this Thursday, it keeps repeating itself. It has repeated itself like 4 or 5 times now… At first I thought it's a dream, but it's not!- it's vivid and I can remember everything. I've repeated this Thursday 4 times now, and the 5th time which was yesterday- yesterday was Friday- and it was different."
"Okay…" Chenle awkwardly clears his throat. "Um. Let's see. Jeno uh, are you sure about what you're saying?"
"Yes I'm fucking sure! The days keep repeating themselves! And I keep waking up to the same day."
"Do you perhaps know why the days are repeating themselves?"
"No, but I can tell you of the same repeated activities I've had, you sent me to some man's house because you're sick and I witness this couple fighting- okay wait the guy wants to divorce her, but so far I've seen him kick her out once, the other time she's stealing your truck, the other time she gets in a terrible accident and then-" Jeno pauses thinking of you. "Wait, if this day has repeated, that means… she's alive…" Jeno suddenly thinks. Each encounter with you was different… could you…. be the reason to why all of this is happening? His eyes then enlarge slightly… "No way. It can't be."
"Jeno, I'm not following you," Chenle makes his presence known again over the phone call. "I think you slept well. Really well to the point where you dreamt a dream inside of a dream multiple of times. You know what my Chinese family says about deja vu? That's it's a moment that is so important, so so important that your soul refuses to let you forget about it… wait or is it a dream acting as a rehearsal for a moment your life depended on? Or maybe it's because you're stressed and tired," Chenle hums out confused before letting out a sigh. "Anyway, tomato tomato, potato potato, never mind man, what matters is that you slept so well. Anyway, I've got a moving job that I need your help with-"
Chenle goes on to asking the favour for the job, bopping up the price to a 100 and before Jeno knows it, the call has cut and he gets ready for the day. However he can't get what Chenle said out of his head… a dream acting as a rehearsal for a moment that life depended on? What does that even mean? Could this day be repeating for a reason- at that he thinks about you again. Your life has literally been brought back to life. He'll only believe it when he sees you. But what are the odd chances that this day is repeating itself because of you? Many people die, so why only is his day repeating- there must be something else. Something else… Jeno has to figure it out, otherwise these days will become like nightmares for him.
He gets ready, and puts on a black buttoned shirt and pants. Heads to Chenle's work place and passes by the manager who shakes his head. This is all a strong deja vu for Jeno, but he pushes on. The mansion is still the same, and even Jaemin…
"Ah! You must be… Chenle?" Jeno senses the confused stare from Jaemin, but remains calm. Why is he looking at him like that? Jeno clears his throat, allowing Jaemin to be snapped out of his thoughts, he looks at his wrist watch and then faintly chuckles. "I'm sorry, I…" Jaemin motions for Jeno to enter. "Sorry, deja vu. I wasn't expecting you till 3 in the afternoon, step in." Jeno walks in with hesitancy and confusion listening to Jaemin's words. Did Jaemin just say deja vu? Jeno's tempted to ask questions, however Jaemin gets back on track. "I'm Jaemin, I called for relocation services. I already got the maids to pack the things you'll be carrying, so you don't have to worry about moving around the house- that's already taken care off. All you'll do is carry the boxes to your truck. I'm sorry but I thought they'd be two of you."
Jeno stiffly smiles. "Are you okay sir?" Jeno asks instead of replying with the repeated words. If this is deja vu and if what Chenle -said is true… then something in the 'universe' is depending on him not to repeat the same mistakes of yesterday… or rather the day Thursday. This day must be important, and he has to keep in track with everything. Even Jaemin who seems oddly suspicious.
"Okay?" Jaemin looks around and then chuckles. "Yes I am, I'm sorry about that, my head is a bit clouded. You're free to work, I've got an important day ahead of me. I really have to get going."
"No problem." Jeno nods, getting to work. The work still needs to be done. He works - this time he doesn't put on any earphones, because he anticipates that after some time when he's nearly done you'll arrive. No sooner then later, Jaemin drives off even strangely waving to Jeno, before he pauses his car besides Jeno.
"Hey listen, my wife will be back any time, you can let her sign the bill of lading." And just as Jaemin drives off, Jeno carries on working. It's muscle memory at this point as he puts in all the boxes accordingly in the truck- with all the practices he's been having, it seems easier to even finish on time. And but the time your car pulls up, Jeno unintentionally pauses everything he's doing… one because he wants to see if it's really you, and two because he's surprised seeing as he's neatly arranged all the boxes inside the truck… meaning there's no box for you to check.
He doesn't know why, but he feels relief upon seeing you. Alive. Rapidly getting out of your vehicle confused, you rush up to him.
This is it- He's about to meet you for the first time… again.
"Excuse me are those my things? Where are you taking my things?"
Instead of going back and forth with you, Jeno steps forward cautiously, watching you glare him down. You're so angry. But you're very much alive. He's got a feeling, a hunch that for some reason… the day could be restarting again either because of Jaemin… or you. From the looks of it, Jaemin seems he's aware of some kind of deja vu - but you don't. Jeno's mind works like fast cogs as he wonders about your safety and health. He thinks back to Friday - for some reason Thursday didn't repeat itself and went straight to Friday. Could it have been because you were alive? If he wasn't there on Thursday… there could be a chance that you crashed in that tree and died… hence the repeated days for him.
It's a far stretch, but it's the only good thing Jeno has for now. He just doesn't know why he's affected. If this is a 'you and Jaemin' problem, then he shouldn't be involved… perhaps he was involved because he witnessed Jaemin kicking you out-
"Earth to moron?" You snap your fingers fast in his face and shove him back by the shoulder. "Listen here, you better get my stuff out that truck or else-"
A loud gasp leaves your throat as Jeno grabs your arms tightly and calls your name. "Listen here ma'am, I don't know how you're going to take this but your husband is leaving you tonight. He's leaving you for some other woman-"
"Bullshit. Don't you dare move another box." With that you push Jeno back and get back in your car and drive to the stairs. Jeno's surprised that even your car is the same. He doesn't move the boxes as you say, however he waits… and then he just decides to go inside the house. Knocking twice on the door, a servant opens it up and leads him upstairs. Jeno waits, and just like last time you're seen coming out of a specific room. "What are you doing here?"
You're dressed in that familiar red dress that highlights your gorgeous figure, and he can only remember how he last saw you sprawled out on the floor broken and hurt… dead. "I…" Jeno tries to rephrase his words in a way that won't get you to be upset or mad. But it's inevitable. "I know it's none of my business, but I overheard your husband talking to another woman. He told me to pack up all your things and once you arrive that I need to take you where ever you want to go."
You simply stare at him, confused and unable to speak. There's a flash of sadness, and then worry and then confusion. "Su, call the police, call security, call Officer Lee."
"Wait," Jeno shakes his head. "What?" he asks confused. "Your husband wants to throw you out- and you're calling the cops? You should be cutting your loses right now before something bad happens to you?"
"Look here crazy person!" You snap snapping your finger in his face with a hand over your hip. "I don't know you. You're just a stranger, a strange mover telling me my life is a lie. If there's one thing I know about Jaemin, is that he'd never leave me. I'm everything he needs."
"But-"
"Ma'am I've called the police, security and Officer Lee."
Jeno's eyes widen as he shakes his head, trying not to get mad. For some reason he doesn't even fear going to jail - something in him tells him he's going to restart the day. "If you send me to jail, I can't prevent what he'll do to you-" Jeno states.
But you scoff and fold your arms. "Su take down the number plate of his truck and send it to me. Listen here mister, I'll sue you for defamation. You think you can waltz in my house, I'll sue you for unauthorized access in my house, also known as trespassing. You're not getting away with anything, I don't care even if my husband called you, you're going to jail and I'll surely get a civil lawsuit against you as well for taking my belongings without my consent-"
"What the hell- why're you acting like a bitch lawyer? You're husband-"
"I'll let you know that I am a lawyer and anything you say right now will be used against you. Did you just call me a bitch? You could end up in jail for a breach of public peace-"
"Why are you so 'mean' woman?"
"Because you're not being 'nice' man." You firmly state, eyes enraged and Jeno just stares at you in disbelief. He's reminded of the conversation he had with you the first night you were kicked out. You were complicated. He thought you'd be soft since you are potentially dealing with some form of suicidal thoughts- but he's mistaken when he sees the scowl on your face and you type away on your phone mentioning that you will be charging for several things.
Without thinking, Jeno grabs you by your shoulders shaking you once. "You're ruining my life every time you die!" he whisper yells, seething through his teeth. "Why the fuck can't you be cooperative and leave your damn husband? He's the real jerk here, I've seen this before, he kicks you out of his house and then you kill yourself-"
"I'll sue you for harassment- Let me go!"
"Police! Step away from the madam."
"Officer Lee get this lunatic of a man away from me!" You dramatically growl in annoyance once Jeno is getting cuffed up by the police. "I'll be suing him so take him to a holding center. He grabbed me, yelled at me, swore me, moved my things without my consent, trespassed and drove his vehicle unauthorized-"
Jeno tries to refrain the words that want to spill out but he can't help himself- "You know what, now I can see why you're going through what you're going through. You're crazy." He says all this while being forced down the stairs by the Officer Lee.
"Stop talking. You've got every right to remain silence."
You don’t even look at him. You stand on that grand marble staircase, chin tilted high, the image of a woman who believes her life is perfect. You watch them drag the "crazy mover" away with a look of pure disgust.
Outside, there's a few man in black with 'Security' over their shirts, as they scan the truck and begin to unload the contents in the truck. "What the hell?" Jeno grunts as he's stuffed in the car being told of his 'rights'. He rolls head and shuts his eyes. He can't believe that this is happening to him… but for some reason, he feels disassociated with reality - especially knowing that he might wake up to the same day.
"You're in hot waters now pal. Do you know who Y/n is?" Jeno's eyes open when feeling the car move, as well as the lips of the police. "The bulldog face of the largest lawsuit enterprise in the country. You mess with her, you mess with the cruel punishments of the law. Whether you deserved it or not, you've just unleashed the hounds on hell on you. She'll get you in prison." The officer rambles on about your authority and power, and all Jeno can wonder is how on earth he's ever going to go back to his normal life when you don't even want to accept help.
"This is bull." he mumbles.
Jeno spends the next several hours in a cold, dim holding cell. He doesn't pace. He doesn't yell. He just sits on the bench, staring at the concrete floor, counting the seconds. He knows the rhythm of this day now. He knows that while he is sitting here, Jaemin is bringing another woman into that house. He knows that while he is trapped, you are discovering the truth.
At 10:00 PM, the officer taps the bars. "You're lucky. Honestly you are. Na Jaemin dropped the charges on behalf of Y/n. Said he didn't want the paperwork. Get out."
Jeno steps out into the night air. His phone is dead, black screen, no ride, no GPS. He's angry, but he's got no choice but to start walking until he finds a familiar spot. Next time he'll remind himself to bring some money or even food. This day itself is exhausting. He chuckles bitterly being thankful that at least he did something different today instead of following in his regular routine. It's actually been kind of nice not being to work, and worrying about other things then his preocupied and simple life.
He starts walking. The air is thick and humid. He walks past the closed shops and the flickering LED signs, his heart and mood slowly rising up again, feeling better.
But then, he hears it. The silence of the night is shattered by a sickening sound. Tires screeching and then a loud crash on the empty road. His head sharply turns to the sound, behind a building. Jeno sprints toward the sound near the alleyway. He reaches the bend in the road where the old oak tree stands- or rather tilts with a dent in it's arks. The black Jaguar is crumpled against the trunk, steam hissing from the engine. He doesn't call the police this time. He just runs to the door and pulls on it with all his might.
It opens easily. You are slumped over the wheel. There is no explosion this time- just a quiet, devastating stillness. He reaches for your pulse. But it's already clear from your tear-filled face as well as empty cold half open eyes that you're no longer living.
You are gone.
Jeno doesn't cry. He just stares at you… his heart aching and shifting at the sight. Your sassy talk an echo in his mind, as he wonders what pushed you to do this to yourself? He just learnt that you're a lawyer and you're a really great one- so someone with all that power… how could they still crumble and die a pitiful death? Could it really have been because of your husband throwing you outside of the house?
He backs away from the car, his eyes finding it hard to leave your face. The sight is bitter yet sweet… you look like that painting derived from Hamlet, Ophelia, a tragic character… who was struck with madness yet was still innocent.
Jeno ends up taking a seat on the grass next to the wreck, the car blows up and Jeno gets impacted slightly, but he doesn't move. In fact he lays on the ground… your burnt dead body in the car… Staring at the moon until his eyes grow heavy, Jeno stays there all night, a silent sentry for a woman who has died thinking she is 'unloved'. It doesn't help that nobody comes to save you.
Eventually, exhaustion wins and Jeno shuts his eyes.
-
Once Jeno begins dreaming… it's cut short by a voice.
"Remember so that I don't forgot."
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Jeno doesn't bolt upright. He just opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling. It's one thing to restart the day, it's a whole other thing to wake up to gunshoots. Mark.
"One of these days, I'm gonna kill him and wake up to do the same thing over and over again." he grumbles out in annoyance.
And just as he gets up to give Mark a piece of his mind, his mind clicks to reality, to last night… or rather the repeat day. It finally clicks. He isn't looping because of the job or the money. He is looping because of you. The universe won't let him leave Thursday until he figures out how to keep you on this earth. Unlike all the other days, Jeno grabs his phone and types your name. It's a pretty commonly unique name, yet when he adds lawyer right there next to it- the name holds weight and power.
A real female under dog. Parents abandoned you when you were younger but you honed your intelligence like a shield and fought the good fight. Up until you got yourself involved with Jaemin… Thank goodness for the internet, Jeno reads through some headlines and scandals of your 'celebrity like' relationship with Jaemin. Jeno does a double take when realizing that Jaemin is practically famous. A personal doctor in a specialized field.
And then his phone rings.
"Chenle did you know that the person you're about to send me to, Jaemin is a fucking celebrity?"
"Hello to you too?" Chenle coughs, sounding sick but still amused. "Bro, I don't even know who that is," Chenle responds, making Jaemin wonder about how famous Jaemin is- especially if Chenle doesn't know him. "Anyway, uh, I was hoping you could do me a favour-"
"Yeah yeah, add a 100." Jeno adds with boredom and then cuts the call already knowing the morning routine of this whole day. He goes through the motions with the efficiency of a machine. He takes Chenle's job. Meets a 'confused' Jaemin. Packs the boxes. He doesn't try to convince you when you arrive- he knows you won't believe him. Instead, he waits. The time goes by slow, and just when it reaches peak afternoon around 6pm, he watches the servants of the house leave and he takes that as his sign to 'sneak' into the house.
His initial plan was to investigate and get a better chance to know who exactly he's trying to save. Obviously it's you- he has to keep you from dying. But he wants to know more about you, why a bombshell woman like yourself would rather take the high road to death rather then just live through a break up. The house is massive- he avoids going up the stairs because he knows you're there, however downstairs isn't so safe either. Despite the many places to hide, Jeno's heart beats fast every single time he hears your hilled footsteps echoing around. The mansion is surely lived in and doesn't echo silence. You're all over the place making it hard for Jeno to stay in one place. Not being seated, walking up and down, preparing food and decorations, answering calls-
"I know right, I wanted to do something special for him. It's our one year anniversary, and I think he deserves just the best. This morning he gave me a five thousand voucher to go on a crazy shopping spree. And then when I got back home, I found out he also bought me new clothes and threw all my old ones away. Can you believe it? So yeah obviously I have to do something extravegant for him." you laugh into one call. "I've planned the whole trip. We're going to Dubai in a couple of days, and I'm so excited as this will be the first trip alone. Finally we can start acting like a married couple instead of work work work-"
Jeno gathers intel about you. As well as Jaemin. Tonight, on this Thursday- just like all the other Thursday's is your one year annivarsary with Jaemin. You've planned out a surprise for him. You're sweet and thoughtful. Jeno notes. He sneaks up the stairs quickly when you head into the downstairs kitchen. Looking at the gigantic clock on the wall, Jeno ducks when realizing it's almost time for Jaemin to arrive and then just in time-
The front door opens. "Shit." He lays on the ground and shifts until he's behind a wall. He sees Jaemin-
"Why the hell are you still here?" Despite the voice being low, Jeno can hear the irritation clogged in Jaemin's tone. Wow. Already to a heavy start. Jeno notes how this won't be an easy listen.
Jeno can't see you, but he hears you. "Jaemin, please don't start this, let's be good tonight. Happy anniversary honey-"
"I told you I don't want to be with you anymore-"
"And you were angry when you said that. Look, I just want us to be good- just for tonight. Is that so hard?"
"Yes Y/n it is hard." Jaemin's tone cuts through. "And I have something to tell you-"
"No, no words, just touch me, kiss me, do anything else but yell or be grumpy- look I even got you a gift. Happy anniversary-"
Jaemin calls your name sternly as if trying to shut you up. Jeno tries to peak from the wall he's behind, while still being on the floor on his stomach. He makes out Jaemin's figure and you're outstretched hand handing him a tiny black box.
"Aren't you gonna open it?"
But Jaemin calls your name again, yet you place a hand over his lips.
"Jaemin please, I don't want to fight tonight. I saw the clothes in the wardrobe and they look so gorgeous, I mean some of them I need to get them tailored because they're too small, and others aren't my taste nonetheless I love them and I appreciate that you did this-"
Jaemin holds onto your hand as you try to touch his face. He says something that Jeno can't hear, yet when the front door opens and he sees that skimpy lady in the short black dress, Jeno can tell that it's time.
Jaemin starts again. "I need to tell you something-"
But you cut him off. "Jaemin I thought I told you to quit it with this prostitute." Your voice is loud, and Jeno wonders if he shoud even intervene. Especially knowing how this will end. "What is she doing here?"
"I asked her to come." Jaemin responds, stretching his arm back and allowing the skimpy woman to smugly take a hold of his hand and step forward. While the lady seductively walks closer to Jaemin with a smirk on her face, Jeno begins understanding a little bit more of the situation. "There's no easy way to say this, but this one year has taught me that I don't want to be committed to a woman who psycho-analyzes everything I do."
The nerve is struck when the skimpy lady opens her mouth and talks. "Is she wearing the dress I picked out?" Jeno's eyes widen when recalling the words… the clothes belong to this skimpy lady. "Why are you wearing my clothes?"
"Your clothes?" You breath out in shock. "Jaemin, it's our anniversary today, how could you?" You sound upset and even vulnerable.
"Our marriage has run it's course Y/n and I'm tired of you."
"Jaemin." You back away, away from the view of Jeno.
"It's over. I hired some guy and a moving truck to pack all your things and take you anywhere you want to go-"
"What are you trying to say?"
"Why are you acting so surprised? As if this is new? Get it in your head, I don't want this anymore. I think I'm being more than fair when asking for a divorce. Come on, don't act so surprised," Jaemin gives the most disgusted face ever. "I haven't touched you in a year. We haven't spoken in months because you're always busy with work. And oh god- I can't count how many times I've had to cancel dinner reservations because you had to work overtime. I haven't been happy in this marriage."
"Jaemin, honey, don't say shit like this. Don't say that-" You hiccup.
Jeno watches how the skimpy lady looks at you with amusement, even taking a seat on the large couch with a little chuckle. So cynical. "Please don't tell me you're one of those begging girls, you're too grown for that."
You ignore the skimpy lady and continue speaking, directing all your attention to Jaemin. "What am I supposed to do without you?"
"You're a bright girl. You'll figure it out. Take alimony. Clean me dry if that's what you want. Remove all your money from my account- heck go ahead and clear out my bank accounts. I don't care. All you ever think about is money, so take it all. Take everything you want, but this house. I own this house, you came here with nothing, you can leave with what you've earned throughout our time together. Sue me if you want. You signed a prenup, so take all that you want. But I'll have you know right now, that it's over. We need to separate because I can't do this anymore."
"You're mad Jaemin. I'm not leaving."
"No?" Jaemin clutches his jaw, chuckling bitterly. "Yes, you are. Don't make me act out, the truck is still outside. So just be obedient like you've always been and leave."
"Jaemin… please, just look at me." Your fingers claw at his sleeves gripping him tightly, slowly shaking him. "I'm the sweetheart you wanted to marry when we were just kids. We were sweethearts, Jaemin. We were kids when we started seeing each other. Ten years… how do you throw ten years onto the sidewalk like it’s trash? Jaemin, look at me. It’s me. It’s your wife. It's the girl who stayed up with you while you cried over your first surgery. How could you say these words to me? How could you… how could you do this to me? How could you say this to me?"
Your voice doesn't just tremble; it fractures, it brittles, a jagged sound that seems to come from your lungs rather than your throat.
"Jaemin, wait. This isn't- we can fix this. You're not thinking straight." You try to speak, and Jeno watches you get on your knees. Begging. "How could you do this to me? After everything I sacrificed for your career to thrive? Jaemin, it's me! I can do anything you want me to. I've always put you first. Even this work that I do- it's just for you. I'm your lawyer. How many cases have I defended you when you were guilty? Jaemin you can't do this to me. You're talking to me like I'm a stranger. You're looking at me like I'm a mistake. Please… please don’t do this to me. Not like this. Okay fine, what do you want me to do? Just say it- Please don't leave me."
"Y/n be a lady and leave quietly." Jaemin holds you up to stand to your feet, but you're shaking your head walking forward, and muttering out 'no'.
"Jaemin?" It' a small, broken sound, the sound of a child realizing they're lost. "How can you even think of doing this to me?" Your voice trails off into a ragged whisper. "How can you say these things? How can you do this to me when you know I have no one else? Jaemin, please… it's me. Don't you see me anymore? You said if you have me you have everything."
"I'm not going to say it again. Get up. And leave."
"No." You back away leaving him, not believing that this is your fate. "I'm not leaving you with this scarlet witch slut."
"Leave before I lose my temper."
"NO! I AM NOT LEAVING!" you yell out, your voice cracking painfully in the middle. "You don't get to do this! You don't get to delete ten years of my life and just… just throw me away!" Jeno listens and watches at how you aren't fighting for the furniture or the money; you're fighting for the right to exist in the life you sacrificed everything for.
"You what?" Jaemin asks confused. "I don't get the right to throw you away? Do you know what the fuck you've done to me? You've drained me! Mentally! Physically! I can't think when I'm with you! My ideas run dry whenever I'm here- stuck with you! I hate you Y/n- I hate you so much that I just want you to die- you know what- I think that'll make me happy. I want you to die. Die! Now fucking leave my house before I make you!"
Jeno's pulse quickens, as he watches the shadow play of the assault through the tall French doors. He can't stand it- the way Jaemin's hands clamp onto your frame, the raw, brutal force of him manhandling you across the marble floor like you're nothing but a nuisance to be cleared. The scene is reaching a drastic state. Every one of your jagged, desperate screams is followed by the sharp shatter of expensive porcelain and the heavy, sickening thud of furniture being overturned as Jaemin drags you by your waist. It isn't just an argument anymore… it's something he's deeply involved in now.
He watches how you try to hold onto literally anything - but it's no use, because after fiercely picking you up, he throws you out.
And then finally the door shuts, tightly with an extra bass to the house locking sound. Silence. Your voice is muffled as you cry out Jaemin's name.
Jaemin pants, his breath hitching as he rakes his fingers through his disheveled hair, the adrenaline of the struggle still radiating off him. He barely has time to steady himself before the other woman glides toward him, pressing into his space. She murmurs sweet nothings against his skin, and Jeno feels a wave of pure nausea as he watches Jaemin sink into her embrace, seeking comfort in her kiss while the echoes of your screams are still hanging in the air.
Well… now he wonders how to leave the house. To leave before you go on and do what Jaemin told you- to kill yourself. Jeno shakes his head. The urge to run down the stairs and punch Jaemin being so high right now.
"Can you believe that bitch? I can't believe you let her leave with my dress. I'm so pissed."
"Don't worry, I'll get you a new one,"
As a new wave of kisses echoes through the hollow house, Jaemin and the woman disappear deeper into the rooms, leaving the foyer silent and empty. Seizing the opening, Jeno slips down the stairs, his movements fueled by a sudden, sharp surge of courage. He reaches the front door, fumbling with the lock for only a second before bursting out into the night air- only to see your taillights bleeding into the distance as your car roars away.
Jeno sprints for the truck. It’s heavy and slow, but he has to try. Anything is better than letting the clock reset; he refuses to let the day restart only for you to suffer through that brutal confrontation all over again.
The engine groans to life as Jeno reverses and guns it, chasing after your reckless path. You're driving like someone with nothing left to lose, smashing straight through the security barrier at the gate without slowing down. Even as your car vanishes from his sight, Jeno doesn't hesitate. He knows exactly where you're heading- to that oak tree and the twisted metal of the accident. Gripping the wheel, he takes a sharp turn, pushing the truck to its limit as he attempts a shortcut, desperate to reach the crash site before you do.
He begins to wonder and think about a potential plan. What will he do? With the speed you're at, there's no stopping you with words.
After a few frantic turns, Jeno skids onto the main road. He’s made it. He swerves the truck, positioning it as a jagged shield in front of the oak tree, and leaps out. The distant roar of an engine grows louder, the high-pitched whine of a vehicle pushed to its breaking point. You're coming, and you're coming fast.
He begins waving his arms frantically, a desperate silhouette against the dark. He fumbles for his phone- 16% battery but he snaps on the flashlight, whipping the beam back and forth as he stands dead-center in the road.
The headlights finally crest the hill, blinding and furious. Jeno's heart hammers against his ribs, he has no idea if the loop protects him. If you die, the day restarts, but if he dies? It's a gamble- one that he's willing to take. He is the only thing standing between you and the end.
The car doesn't slow down. It's a bullet of steel and glass aimed straight for his chest. Jeno begins running across the street. Back and forth- darting left, then right, jumping in the path of death to force you to see him.
The screech of burning rubber tears through the night. Jeno's body goes rigid. He shuts his eyes, bracing for the bone-shattering impact, and waits for the world to go black-
BANG!
"Dad! You have to save mum! Dad, save her! Please!"
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
Jeno jolts up from his bed, breathing frantically holding onto his chest- where his heart is about to beat outside of his body! Did he die? Did he die? He didn't feel anything- so he knows he must've died because he's waking up again on a Thursday. Checking on his phone rapidly, Jeno grunts and runs a hand over his face. "Fuck."
He lays back on the bed, yet sits right up remembering hearing voices just before the impact. He tries to remember the words he heard echoing around. In his dark room, he blocks out his ears, the air suddenly feels cold. Distant as he brings himself back to that moment. He doesn't know if it was a group of people or what, but he recalls the voices of a child or children… Static crackles in his ears like an old radio, and through the noise, a chorus of small, desperate voices pierces through the void:
"Dad! You have to save mum! Dad, save her! Please!"
And his eyes open wide upon his memory returning.
The words don't make sense. "Dad save mum?" and then he remembers the other times when he heard voices in his dreams. "Remember so that I don't forget?" he sighs. "What the hell is going on?
And then his phone rings. Jeno ignores the buzzing on his phone, knowing it's from Chenle. He returns to ponder on the words…
Jeno shakes his head at the random first thought that comes. He grunts. "Ugh Chenle, what the hell did you get me into?"
At this point, everything that Jeno knows to be his life is over. Three different part time jobs is a thing of the past, he doesn't sleep during the day anymore, and his thoughts have only been filled with you. Even as he drives to your place, greets a confused Jaemin and gets to work, you fill his mind. You come in your vehicle (the same ride that killed him) and you yell for him to stop packing your stuff- but Jeno's been through this so many times, that he continues packing. And waits until the truck is full.
Today is the day he'll make you survive. But then:
'Dad! You have to save mum! Dad, save her! Please'
The words echo in his ears. Who is this dad? Who is that mum? Why are the begging him to 'save her'? Is the her the same mum? And why did he only get this dream when he was knocked out dead… Nothing makes sense. Nothing feels real anymore.
He's brought back to reality when his phone rings. He knows it's Chenle, and with less dread then all the other days, he gets up on a mission. Cleans himself up well, makes sure he seems good and leaves. Nothing out of the 'ordinary' happens. Same confused boss, same road, some maids, same you yelling at him to put your things back, same maids leaving at the same knock off time, and even Jaemi appearing under the dark sky confused.
"You're still here?"
Jeno explains the bill of lading issue like it's no big deal, because he knows it doesn't really matter. What matters on the other hand, is the next scene, the scene where it gets heavy. Jaemin signs the paper, asuring Jeno that he'll get you out. And that's when Jeno steps up. Because he knows how this will end, and he doesn't want to see it, or have a repeat of it. "Hey, do you think I could come with you?"
"Where? Inside my house?"
"Yes," Jeno smiles tightly. "She was actually very… rude to me. And I just want to make sure that she's alright with leaving with me, instead of getting surprised."
Jaemin is actually stunned by that. He tilts his head to the side, no look of despair, just wonder. "Uh, yeah. No problem."
Jaemin watches how Jeno takes his steps towards the house and follows right behind him. "I swear I've seen this guy before." Jaemin mutters under his breath.
Rae, his new girlfriend seated on the passenger seat, gently brushes his hair, patting it. "What's wrong bae?"
"Nothing. Just another worker almost overstepping their boundary line." Jaemin kisses her knuckles, gently squeezing her hand while driving up the little pathway. "It seems like the 'madam' is still in the house, I've gotta take her out."
"That bitch annoys the hell out of me. You know she claimed I was guilty in court, and I didn't even do anything."
"I know sweety. This will be the last time we'll deal with her. So, wait in the car, I'll be back."
"Wait?" She scoffs. "I'll give you a head start of 20 seconds."
Jaemin smiles, before he unbuckles his seatbelt preparing himself for what's to come when he is facing you. Truth be told, he had forced himself to be with you, when in reality he didn't love you. He's tried getting rid of you, but you always held on, no matter what, no matter the arguments. While he admired your persistence, he hated how much affection you had for him. Because no matter what, he couldn't show you back that same love. So as he stands next to Jeno and presses the numbers, he opens up the house door.
The warmth of the house spills out, a warmth that Jeno knows is about to turn ice-cold, especially when he sees the passenger door open and the skimpy lady walk up the staircase of the house. Jaemin looks uneasy, however he's got a determined face. Jeno wonders what is going on through Jaemin's head in this moment.
The foyer is decorated with flowers, yellow tulips that you're fixing near the kitchen entrance. You get the glass of champagne in your hand, your face lighting up when the door opens and you see Jaemin. "Honey-"
"Why the hell are you still here?" he questions in a low tone.
Your voice dies in your throat. Your gaze shifts from Jaemin to the 'prostitute' standing in his shadow, and finally to Jeno, who is lingering by the door.
Jeno watches you. He searches your eyes for any flicker of the 'Mum' the voices screamed for. For a split second, your eyes lock with his. You don't yell this time. You don't threaten to call the cops, instead, you tilt your head, a look of profound, haunting confusion crossing your features. It's as if you're looking at a ghost you recognize but can't name.
"Y/n," Jaemin starts, his voice flat and clinical. "I’m not going to make this a long night. Please just be a lady and leave quietly."
"Jaemin, what is this?" Your hand trembles, you leave the champagne on the table with the yellow flowers and pick up a black square gift box. "You're supposed to come in and say 'happy anniversary', not bring all these strange people. Why is this prostitute here? Why is the mover still here?"
"He's here to finish the job," Jaemin says, stepping into your personal space. He doesn't touch you yet, but Jeno sees his shoulders square up. Jeno notices how Jaemin tries to remain civil - perhaps because of the people around him. "The truck is packed. You and I are through." Jaemin says lazy, causing Jeno to speak - out of place.
"What he means to say is that, it doesn't have to end in chaos, just follow me out the door
The woman in the black dress giggles, a sharp, metallic sound that grates against Jeno’s nerves. He shifts his weight, his eyes darting between you and Jaemin. He is waiting for the moment Jaemin’s patience snaps.
"You’re joking," you whisper, the lawyer in you trying to find a loophole in a nightmare. "This is some kind of sick anniversary prank. It has to be." you pick up your glass, your hands shaking as you try to drink and laugh it off.
"It's not a prank, Y/n." Jaemin reaches out, his hand wrapping around your wrist to pull the glass away. But you don't budge, causing Jaemin's jaw to tense up. "Stop drinking and leave."
Jeno moves before he can think- especially when seeing Jaemin grabbing onto both of your wrists almost violently. He steps forward, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "I'll take over from here. It doesn't have to get physical, and you just can't deal with someone like that. For fucks sake it's your anniversary and you didn't even warn her that you'd do this shit."
Jaemin freezes, his head snapping toward Jeno. The woman on the couch stops laughing. Even you look at him, stunned by the sheer audacity of the hired help.
"I'll deal with her the way I want to deal with her." Jaemin’s voice is a low, dangerous growl.
Jeno doesn't back down. He feels the ghost of those voices pushing at his back. Dad, save her. The way he feels in his heart right now in this moment speaks volumes. A part of him is certain that those voices were trying to call out to him- that he is the dad… and that you… are the mum… meaning in some twisted way… "I said don't touch her," Jeno repeats, his eyes burning into Jaemin's hands over her wrists. "You signed the bill of lading, I'll take over from here."
The air in the foyer turns heavy. Jaemin lets out a sharp, incredulous laugh, dropping your wrist as he turns fully toward Jeno. "I don’t know what kind of hero-complex you've got, but you're a hired hand. You don't get to mingle in our personal affairs. Get out before I have you arrested."
"Jaemin, stop it!" you yell, your voice cracking. You look between them, the champagne glass slipping from your numb fingers and shattering on the marble. The sound is like a starting pistol. You scramble back, chest heaving. "Who is this? Why are you doing this to me? I- I know you're upset but please I planned a trip for us, and I want to make it better."
"There is no trip, Y/n! There is no us!" Jaemin screams, finally losing the mask of calm. He lunges toward you, not to hit, but to grab your arm and drag you toward the door. "Both of you, out! Take your trash and your 'bodyguard' and get out of my sight!"
"No! I am not leaving!" You fight him, your heels skidding on the spilled alcohol, your hands clawing at the air. "Jaemin, please!"
Jeno doesn't wait for the violence to escalate, instead he steps in, his large frame wedging between you and Jaemin. "Let's just leave." With a firm but careful grip, he hooks his arm around your waist, hoisting you back.
"Let go of me! Who do you think you are?" you scream, pummeling Jeno’s chest with your fists. You are a whirlwind of silk and rage, your eyes bloodshot with the suddenness of your life ending.
"He isn't worth it," Jeno grunts, absorbing your blows as he maneuvers you toward the exit. "He clearly doesn't want to stay so let's go."
"Put me down this instant! I will fucking kill you! Do you know who I am?" you howl, but the door slams shut behind you, the click of the deadbolt sounding like a guillotine.
Jeno doesn't stop. He carries you, kicking and sobbing- "You don't need him."
You grunt out in pure anger. "AHHHH! Who the hell are you?" You stand up- with all sorts of emotions reflecting in your eyes. The tears that threaten to spill are a mixture of rage and sorrow once you prey with all your might and finally get out of his tight grasp. "Do you even know who I am?" you push him back with all your strength grating your teeth struggling to stop yourself from trembling from anger and disbelief. "I can sue you for meddling in my personal life- you put your hands on me- you dragged me out of my own house"
"With all due respect ma'am, he would've done worse."
"You don't know that!"
"Yes I do actually. I've seen this one too many times-"
"What the hell are you even talking about?" you cry out in pure rage and disbelief as you turn around and cover your face. A laugh and cry leave your mouth at the same time. "You just ruined- you idiot! Why did you do that? Do you know that I can sue you right now?" You break down vulnerably. "Why is he like this? How could he do that to me? With those savage- Am I not enough? I've done everything for him. Jaemin!" You pound on the door frantically but Jeno holds you back again.
You scramble out of his arms in rage pushing him back and down the steps yelling out. "WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU!" Jeno allows you to push him around and yelling. "Who the hell do you think you are! Who the hell do you think you are? Why did you do that?" And by yourself- you stop pushing him and take a step back, panting out and looking back up towards the door that you were dragged out of. The shut door with no Jaemin. He didn't even chase after you… he really threw you out. You can't believe it, so you look back at Jeno. "I will ruin you." you whisper, your voice thick as fresh tears leave your eyes. "I’m going to sue you. I’m going to ruin you for this. You ruined everything. I could have talked him down… I could've calmed him… you just ruined everything."
Without another word, you wipe your eyes and head to the truck where your things are. You take a seat and strap yourself. By the time Jeno gets behind the wheel he takes a look at you. But you have your face in your hands.
Jeno doesn't speak.
He just starts his car and exits the mansion's noble land.
He drives the exact route he knows by heart, the one that leads to the bend in the road where the old oak tree stands. The one you crash into every night and make the loop happen again. He pulls the truck onto the grass, the headlights illuminating the thick tree. He cuts the engine.
Dryly, you let out an odd statement. "You wanna bury me alive. Don't you?" Jeno stares at you, at how odd your rhetorical question is. You've been quiet the entire ride, resorting to leaning on the palm of your hand while you stared dead at the road.
"Why would I wanna bury you?"
Your voice is now charged with irritation. "Gee Sherlock, first you kidnap me out of my own home, stuff me in your truck, and now we're in the middle of nowhere at a fucking park. Who knows what's in your trunk aside from my things- oh yeah, a knife and shovel so that you can fucking rape me and then burry me alive because you don't have the guts to kill me-"
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Jeno questions, sounding disgusted. "You're making it hard for me to pity you?"
"Do I look pitiful to you? Why the fuck would you want to pity me? Because my husband throw me out of the house?" Your voice charged with authority gets Jeno to sigh out in irritation.
"I didn't mean it like that." He says tightly.
"All you men are just alike," you scoff and fold your arms. Your tears have run dry and there's a dry strand making paths down where they used to be.
Jeno is confused to say the least. He doesn't understand you, even though he thought he understood. All he can do is stare while being baffled. He thought that by bringing you here, you'd remember or… at least be in your feels so that you guys could… he doesn't know what he intended- all he knows is that today was supposed to be the day he keeps you alive. But you're impossible to deal with. Your bipolar and sarcastic mood doesn't sit right with him and he just wants to leave you alone. But he knows he'd be walking up to the same day again.
So he sighs, as a way to calm down… and attempt to try again with you.
"I…" His speech halts as he wonders. Does he tell you the truth? Or some words of comfort? Fuck that- he thinks to himself. He's come too far to mess it up. And there's no way you can kill yourself now- not on his watch. "I have dreams… about you."
"So you wanna fulfill your fantasies." you mumble boredly, clearly drained of energy and probably choosing sarcasm and annoyance to get by.
"You die every time. And no, I'm not the one who kills you. You do that to yourself. " Jeno ignores you. "In my dreams… you just choose to die, because you don't want to live in a world without him- without Jaemin. And can I just tell you- while I still have the chance- that man is an ass. He's dragged you out shamelessly, cheated on you, disrespected you- and he's weakened you."
You don't say anything. And Jeno doesn't look at you, he stares at the tree.
"I know this all sounds crazy, but I'm tired of seeing you die. That's why I did what a did."
"What mental asylum did you escape?" Your question, has Jeno rolling his eyes. "No seriously, pass me the blunt you smoked so that I can escape reality just like you? To hell with this, just take me to a hotel-"
"So that you can take your own life? No. You're staying right here where I can see you."
"You can't keep me here-"
Jeno doesn't budge when he removes the key from the ignition and stuff the key in his pocket- ignoring your wide eyes of disbelief.
After a moment you lean back in stun. "I cannot believe this is happening to me." You shake your head. "No phone. No way out. And I'm trapped with a man who's smoked heaven knows what."
"I'm being serious here."
You shake your head. "No. You're being a man. You want to play games with me. So that you-"
"Humor me a bit." Jeno interrupts you, not caring. "That lady in the house- the one Jaemin brought. Do you know her?"
That gets you quiet- shut down in speech.
"How about another question… what do you dream about?"
That gets you to stare, clutching your jaw and leaning back on your seat while looking out the window. Angry, you fold your arms and restrain yourself from entertaining this mad man- you don't know what to do. The door is looked and he's hell bent on believing his damn hallucination. You could always hit him and fight him and then get out- but you're not too sure what state this man is in. For one, he could really rape and kill you- if he's that crazy. And two, you don't have anywhere to go, so even if you did run away. You've got no phone, no money… and no way…
Jeno turns his head to you. Even though you're not looking at him, he's taking you in with his eyes. Something shifts in him… call it pity or sympathy. But he just sees you being broken and in need of fixing. How did you get like this? He wonders, but doesn't say it out loud. You're hellbent on not speaking to him- Jeno watches his dashboard as the time turns from 2 minutes of silence to 30 minutes of full on quiet and only nature hearing.
"Remember, so that I don't forget." Jeno suddenly says. No reaction from you- at least not one that he can see. "I hear that in my dreams as well. As well as someone telling a dad to save a mum… I hear someone saying 'I love you'. I hear someone saying 'Don't die'. And frankly speaking… Y/n… I'm tired of starting this day over and over again… So please, just do me a favor and don't die tonight… There's literally 4 minutes to midnight… and I've missed out so much of my life trying to worry about you and trying to figure out what the hell is going on. Please."
You finally turn to him. Your eyes aren't full of the disbelief or disgust you’ve carried since you first climbed into this truck; instead, they’re just… hollow. He watches you, bracing himself, waiting for the one sentence that might finally make this loop madness make sense.
When you finally speak, your voice is a ghost of itself.
"I have dreams of dying. I don't know how I die, but when I die, I'm at peace." You lick your dry lips and look away. "It's like, only for a limited time, I'm free from my burdens of life. I'm alive even though I'm dead… So sometimes, when this earth is just too much… I dream of going away to that place where I felt nothing but waves of peace."
Jeno isn't expecting that answer at all- in fact he didn't even expect you to be vulnerable suddenly. "So you'd prefer to die instead of live?"
A dry, joyless scoff escapes your throat. "In this moment? When you’ve just ruined my relationship with my husband? Or when I’ve finally realized I was never actually needed in his life?" Your breath hitches as you catch sight of the dress draped over your lap—a dress that belonged to the other woman. "Maybe this is just what I get for choosing wrongly. You told me to remember so I wouldn't forget… and I recalled those dreams. They weren't like yours. No loops. Just visions of me in the afterlife, finally living happily with myself and with the right… with the right person."
You turn to him, your vision blurring as tears finally clump together in your lashes. Jeno holds your gaze, his chest rising in a heavy, grounding breath.
"I learned a long time ago that love hurts," he says, his voice low and steady. "So I don't bother with it. I just try my best to be… good. Or at least, to not hurt people. The world is already full of that. I'm no saint, but I hate violence. I try to minimize it. And this loop… it’s made me aware that I do have a soft spot. I don't like seeing people die."
"Tell me about this loop," you ask suddenly, the shift in your tone catching him off guard. "Tell me how I die. Tell me how you save me."
Jeno flinches, a flicker of failure crossing his eyes. "I… I haven't even saved you yet. I think this is the fifth or sixth loop. It's been almost a week now. You just die, every time."
"So what's different this time?"
He inhales softly, his throat bobbing as he gulps, trapped by the intensity of your stare. "I made it my mission that today… I’d try to get you to at least live until midnight."
Simultaneously, you both look at the dashboard clock. 00:03. A small, genuine smile breaks through Jeno’s exhaustion, and a faint reflection of it touches your own lips. "Goal achieved," he whispers.
The silence that follows is different—warm, almost stifling. Jeno holds his breath as a strange heat crawls up his skin. He doesn't want the moment to end, but before he can find the words to keep it going, you beat him to it.
"What's your next mission? To make me fall in love with life? To not give up? To believe there’s better out there for me? To forgive?" Your sarcasm is there, but it’s brittle, layered over a deep, aching sadness. You let out a small, tired chuckle. "I don't know if I'm that strong. I've revolved my entire life around Jaemin. I met him when I was fifteen; he was playing medic for my scraped knee. I took care of him. I paid his expenses so he wouldn't stress. I even became a lawyer just to get him clearance for his medical practice. I made his life easy."
Your voice cracks as the reality settles in. "So I don't understand why, after all that sacrifice, I'm the one in this truck with my life packed in the back. I've wasted my life. He took it from me, and he didn't even say sorry. He just kicked me out."
Jeno stays silent. He doesn't offer empty platitudes because he doesn't have the answers. He just sits there, letting the space between you hold the weight of your words until the air clears.
"I'm not gonna tell you to take it one day at a time," he says finally. "Because I know that’s not what you want to hear. Truth is, I don't know what's going on either. So instead, I'll just tell you to live. Not for him. For you. You’re a bright woman—intelligent beyond compare. A 'bulldog,' as I read on the 'net."
You nod, a shaky breath escaping you as you stare out at the lone tree he’s parked in front of. "Will he even care who I become now that he’s left me?"
"Who knows? But don't do it for him. Quit your job if it hurts. Start fresh. Smile more, because it’s beautiful. Don't be a picture-perfect woman. Just be… alive. Be the moment. Hell," Jeno smirks, a flash of his usual self returning. "I'm giving you motivational advice that I don't even take myself."
You chuckle, finally turning away from the window to look at him. "At first, I was just entertaining the idea of the loop… but I think I know why you were stuck with me."
"Why? Because it hasn't been obvious to me. Delight me."
"Because no one has ever spoken to me like this. No one. I'm always the one talking—"
"—And threatening to sue," he cuts in with a grin.
"Exactly." You laugh softly. "I know I’m not easy. You could've taken advantage of this loop. You could've done anything knowing the day would just restart… but you spent it trying to save me. You could've robbed a bank, or partied, or… just lived your life."
"Trust me, none of that interests me. I just get by. Anyone who knows me knows two things: I work three part-time jobs, and I sleep until 5 p.m. My life is simple."
"Peaceful?"
"Aside from a crazy neighbor shooting his gun every morning? Yeah, it’s peaceful."
"I need that peace," you whisper, the longing evident in your voice. "Do you think I'd fit in?"
Jeno looks at you, really looks at you, and shakes his head. "With the neighbors I have? Probably not. You belong in a mansion."
"No, you do. You're responsible. I belong in the gutter."
"No," Jeno says firmly, reaching out as if to stop the thought. "We're not doing that. No more putting yourself down. Let’s be positive. If you want to downgrade from a mansion to a rusty condo, then go for it. Learn something new."
You look at him, the first spark of something like hope flickering in your chest. "I will." You nod eagerly. "Are there any available rooms in your condo right now?"
Jeno's eyes widen. "Wait like now?"
You nod, a sudden, frantic energy replacing the hollow ache in your chest. He stares at you for a long beat, searching for any sign of a joke, but he only finds a sharp, desperate sincerity. He leans back into the headrest, a breath of pure wonder escaping him. He hadn't expected you to be this highly motivated, or this impulsive… but the fire in your eyes is hard to argue with. It's Friday, after all. And miraculously, he didn't wake up to the sound of Mark's morning target practice today.
Before shifting the truck into gear, Jeno looks out at the twisted, ancient branches of the tree they were parked under. He points a finger toward the gnarled bark. "Does this tree… have any significance?"
You follow his gaze, to the tree. "Did you know that trees are the only things that truly know how to let go?" you ask softly. "Every autumn, they don't struggle to keep their leaves. They don't mourn them. They just let them fall because they know that to survive the winter, they have to become a little bit emptier. They trust that something else will grow when the time is right." You reach out, your fingertips brushing the cold glass of the window. "I used to come here when the house felt too loud with Jaemin's silence. I'd look at this tree and wonder how it stayed so grounded while everything around it changed."
Jeno watches you, his expression softening into something unreadable but profoundly kind. He doesn't say anything, because he doesn't have to. The silence in the truck isn't heavy anymore… it feels like a clean slate. He gives the tree a final, respectful nod, then turns the key.
As the truck gains speed, heading toward his rough neighborhood, Jeno glances at you and sighs, almost embarrassed. "Fair warning: the elevator in my building has a personality. You have to kick the door twice on the third floor or it'll keep you hostage."
You let out a shocked laugh, the sound bright and startling Jeno for a bit.
Jeno leaves you in the truck, his mind racing. He's half-convinced that if he looks away, you'll pull a U-turn and drive straight back into the life that broke you. But he chooses to trust you. He climbs the stairs and beats down on the landlord's door… obviously Jeno is met with a storm of muffled curses and 1 a.m. irritation. After a tense back-and-forth, Jeno returns to the truck, breath visible in the night air. "Good news, there's a vacancy. Bad news, he wants the deposit before you even get a key."
You look at him, then at your lap. Your bank cards, your purse, your entire digital life… it's all back at the mansion. "I have nothing," you whisper, you sudden motivation slowly fading from your mind. "Just the boxes." Who did you think you where? Trying to 'try' at life but really you were just meant to die-
"I/ve got it," Jeno says simply cutting you from speaking down on yourself. He doesn't wait for you to protest. He goes… and then he pays the fee, and by 2 a.m., the two of you are hauling heavy cardboard boxes up a flight of narrow, slightly peeling stairs.
The apartment is tiny, a 'rough around the edges' studio that smells faintly of old floor wax. By 3 a.m., the floor is a sea of brown tape and labels. You look at the pile, then at the limited square footage, and realize half of your old life won't even fit.
"Take the rest," you tell him, gesturing to the remaining boxes in the truck. Your voice is small, hesitant, but firm. "Do whatever you want with them. Sell them, toss them. I don't want to look at them."
When Jeno finally finishes placing all the boxes neatly in the truck and wonders what to do with the rest- a cold realization hits him. If the loop is truly over, he's missed his shift. He's probably in trouble. But as he looks up at the single yellow light glowing from your new window, the worry doesn't bite as hard as it should. You're safe. You're alive. That's all that matters for now. He'll probably have to take it to Chenle's boss and explain…
He stumbles into his own room, collapses onto his bed, and shuts his eyes. Anxiety hums in his veins. Please let it be Friday when I wake up, he prays. Please let the sun come up on a new day. Not Thursday…
-
"Remember so that I don't forget."
-
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
Jeno's eyes snap open. His heart lunges against his ribs, a frantic, terrified rhythm. He bolts upright, chest heaving as he gasps for air. No. No, no, no. He reaches for his phone with shaking hands, squinting at the bright screen. "Oh God. Please no. Not again." he runs his hand over hair, before pressing the button on the screen.
10 a.m.
…
Friday.
The loop didn't reset.
The day just continued.
In a state of pure, adrenaline-fueled shock, he runs out of his room and lunges up the stairs to your floor. He finds you standing in the hallway, still wearing that same dress, though it's wrinkled now. You look like you just woke up and are trying to find the source of the gunshots. You're rubbing sleep from your eyes, looking thoroughly unimpressed.
"Is that the gunshot neighbor?" you ask, your voice dry with morning-after annoyance.
Jeno doesn't answer. He just laughs- a loud, hysterical sound of pure relief. You're still here. You didn't vanish into a reset. He's got his life back, and you're a part of it. Sorta. He walks toward you, fists balled in excitement, and pulls you into a sudden, crushing hug.
"Thank you for not dying," he mumbles into your shoulder, his voice thick. He doesn't pay mind to your startled stance as he engulfs you closer in a deep sincere hug. "If you need anything. Anything at all, you've got a really good friend in me. I promise. I won't let you die. I can't solve all your problems, but I won't let you go. Thank you."
You stand there, stiff at first, before your hands tentatively rest on his back. You aren't strong yet-your hands are still shaking… but you don't pull away. "Seriously what did you smoke, I want to smoke it as well."
The days that follow blur into a new, quiet rhythm.
Jeno leaves behind the grind of his third late-night job, having landed a steadier gig at Chenle's workplace. It gives him something he hasn't had in years: time. Time to rest, and time to check in on the woman he pulled out of a time loop.
He didn't think you were serious about the 'gutter' life, but you prove him wrong. You officially resign from your old lawyer firm, trading courtrooms for the park, where you join those slightly tragic-looking morning exercise groups. You're always a step behind the rhythm, hesitant and unsure, but you show up. Every single day. Jeno watches you from his window… supportive.
Eventually, you land a job at a local pet store. Your days are filled with the scent of cedar shavings and the quiet company of animals that don't ask for legal clearance or sacrifices. You never mention Jaemin. You never call him. Jeno never pries into that closed door, content to just watch you build a world that is finally, mercifully, your own.
Until- An interlude… of the unthinkable happens.
4 years later…
You sit up with a sudden, sharp gasp. Your eyes fly open, but for a second, everything is a blur. The hard plastic of the hospital chair is digging into your back, and your neck feels stiff and sore. The air smells so strongly of chemicals and bleach that it's hard to breathe. Your mind is still in a daze and you look around in the dark room wondering where you are.
Then, the sound hits you.
Beep… beep… beep…
The heart monitor. It's the steady, lonely sound that has been the soundtrack of your life for four years. It snaps you back to reality instantly. This isn't a dream; it's the sterile, suffocating air of the hospital.
You sigh, the sound heavy with four years of exhaustion, before stretching your stiff limbs and crossing the small room to Jeno's bedside. You flick on the lamp, its warm glow cutting through the oppressive shadows. It’s 00:08. You yawn, rubbing the sleep from your face as you pointedly ignore the release papers sitting on the nightstand, the cold, legal reality of a life moving on without him.
You take your usual seat, sinking into the chair that has molded to your shape over the years, and look at him. Even in a coma, Jeno has aged with a quiet, heartbreaking grace. The sharp, restless energy he once had in that truck has settled into something soft and ethereal. His skin is pale under the lamp, but his features remain as striking as ever, frozen in a peace he didn't have to fight for.
Gently, you place your hand over his face, your thumb tracing the familiar line of his jaw. You smile a little, a fragile, private thing in the quiet of the ward.
"Don't die on me." you whisper. "Please… wake up."
Suddenly, the steady rhythm breaks into a frantic, high-pitched sound.
Beep-beep-beep-beep!
"Jeno?" You bolt upright, your heart leaping into your throat.
Jeno's body is shaking violently on the hospital bed. He's fighting against the thin hospital sheets, his back arching off the bed in a stiff, painful curve. His heels dig into the mattress, and his arms and legs are trembling with a force that looks like it might break him. It's terrifying to watch. It looks like he's trapped inside himself, and his mind is desperately trying to tear its way out of his skin just to get back to you.
"Nurse! I need a nurse in here! Help!" you scream, your voice cracking with the same desperation you felt in the dream.
The door bursts open. A swarm of blue scrubs floods the room. "He's crashing! Status epilepticus, get five of lorazepam, now!" A nurse yells out.
"Step back, Mrs Na! We need space!"
You sink against the cold hospital window, the glass chilling your forehead as you bury your face in your shaking hands. The tears come before you can stop them, hot, heavy, and exhausted.
It feels like a lifetime ago, yet you can still see the exact moment the light went out.
Fours years ago… after Jeno and you had just created a life together by welcoming twins into the world… Jeno was in a terrible truck accident.
It didn't just break his body but it stole his memory. You remember standing by his bed back then, your heart racing, waiting for him to look at you with that familiar warmth. Instead, when he finally opened his eyes, he looked right through you.
The look was hollow. Empty. It was the first true tragedy of the loop… the day the man who had died a dozen times to save you finally lived, only to look at the woman he loved and tell the doctors he didn’t know who she was.
You had been devastated, a ghost haunting the halls of your own life, but you stayed. You held his hand every day, even when his fingers remained limp or, worse, when he pulled away because you were a stranger to him.
"You're here again," he had whispered a few months into the first year after his accident when you came to visit him in the hospital. His voice raspy from disuse. He wasn't looking at you with the warmth you'd grown custom to… or the shared secret of the midnight deadline. He was looking at you with polite, agonizing curiosity.
"I brought the books you like," you said, your voice caught in a permanent state of repair. "The ones about the trees. You used to say they were the only things that stayed in place."
Jeno tilted his head, a ghost of a frown pulling at his brow. "I don't remember saying that. I don't… I don't even think I like… trees that much."
The rejection was a physical blow, a silent bang that echoed louder than any gunshot neighbor. You forced a smile anyway, the kind of smile you'd practiced in the mirror.
"That's okay," you whispered, reaching out to tuck the blanket around his legs. "I remember for both of us."
"Why do you stay?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for a history that simply wasn't there anymore. "You're a lawyer, aren't you? You look like you have important places to be. Important people waiting."
You paused, your hand hovering near his. "I'm…" The doctors told you to be patient and steady, and not rush to expose all the memories… "I'm not that person anymore, Jeno. I'm just… a friend. Someone who doesn't like seeing people go through things alone."
He had just nodded then, turning his head back to the window, leaving you to sit in the heavy, sterile silence of a love that only existed in one heart.
He remembered his best friend Chenle.
The second tragedy was louder, more violent. It didn't arrive with the hollow silence of his memory loss; it came with a crash.
Just as the doctors finally cleared Jeno to come home—the modest two-bedroom apartment you’d carefully scrubbed and prepared—the reality of your new life collided with his fractured one. You stood in the doorway, watching him navigate the hallway like a man walking through a museum of someone else's life.
Then, the nursery door creaked open.
The sight of the twin cribs, the soft scent of baby powder, and the quiet gurgling of two infants should have been a homecoming. Instead, Jeno froze. He looked at the babies, then back at you, his expression a painful mixture of confusion and a growing, defensive panic.
"Who… whose are they?" he whispered, his voice thin.
The truth died in your throat. You looked at the man who had died for you, the man whose face was mirrored in the sleeping children before him, and you chose the only mercy you had left.
"They're mine," you said, the lie tasting like ash.
"Who's the baby daddy? You married?" he looked at your ring.
"Ah… yes. The baby daddy… and I are taking a break. But don't worry about it. I'm just your roommate, Jeno. We've shared this place for a while. It's… it's a big apartment. You have your own space."
He let out a breath, his shoulders dropping in visible relief. "Oh. Right. Roommates." He looked at the twins again, his eyes distant and polite. "They're… they're beautiful. Oh they're girls. Sorry if I ask too many questions."
"It's okay," you managed, your nails digging into your palms as you forced a steady tone. "You were gone for a while. It's a lot to take in."
You had to accept it then… the crushing weight of a father who didn't recognize his own blood. You watched him reach out a hesitant finger to touch a tiny hand, only to flinch back when the baby stirred. It was a clean break. You were a ghost in your own home, raising his children in the shadow of a man who thought he was just a guest.
Every time you looked at them and saw his eyes, his smile, his quiet strength, the wound reopened. But you stayed. You played the role of the helpful roommate, the kind stranger, because even if he didn't know who you were, you knew exactly who he was to you.
And the second tragedy… one minute, he was standing in the middle of your small living room, his brow furrowed as he argued about something trivial, a misplaced key, a bill, something you can't even remember now. Then, the words simply died in his throat. His eyes rolled back, and he dropped.
He hit the floor with a sickening thud, his body suddenly a stranger to itself, shaking like a fish out of water. You had scrambled to him, your heart hammering against your ribs, pressing your hands to his shoulders and counting his breaths until the storm passed. You thought you'd won that round.
But the second time, there was no warning.
You woke up in the dead of night to the sound of the bedframe rattling against the wall. The moonlight caught the frantic, rhythmic jerking of his limbs. You screamed his name, shaking him, begging him to come back, but his eyes were fixed on a ceiling only he could see.
"Jeno! Jeno, look at me! Breathe, please just breathe!"
Your voice had been a raw, jagged thing in the dark, but he was gone. You fumbled for your phone, your fingers slick with sweat as you dialed for an ambulance, the silence of the room replaced by the terrifying, wet sound of his labored breathing.
The rush to the hospital was a blur of red lights and cold linoleum. You sat in the waiting room, your hands stained with the ink of the release papers you couldn't bring yourself to sign, until… a doctor finally emerged with a look that held no hope.
"It's Status Epilepticus," the doctor explained, his voice clinical and detached. "Essentially, his brain has entered a seizure loop. It's stuck, and it won't break on its own."
"Loop?" You asked.
The word loop had sent a cold shiver down your spine. It was a cruel irony, the man who had spent a while trying to break a loop of time was now trapped in one made of his own firing neurons.
Usually, a seizure lasts a minute or two, and the brain resets. But for Jeno, the electrical storms in his head just kept firing, one after another, without giving his body a second to breathe. They explained to you, in those cold hospital hallways, that because the seizures wouldn't stop, his brain was essentially overheating.
To save his life and stop the permanent damage, they had no choice. They had to put him into a medically induced coma.
They told you it would only be for a few days, just enough time for the 'electrical fire' in his brain to burn out so they could wake him up. But days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months. And eventually, those months turned into four long, silent years. His brain had gone into a protective shell, and no matter how much the doctors tried to lower the medication, Jeno simply wouldn't wake back into reality.
For four years, you've lived in a quiet house. You've watched your 2 baby girls grow up in a long, cold shadow, babies becoming young walking girls who only know their father as a steady heartbeat and a collection of tubes.
'Dad you need to save mum please-' One of your daughters would whisper in her father's ear. 'She keeps crying. Please wake up.'
You've had to be both parents, all while mourning a man who was still breathing right in front of you. He was technically there, a body in a bed, but he was spiritually gone, lost in some dream world you couldn't reach.
But ten days ago, everything changed.
The doctors called you, their voices tight with a new kind of energy. For the first time in a while, the monitors showed a spark. A surge. Something in Jeno was fighting back, screaming from the bottom of a dark well. They told you to talk to him. They said he needed a 'tether'… a reason to climb back up. They told you that your voice might be the only thing strong enough to pull him home.
And so you've been sitting here, hour after hour, whispering the same stories into the silence, hoping that somewhere in that seizure loop in his head, he can finally hear you.
So even now… through the gaps between the doctors' shoulders, you watch the chaos. "He's in V-fib! Charging! Clear!"
BANG.
Jeno's chest jolts off the bed. The sound echoes in the room.
BANG.
"Come on, Jeno," you whisper into your palms. "Don't leave us. Not again."
BANG.
The monitor lets out a long, terrifying drone… and then, a steady, slow beep… beep…
"He's stable. Sinus rhythm is returning." The doctors begin to exhale, backing away, recording notes. One by one, they file out, leaving the room in a heavy, exhausted silence. All except one, Doctor Na Jaemin.
"Y/n. It's time to sign those papers-"
"No. He's still breathing-"
"You can't possibly want to live like this. Have pity on yourself. It's been 4 years- You're not looking any happier then he is." He calls your name gently. "When are you gonna finally leave him?"
"I can't give up on him." You walk past Jaemin and sit on the edge of Jeno's bed. "He saved my life…"
"It doesn't mean you get to save his."
"Yes it does. I said my vows. In sickness, and in health."
Jaemin sighs. "You said those vows to me now-" he shuts his mouth when you give him a glare. "Fine. I'll leave." The release papers that he left a week ago are still on the coffee table. Jaemin shakes his head, finding everything hopeless.
"Thanks." Jaemin stops in his track and then looks at you. "For paying the bill for this month, for him."
Jaemin's expression tightens, his hand lingering on the door handle. There is a flicker of something in his eyes… not just the professional coldness of a doctor, but the exhaustion of a man who has been playing a long, patient game. As a lead neurologist, Jaemin had been the one to oversee Jeno's case from the very beginning. He was the one who explained the Status Epilepticus to you four years ago, and he was the one who eventually told you that the coma might be permanent. But over those four years, the lines had blurred…
The relationship Jaemin had with the woman he cheated with didn't last. Once the thrill wore off, he realized she was only there for the lifestyle and the money. When he heard you had rushed to the hospital that night, breaking down in frantic heaps of tears, he showed up. He stood right beside you as if he belonged there.
Because you had never responded to the court dates for the divorce, you and Jaemin were still technically married. Even after years apart, the paperwork said you were his. He took advantage of that. He saw your vulnerability, a woman exhausted from waiting for her 'roommate' to wake up, struggling to raise two babies alone.
Eventually, the stress broke you. Between the mounting hospital bills for Jeno, the rent for the condo, and the costs of two growing children, you were running on fumes. Jaemin made a proposal, and with no other choice, you agreed to move back into the mansion, but only until Jeno got better.
It was a cold arrangement. Jaemin became your support and your financier, playing the part of the devoted husband while the man you actually loved lay silent in this hospital room. You were living a double life: a wife in a big, empty house by day, and a grieving stranger at Jeno's bedside by night.
He's been pushing the release papers for months now, his medical expertise telling him that Jeno's brain is a lost cause. He wants you to sign them so the hospital can finally pull the plug and let Jeno's heart stop. To the world, Jaemin is being a merciful doctor; but to you, it feels like he's trying to erase the only man who ever truly saw you.
"Don't thank me for the money, Y/n," Jaemin says, his voice dropping to a low, frustrated hum. "I'm not paying his bills because I want him to stay. I'm paying them because I want you to be free. Just look at you, clutching a hand that hasn't squeezed back in a decade."
"He's still in there, Jaemin," you whisper, not looking back at him. "I know he is,"
"Not this again," Jaemin counters sharply. He looks at the papers on the coffee table one last time. "The board is pressured for the bed, and your children deserve a mother who isn't a ghost. Think about it. Really think about it tonight."
The door clicks shut behind him, leaving you alone with the hum of the machines.
You turn back to Jeno, his face pale and still. You reach out, lacing your fingers through his, and for the first time in ten years, you don't talk about the kids or the weather. You lean in close to his ear.
"Jeno," you breathe, your voice trembling. "If you're ever going to wake up… if you're ever going to save me like you did before… it has to be now. Because I don't know how much longer I can fight him for you."
Suddenly, the heart monitor- the one Jaemin just said showed no hope- skips a beat. Then another.
And then, Jeno's thumb brushes against your palm. You don't know if it's reflexes, but he's done this to you, several days in a row now. Always private, with no witnesses but him and you. And it's in that slight thumb brushing over your fingers, that you have hope.
You sink into the chair and take his hand.
"What are you dreaming about, honey?" you ask, your voice a ragged whisper as you brush a stray hair from his forehead. "Because I miss you." You lean heavily against his arm, the sterile scent of the sheets filling your senses. "Please wake up… I need you to wake up. The doctors are telling me it’s time to pull the plug. They say it's been too long. But Jeno…" A sob escapes as you press his cold knuckles to your lips. "I need you more than ever."
You let out a small, bitter laugh, the kind that only comes from years of grieving someone who is still breathing. "Are you still in the loop? The one where you saved me? Where we went from strangers to… whatever we were? What was it you said? Remember so that I don't forget? I need you to remember, Jeno. I need you to remember me."
You start to tell the story again, the one you've whispered a thousand times in this room, hoping the truth might finally shatter the glass of his coma. You look down at the ring on your finger, the one you still wear, even though the Jaemin thinks of Jeno's ring as a joke.
"Jaemin… he really hates you. He wants me to think about it. To give the go ahead at pulling your plug. But I won't even think once about killing you. All I can think about is how you saved me." You take a soft breath, thinking about where all your problems started. "It should've been me who got hit that day. I should've been the one in that truck… but you took the keys that morning and offered… It should've been me."
Your eyes water as you bury your face in the side of the bed. After a moment, you sit up, checking the clock. 01:00 AM. "I'm so scared he’ll do it while I’m not here," you whisper to the silent room. "That he’ll pull the plug the moment I step out. I can't leave you alone. I'm just so scared."
You lean forward, resting your forehead against his hand, seeking a warmth that isn't there.
The door creaks open. You brace yourself for another one of Jaemin's rages, but instead, he walks in calmly, carrying a bouquet of flowers. He crosses the room with practiced ease and drops to one knee, presenting the flowers like a peace offering. Tucked into the petals is a small note.
You set Jeno's hand down gently and take the paper. Jaemin watches your face as it shifts from deep sadness to confusion, and finally, to pure shock.
"Jaemin…"
"The girls are turning five next week," he says with a heavy sigh. "They need a father. I'm sorry for rushing you, but I can't keep watching you fall apart for a ghost in a bed. I've been their father for four years, Y/n. Let's make it official."
He looks at Jeno's still form, then back at you with a terrifyingly calm expression.
"Please. End his misery so ours can finally begin. I promise you this time, I will treat you better. I miss you."
-
Jeno's Pov
Jeno is walking down a hallway that never seems to end. Everything is a pale, shimmering white. Every few seconds, bright flashes of light zip past him like falling stars. He knows he is trapped in his own mind… his own memory lane, and he is searching desperately for a way out. A way to wake up. He has to find the exit before the light disappears forever.
He reaches out and grabs a brass handle. When he opens the door, he sees a memory in the room… a familiar memory.
"You're late," your voice says, playful and sharp as he follows you to the kitchen after a heavy shift. You are wearing an oversized t-shirt, holding a piece of burnt toast. "I finally made burnt toast. See how fast I'm advancing in life."
Jeno wants to laugh, but he knows this isn't real. He remembers the smell of the toast and the way the sun hit the wallpaper. He stays for just a second before pulling the door shut. "I'm coming back," he whispers to the empty hallway. "I need to get back to Y/n… she's waiting for me… Focus Jeno. Come on now… where is that door?"
He opens another door. It's a memory of a pet store. You are covered in dog fur, looking tired but happy. "Jeno, look," you say, pointing at some kittens.
He smiles, but it hurts his ghostly face. He doesn't know how long he's been here in his own mind filled with memories of his life… but he knows he's been here for a long time, looking through memories; some which he gladly stays to watch and others he quickly walks by. But within the past hours, he's been feeling an urgency to hurry up.
He closes doors, one after another, and the next, and the one after that. Each door is a piece of the life you built together after the loop incident. He knows he has to keep moving; he can't stay in the past. Some memories, he's too ashamed to look at- such as the ones where he had amnesia. He can see the look of sadness passing through your eyes in all those memories- and it's not something he likes to see.
Then, he stops at a door that feels warm. It feels like home. He steps inside.
Could this be it?
The air smells like a hospital, and he hears a sharp, thin cry. He watches a memory of himself from four years ago. You are in the hospital bed, gasping for air. You both thought there was only one baby.
"Wait," the doctor says in the memory. "There's another one. Help her, Dad, here she comes."
The Jeno in the memory looks like he might faint, but then he is holding them, two tiny babies wrapped in pink blankets.
"Auemi," the memory-Jeno whispers. Then he looks at the second baby. "And Jenny. Our little Jenny." He kisses your forehead and then kisses the girls. It was the happiest moment of his life. It was the moment the loop finally felt broken.
Jeno steps back into the white hallway. His heart is heavy with those names: Auemi and Jenny.
"I have to get out!" he gasps. He looks up and sees the lights starting to dim. The 'sun' in this hallway is setting, turning the walls a dark purple. He is running out of time. He can feel his connection to the real world getting thinner and thinner.
He starts to run. He passes doors of graduations and quiet dinners, but none of them are the exit. The shadows are getting longer, swallowing his memories one by one.
"Not yet!" he screams into the dark. "I'm not finished! I haven't seen the way out yet-"
But there is no handle. There is no lock. There is only the growing darkness and the distant, fading sound of a heart monitor's lonely beep.
The darkness isn’t cold… it's heavy, like being underwater. Jeno stands before the towering, skeletal tree and the clock with the humming, invisible hand. The ancient voice doesn't boom this time. It's a whisper that fills his skull, weary and patient.
"YOU HAVE REACHED THE BOUNDARY, LITTLE SPARK."
"I'm not ready," Jeno says, his voice cracking. He thinks of the tiny, milk-scented heads of Auemi and Jenny. He thinks of you sitting in that plastic chair, your spirit thinning like a worn-out silk ribbon. "Please, help me find the exit. I have to get back. Please."
The Being isn't visible, it's manifested itself as a tree. The air shifts causing the wind to blow over the trees so that it may speak. "THE LIFE YOU BUILT WAS A STOLEN FRAGMENT. YOU WERE ALLOWED TO LIVE, ONLY IF YOU SAVED HER LIFE. AND YOU HAVE. NOW YOU MUST GO-
"The hell? No. I'm not going."
"YOU WERE ONLY ALIVE BECAUSE OF GRACE, BUT JENO, YOU DIED THAT NIGHT."
"What night are you talking about? I didn't die- I just had amnesia-"
"THE FIRST NIGHT YOU MET Y/N. YOU DIED."
"What?"
Suddenly a door appears in front of the tree and slowly opens. Jeno doesn't need to step forward as he can see clearly. The dreams… or rather the loop he lived over and over again is no stranger to his memory… But this time, he sees that after picking you up from Jaemin's outrageous brutal kick out of the house, he drives you… to the tree… he recalls that peaceful talk you had with him, about how you wanted to change your life. And just as he's driving to his apartment… he accidentally crashed into a tree… He crashed it in a way that it saved you… he died… while you lived.
"That's not possible…"
"THE TRUCK WAS THE END, JENO, YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO DIE. EVERY YEAR SINCE HAS BEEN A DEBT."
"A debt to who?"
"TO YOURSELF. AND NOW FINALLY YOU ARE BEING SET FREE."
"Wait-" Jeno shakes his head. Understanding, but not wanting to understand, and it seems that the Being talking through the tree doesn't mind explaining for as long as Jeno asks. So Jeno gulps. "Please wait. Don't I get to see them? My family? My children… My Y/n?"
"DOWN THERE… IN THE ROOM OF WHITE WALLS… THE DEBT IS BEING SETTLED. THE PLUG HAS BEEN PULLED. NOT OUT OF MALICE, BUT OUT OF MERCY. THEY ARE LETTING YOU GO."
Jeno shakes his head. "What are you saying? Are you saying that I died and the only reason I was alive was to pay a debt to myself?"
"YES, YOU MADE A VOW TO BE THERE FOR HER UNTIL SHE WAS UP AND READY TO STAND ON HER OWN TWO FEET. SHE IS READY. AND NOW IT'S TIME FOR YOU TO GO TO. THANK YOU FOR YOUR SERVICE JENO."
Suddenly a sparkling and shining white door opens. Jeno back up, tears rapidly over his eyes. "No… Can't I at least stay… just to watch her? Please- I don't want to go-" Jeno cries.
"TO STAY IS TO WATCH HER WITHER. TO DIE IS TO LET HER BLOOM AGAIN."
"Is there no other option?" Jeno cries. "I didn't even tell her I love her- I miss her- please-"
The Great Tree shivers, its dry branches clattering like bone. "THERE IS A THIRD PATH. THE ONLY PATH WHERE YOU REMAIN ALIVE."
Jeno looks up, hope flare-lighting in his dark eyes. "Anything. I'll take it."
"IT'LL BE HELL FOR YOU. BUT IF YOU WANT, YOU MAY RETURN TO A MOMENT IN TIME THAT YOU THOUGHT WOULD LAST FOREVER." the voice rumbles, a note of warning beneath the floorboards of the world.
"A moment in time that I thoguht would last forever? You're talking about the loop?"
"FOR THE WORLD, LIFE WILL CONTINUE. Y/N AND JAEMIN, AND YOUR CHILDREN WILL LIVE ON. BUT FOR YOU, YOU WILL BE TRAPPED IN THE LOOP. IN THE LAST DAY WHERE YOU LIVED. TO THE MOMENT THE CLOCK STRUCK TEN A.M. AND THE GUNSHOT WOKE YOU UP. YOU WILL BE TRAPPED. THE LOOP WILL RESET EVERY TWENTY-FOUR HOURS. FOREVER. SHE WILL LIVE, AND YOU WILL BE WITH HER, BUT YOU WILL NEVER SEE YOUR DAUGHTERS GROW. YOU WILL NEVER GROW OLD. YOU WILL SIMPLY… BE IN THE LOOK. UNTIL THE END OF TIME."
Jeno freezes. The ultimatum hangs in the air like a guillotine.
"CHOOSE, SPARK. THE PEACE OF THE AFTERLIFE, LEAVING HER TO FIND A NEW PATH… OR THE ETERNITY OF THE LOOP, WHERE SHE IS SAFE-
"You mean where she dies every night… you want me… you want me to watch her die every night?"
"WHERE YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE WHO REMEMBERS."
Jeno closes his eyes. He sees the future he just left…. the one where he is a "ghost in a bed." He sees you at the pet store, tired but real. He sees the twins fifth birthday… he sees you happy. If he goes back to the loop, those girls will never exist. You will be a lawyer again, sharp and angry and "the bulldog," trapped in a single Thursday for the rest of eternity.
"You said… if I stay dead…" Jeno whispers, "She lives?"
"SHE CARRIES THE LESSONS YOU TAUGHT HER. SHE SURVIVES."
Jeno looks at the flickering door in the distance. He can hear the long, flat tone of the heart monitor. He can hear your jagged, broken sob… the sound of a woman who has finally, mercifully, let go.
He stands up, his hands shaking.
"If I could live in a single Thursday forever, would I? Even if it meant watching the person I love forget me a thousand times? Let me guess… I already made the decision to loop… that's why I kept looping in the first place. My future self selfishly chose to live…" He looks at the clock. "How could I do that… I can't take her life away just so I can have her. I can't trap her in a Thursday because I'm too selfish to leave."
"SO GO. DIE IN PEACE LITTLE SPARK."
Jeno bites his lip, the veins popping on the side of his head as he holds back his tears.
After awhile of reminiscing of the life he had with you, he turns away from the 'loop' door. Away. He walks toward the Great Tree, his heart heavy with a love that is finally, truly, selfless.
"She said when she died… she'd feel peace…" Jeno chokes out, his form beginning to dissolve into golden sparks.
The Being is silent as Jeno reaches out and touches the bark of the tree. The darkness isn't heavy anymore. It's warm.
-
In the hospital room, the flatline continues. You are hunched over Jeno's hand, your forehead resting on his knuckles. Tears streaming down your face.
But then, the air in the room shifts when the warmth leaves his hands. You hold onto your stomach… Your sob echoes all the way down the hallway. You look up at his face. He's gone, but for the first time in four years, his expression isn't blank. He looks like he just achieved a goal. And with that, you shut your eyes in remembrance. He told you... to not live for anyone else. But for yourself. Even though Jaemin opened doors and assisted you. You won't allow yourself to be treated any different from how you treat yourself.
Request: Would you do one where a shy Hufflepuff is Fred and George’s soulmate? Maybe they are connected somehow like a song or marks or something and it takes them a while to find her because she’s so reserved but they end up bumping into her and finding out?
It was common knowledge within the wizarding world that the age of twelve was the most common to find your soulmate. You weren't sure why twelve was the magic number, but you were never the type to question to origins of magic. What you were sure of that twelve passed by with no soulmate to speak of, then thirteen, and then fourteen. It was in your fourteenth year of life that you had given up the notion of having a soulmate altogether. Your parents had found each other even before going to Hogwarts and you had now been lapped by your younger sibling who had matched their first year.
Your parents marks glowed golden on their pinkies - a lifelong reminder of the most important pinkie promise they ever made. Your brother's soulmark was a simple streak on his shoulder from where he brushed against his soulmate waiting on the sorting ceremony.
Before you first touched your soulmate, the mark on your skin was just a dark patch. Muggles that fell in love with wizards or witches often just mistook the patch for a birthmark. The marks on your skin, however, could never be mistaken for anything but a soulmark. You had two marks that were completely separate from the other. The first was a line around your waist and the second a handprint from mouth to ear. The line on the waist could always be a hug from behind. It was easy enough to believe. But the hand print? You tried to keep the worst out of your mind.
It had been four years since you had given up on your soulmate. Exams were just around the corner and then you were out. You were quite tempted to just move into the muggle world and never have to deal with the concept of a soulmate again. You'd marry someone who, even though they weren't your soulmate, treated you well. And wouldn't that be enough in the end?
With that thought in your mind, you turned in your final examination to Professor Umbridge, who you were quite sure never even got a soulmark as it seemed impossible that anyone could love her. A huge wave of relief washed over you as you exited the Great Hall and, just for a moment, you allowed your eyes to close and a deep breath to escape your lungs. It was over.
Your moment was short lived as a chorus of "Get down!" rang out behind you, before a set of arms wrapped around you, yanking you to the ground. Your body slammed against the rough ground, but your head was caught before it hit by another set of hands. Still, your heart raced as you tried to catch your breath.
"Shit," one of the voices said - the one with his arms around you. He transitioned from holding onto you to rubbing your back. "We are so so sorry."
"We let out fireworks. Thought the coast was clear but obviously we were wrong," the other voice said, hand still supporting your face. "Here, let us help you up," he offered. You had barely made it upright when the boy in front of you began to scowl. "Fuck, Umbridge," he seethed. "I'm sorry but we have to go."
Instead of leaving you, the boy pulled you along. The other tailing closely behind. "What are you doing?" you asked.
"Unfortunately, you're an accomplice now and we're about to be caught."
"Accomplice? I just met you!"
"Yeah? Explain that to Umbridge over a hot cup of tea and a puddle of blood. You should be thanking me!"
It wasn't until you made what felt like four laps around the castle before you quit running. You didn't even know where you were and you had been attending Hogwarts for seven years. All you know was that you were in a tiny broom closet with two boys you just met.
"Lumos," one of the boys spoke, and you finally got a good look at their faces. You rolled your eyes. You should have known it was the Weasley twins. You had never really met the two but the entire school knew of the mischief they caused. It had been far too easy for you to steer clear of them up to this point.
"Fred," the twin on the left, George, asked quietly. Fred was looking down at his hand, then up to you. In the dim light you could barely notice the golden glow that now shone on his hand.
"It's you," he spoke gently.
"What do you mean?" you asked, eyebrows furrowed.
Hesitantly, Fred reached his hand up to your face, placing it where it had been only moments ago. "You're golden," he smiled.
"My whole life I was wondering how I would get those marks," I laughed. "I always feared the worst, just because of where they are. Did you feel the same way?"
He shook his head. "I always just assumed it would be a handshake."
You rolled your eyes. "A handshake wouldn't give you this, though." You pulled up the other sleeve of his robes - nothing. No mark whatsoever adorned him. "That doesn't make any sense." When your eyes rose up to meet Fred's, he was looking beside you, at his twin, whose forearm revealed the missing piece of the puzzle. He, too, glowed gold.
Franklin x Reader || Soulmate!AU || Red String of Fate
|| Words: 9k || 18+ ONLY || Cross-posted on AO3 || Warnings: Death, blood, description of violence. Author making medical shit up because who cares about reality.
part II - part III - part IV - part V
The string is darker.
That’s the first thing Franklin noticed once he arrived in York New.
It used to be its typical light, nearly white, pink. Now it was redder.
Definitely redder.
Scowling, Franklin glared at the offending twine tied around his pinky, dread settling in his gut.
Not good.
This wasn’t good.
And it only got worse once he and the other Troupe members got on the hot-air balloon heading towards the York New auction.
As casually, as inconspicuous as he could, he took chanced glances at the string, fist clenching as it rapidly darkened to a scarlet red… both deeper, richer in hue and brighter than it had ever been.
Always semi-conscious of its colour, Franklin constantly stayed vigilant when it came to the shade of his string, practically obsessed over keeping it light, and to see it change so drastically set his nerves on edge.
He did not intend to ever meet his soulmate, as they would simply be a burden to him.
He was a thief. Franklin found pleasure in torture and watching the life drain from his victim’s eyes and adding a weak soulmate into the mix would complicate matters further. Dragging a soulmate along would mean taking care of them, protecting them, and no part of him jumped with joy at the prospect of having to do so. His world was grimy, bitter, violent… not a place for a weak little thing to annoyingly cling to him, worried and scared and most likely disgusted.
Which is why he always made sure the string stayed as pale as it could.
It had only darkened past pink once, and it pissed Franklin off so much he ditched the mission he’d been on—the others were more than capable of handling it by themselves—and proceeded to travel across several continents, only able to breathe a heavy sigh of relief days later when it became pale again.
Unfortunately, Franklin couldn’t abandon this mission since he’d be playing a key role.
And to be fair, with his shoulders as tense as they were and his jaw clenched so tight it hurt, Franklin needed to use the opportunity of killing all those auction-goers as a bit of respite.
“Why the face, Franklin?”
Franklin snapped his gaze away from his left hand and up to Shalnark, only to find all the other members staring right back at him too.
“Huh?”
“You look mad—”
“—He always looks mad.”
Shalnark brushed Uvogin’s comment aside and pressed on, coming right into his space, bending slightly. Knowing what the blond attempted to do, Franklin curled his wrist, concealing his pinky. Exposing his dilemma would do him no good.
“Is it your string?”
Franklin sighed, annoyed. “Leave me alone.”
“It’s gotten darker… hasn’t it?”
He squeezed his hands into fist, gritting his teeth, “Shalnark…”
“I noticed it earlier when we were leaving. Is that what’s got you on edge?”
Franklin deflated. The fight in him, which had simmered at the surface, fizzled out as quickly as it arrived. He could tell the blond to fuck off and mind his own business—it wouldn’t be the first time—but as they hovered across the city skyline and a tingle prickled at his pinky, something told Franklin, deep in his gut, that he wouldn’t be able to escape his destiny tonight.
And in the tight confines of the hot-air balloon, so high up he could barely make out the people walking below, he couldn’t escape Shalnark without probably breaking most of the bones in his body or dying from the impact with the cold, hard ground.
He raised his hand, the string now a startling crimson red, the type of red from trailing blood splatters on walls. The colour pure, enticing and utterly terrifying.
“Woah…” Shalnark’s eyes practically sparkled at the sight, the others just as curious. “Has it ever been this red before?”
“No.” Replied Franklin dryly, dropping his arm back to his side.
Uvogin motioned to his hand. “You wanna go find them before shit goes down? Might not have another chance after this.”
The question soured the lining of his stomach, made him grimace. “No. Not unless they’re at the auction.”
If Franklin still had the ability to cry, he would have the second they landed on the roof of the theatre.
The string around his pinky darkened even further.
They were here.
They were at the auction.
“How d’you wanna go ‘bout it?” Asked Uvogin as the group made their way across the roof, towards the door leading inside.
Franklin, who maned the front, paused, turning to face the others. “I’m going to find them. Once I do and get rid of this,” he lifted his hand to show the string and then flatly set it down back at his side, “I’ll need someone to knock ‘em out.”
“Why?”
He turned his attention to Shizuku, brow raised at the stupidity of the question, while she just blinked up dumbly at him. He barely knew Shizuku, as she’d been a recent addition to the group, but from the brief interactions they’d shared, he couldn’t say she was the sharpest person out there. Her only redeeming quality was her Hatsu.
“I can’t have any of you kill them,” Franklin explained flatly, resuming his way to the door. “Who ever ends up closest to them will knock ‘em out and then stash them somewhere so they won’t get accidentally hurt.”
“And after?”
Franklin ripped the door off its hinges, fist denting the steel material as he chucked it to the side. Glancing towards Uvogin, Franklin shook his head. “And after? Nothing. We leave.”
At his side, Shalnark hummed, “Right… forgot you’re weird about the whole soulmate thing.”
Franklin didn’t dignify that comment with a reply, forging ahead down the stairs.
Inside, everyone casually went to their posts while Franklin walked around the auction hall, following his string.
They really were here… the reality of what was about to happen really sunk in as he reached the second floor. The once small piece of string tied around his pinky now extended in a single direction, the colour of rich, fine wine, guiding him straight to his soulmate. It never got to this point before, where he was close enough that his string and theirs linked up to bring the two of them together.
He hoped, a large part of him hoped, that they were a part of the elite mafia society that were bold enough to show themselves out in the open tonight, as it would mean they’d possess at least a tiny bit of strength, that they would be somewhat resilient and acclimated to the more gruesome aspect of life—of his life.
But he wasn’t so lucky.
He ventured down to the first floor and followed the string until he reached an area where patrons could order drinks and mingle before the start of the auction, and it was there that he spotted his soulmate… spotted you.
You were dressed in a fancy black suit, much like him, hair away from your face as you worked.
That’s right, you weren’t attending the auction like he’d originally thought and by the looks of it, you definitely weren’t mafia. No, that would have been too kind.
You worked at the theatre, behind the bar, chatting lowly with the man next to you, rapidly stacking dirty drinks on a tray. So simple… so small… so normal…
You screamed normality and weakness.
That little bubble of hope Franklin kept hidden deep in the corner of his mind shattered the second he saw you, as he realised that he’d been right in his choice to avoid you all this time. You would never be able to survive in his world.
Then, his heart skipped a beat.
You froze in your place, looking frantically around the bar, looking for something, for someone… for him and all the while, Franklin stood in place, waiting with bated breath. He really should leave; he should turn his back around, have Shizuku and Phinks deal with you and disappear without a trace.
But he didn’t.
A part of him needed to take as much of you in as he could; your beauty, your smile, your charm… all things that he would never get to experience himself.
Only this one time.
Franklin would get his fill of you now and then bury the memory for later.
From the slope of your nose to the curve of your cheek.
From the arch of your brows to the line of your jaw.
You were beautiful. He found you so completely beautiful. Simple and breathtaking at the same time. Perfect. Too good for this world—his world.
He would be the death of you.
Franklin stood perfectly still, hands loosely hanging at his side, his pinky finger twitching.
Slowly, ever so slowly, you turned in his direction, your gaze immediately locking with his.
He watched as you wavered in your stance, glasses on your tray clinking dangerously together, no doubt startled by the instant connection intertwining your souls into one. Your eyes, which, even from a distance, Franklin knew were captivating, widened and your mouth—ever so inviting—dropped open in awed bewilderment.
The string licking the two of you blackened then burst into light, the thread fizzling from the centre, disintegrating until it reached both of your pinkies, replacing the twine with a white band forever etched into your skin, forever binding the two of you together.
And while you scrambled to place your tray down, to rush to him and bask in the glow of finally finding each other, Franklin pushed the mounting desires festering within him down and away, taking one last look at his pinky, the string now gone then turned on his heel.
Away from you.
Away from your bond.
He was free now.
His nose wrinkled as he heard you shout for him to wait, already halfway down the hall, your voice not quite what he imagined yet still as inviting as the rest of you seem to be.
Despite the harsh yearning in his gut, Franklin continued to forge ahead, knowing that this was what was best for the both of you.
You’d never be able to live in his world.
Once he turned the corner of the hall, he felt you approaching quickly and knew, then, that it was time to disappear. In the blink of an eye, he was gone, using his incredible speed to reach backstage of the amphitheatre where Feitan awaited him, the headless bodies of the announcers being sucked up by Shizuku.
“I found her.” The best course of action here was to get straight to the point. The auction would start in ten minutes and soon, everyone here would die.
Everyone stopped what they were doing to look at him.
“Oh! What’s she like!?”
Franklin ignored Shalnark’s over enthusiasm.
“She’s a waiter here, works behind the bar.” He proceeded to describe you, the shade of your skin, and the colour of your hair, your height, everything… down to how weak and defenceless you were. To Phinks and Shizuku, who would clear out the outside part of the first floor, Franklin added pointedly, “Do not kill her.”
-
All day… all day you fidgeted, excitedly watching the ever so pale shade of pink tainting your string get redder and redder, darker and darker as time progressed. It changed colour while you ate, while you got ready for your shift and darkened explicitly so once you arrived at work.
“I bet they’re loaded.” Christian, one of your closest friends and coworker, practically squealed, fiddling with your pinky. “Oh girl, you’re gonna be rich after this!”
You rolled your eyes, trying to not show your own excitement. You both spoke in hushed tones, working as quickly as you could to make drinks for pompous, impatient members of high society. “Don’t get carried away—don’t get me carried away. They could be a mafia grunt or a hunter or just a bodyguard.”
Christian huffed, waving you off. “Please don’t break my fantasy.”
Snorting, you shook your head and gave the woman in front of you her drink. You and Christian had spent the majority of your shift so far fawning over your string, over how you and your soulmate would meet, if you even would meet, and how they would look like. And now, watching the string get impossibly dark, darker than it ever had your entire life, watching the string link with your soulmate’s, you could barely keep it together.
It took more concentration than needed to walk around the bar picking up empty glasses, your hand unsteady and shaking.
Back behind the bar, just as you felt the weight pile on, you felt it.
They were here.
You could feel them staring.
Looking around into the sea of dwindling patrons, you couldn’t spot anyone with a red string. No one around caught your eye, made your breath hitch and your mind go foggy like you’d always dreamed they would…
Until they did.
In the corner of your eye, you spotted your string pointing right and your heart leapt in your throat.
The second you saw him; you knew you would never be the same again.
There he stood, your soulmate, a mountain of a man with silky purple hair and a beautiful, scared face. He was enormous, probably the biggest man you’d ever seen and utterly breathtaking despite the terrifying aura encircling him, stealing the air straight from your lungs and leaving you in awe.
“Holy shit…”
You couldn’t help but stare, amazed, at the way your string linked to his pinky, the way it turned to the colour of night then went bright, elation overflowing your every nerve once the thread began to disintegrate, showing that you’d finally met your soulmate, the bond you two shared now solidified into the universe forever.
Without skipping a beat, you put the heavy tray you’d been holding up at your side down, ignoring the way liquid splashed around and dribbled on your hand, on the ground and how you definitely broke one glass.
None of that mattered right now.
What mattered was going to your soulmate who… who was leaving?
You didn’t notice Christian calling for you as you slipped behind the bar, weaving through patrons, gaze never leaving the insanely broad span of your soulmate’s shoulders as he retreated down the hall.
“Wait!” you called, bursting into a sprint after him. “I said wait, please!”
Four of your steps were one of his, his pace no match for yours, but still, you doubled down, pursuing him with everything you had. You wouldn’t let this chance pass through your fingers again; you wouldn’t idly wait for him anymore. How could you, after waiting for so many years; hoping, dreaming of this very day…?
You could almost reach him as he turned down the hall, your fingers so close you could feel the pulsing heat of his skin on your outstretched arm. But just as you followed him past the corner, you faltered in your step, skidding to a halt.
He was gone. Your soulmate was gone.
He’d been right there… so close you could hear vividly each heavy thump of his footsteps, feel him, smell the sickly richness of his cologne, take in the sheer massiveness of him and now… and now there was nothing. He was somehow gone, leaving you to stand dumbly alone in the middle of an empty hallway.
You stood there, unmoving, gawking like an idiot at the spot where he should have been for much longer than necessary, your brain taking its time processing what just happened.
Briefly, you wondered if you imagined the whole thing, if you’d gone crazy, but looking down at your pinky—white band replacing the string you were born with—you knew you hadn’t.
No… there was no imagining the sensation of that man’s soul finally merging with yours. The raw, unadulterated want that coursed through your veins the second you locked eyes with him. How you knew he was yours without ever knowing his identity, his name, anything.
He was real.
You met your soulmate.
And now he was gone.
In a daze, solemn and confused, you found your way back to the bar, eyes glazed over at the stinging rejection. Because that’s what it was, right…? Your soulmate had rejected you.
“Girl, what the hell was all that about—” The sass in Christian’s voice died the second he saw the heartbreak in your eyes, the wobble in your lip, his gaze lasering straight to your pinky. “Oh sweetheart…” You hated the pity dripping from his tone. “What happened?”
Blinking, you stared at him, empty. “Nothing.” You stated plainly, feeling the agonising tear as your heart broke in half. “Absolutely nothing—I… I don’t want to talk about it.”
Before he could say anything, you heaved the now fully tray of dirty glasses on your shoulders, ignoring your friend’s protest, disappearing in the back, not in the mood for his prodding questions. It was humiliating. You were humiliated and now, all you wanted to do was forget about the whole thing.
After handing the cleaners the tray, you took a moment to take a breath, harshly digging the heels of your palms against your lids while trying not to cry.
You wanted this for so long, you’d wanted him for so long you couldn’t bear it.
Your entire childhood was spent fantasising about the day you’d meet your soulmate and what your future would look like. You’d been so damn excited, desperately wanting your own little slice of paradise. You saw and envied what your parents, family members and friends had. And you’d wanted it too, more than anyone else, having spent the first year out of high school blowing through all the money you tirelessly slaved over to save with the sole purpose of finding them… Only to come back home dejected and with an empty bank account, never having gotten close enough to your soulmate for the string to get passed a vermillion shade of red.
Everyone then spent months trying to make light of the situation; your parents, Christian and your shared friends attempting anything they could to distract you from the ache of coming home empty-handed and all alone.
Often, you focused on how the string had changed colour, to a beautiful amaranth shade, spiraled over it some days, as it became the darkest you’d ever seen the string get in 18 years. It became your favourite colour for a while, despite it tainted by the circumstances.
It marked having gotten semi-close to your soulmate for the first time.
You wondered if they had noticed, if they had cared, if their stomach fluttered like yours and excitement made their veins fizzle to life.
A darker part of you, one that only appeared at night with the solace embrace of stillness and darkness, when your thoughts rang loud and sucked you deep in a pathetic, self-deprecating loop, if this entire situation was pre-designed to make you as miserable, as desperate as possible.
After that trip, the string never changed from its typical baby-pink, like you were being sent a message from the powers above.
Turns out you were.
Now you knew why.
Neither the universe nor fate held any responsibility, twisted the threads of your life to keep you away from your greatest desire, from your other half. No, they had nothing to do with any of this and you’d been right. Your loneliness was pre-design—forced upon you just not by the universe and not by fate either.
More devastating still… it came from your soulmate
He just didn’t want you.
The heals of your palms on your eyes pressed until it hurt, until you saw the webs connecting the world together, the stars behind your lids and took in a big intake of air, filling your lungs fully, exhaling slowly while realising the poignant ache in your heart.
Then you squared your shoulders, hardened your gaze and went back to work.
You couldn’t afford to slack off.
Back in the bar, you buried yourself in work, ignoring Christian’s worried glances as you wiped down counters with maybe a little too much gusto, brought clients their drinks and laid on the charm so thick you reeked of honey and you felt ill. You needed a distraction, which work graciously provided. And if you were going to power through this hellish night, you were at least going to come out of it with as much tip-money as you could.
It worked, somehow, over-investing yourself in your tasks and in the patrons, taking your focus away from the heartbreak enough for the minutes to tick by rapidly. On one trip back from the kitchen, you stuttered to a halt and gawked, finding the once busy bar completely empty.
“Auction’s about to start…” said Christian gently; spotting your confused face, “everyone’s gone.”
You blinked, and then nodded, joining his side. You could feel him burning a hole in the side of your face, desperate to cheer you up.
You didn’t want it.
Neither his sympathy, nor his pity, or whatever justification he would conjure up to make you feel better about the very cutting rejection could change the outcome of things. Nothing would work. Nothing could fix the pain in your heart.
The two of you stood side-by-side, cleaning glasses spotless in relative silence when Christian spoke up once again. “Two more incoming.”
You looked up to find a man with slicked back dirty blond hair and a mean-looking mug alongside a meek, unassuming woman, her short black hair flaring away from her face. “I’ll let you handle this one.” You told him; a dull, knowing smirk curling at your lips. “He’s definitely your type.”
Christian hummed appreciatively, though you were unsure if it was because of your comment or because he enjoyed the view of the man approaching you two with a sort of menacing, yet effortlessly swagger. “Oh definitely. That man is gorgeous.”
Snickering, you let him do his thing while you busied yourself.
“Hey handsome, what can I get for ya?”
A silhouette crossed the corner of your eye and looking up; you found the blond man behind the bar, “Hey, you can’t be—”
The man stared back, blank, large hands reaching around Christian’s head.
“Wh-What are you do—”
Neither of you had the time to say much as you watched, horrified as the man twisted Christian’s head to the side, detaching it from his spine with a sickening, deafening crack.
His vertebrae stuck out of his neck.
You could see his spine…
The bumps and ridges…
Dear god you could see the exact outline of his spine poking through his tan skin.
Fear wrecked you as Christian’s body fell to the ground, your eyes widening. They filled with tears the second the man’s golden eyes shifted to you, empty of any humanity, rooting you in place and petrifying you straight to your core.
Trembling, you slowly, ever so slowly, raised your hands in the air in silent surrender, a whimper slipping past your lips, every muscle in your body tensing, your limbs jumping when you heard his fists cracking at his side, felt the heaviness of his deadly strength as he stepped towards you.
Looking at the man proved too difficult, too terrifying. Somehow, just with a mere glance up close, you could sense his detachment from his actions, his complete and utter indifference towards you as a person. You were nothing to this man, nothing more than a speck of dirt on his shoe and you couldn’t stand it, couldn’t stand that—by how effortlessly he killed your best friend—he had every right to feel that way.
Unblinking, you shifted your sight down.
This proved to be a mistake as your gaze instantly met Christian’s limp body at your feet, his eyes empty of life, of a soul, as they stared ahead, a trickle of blood dripping down through slightly parted lips.
A whimper punched out of your throat.
Nausea bubbled in your stomach, the fog in your brain grew thicker and thicker, blurring the edges of your vision as it tried to process what you’d just witness, while it tried to process the inevitability of your imminent death.
You stared… you stared until your sight went blurry, until the dam of unshed tears finally broke free, until you couldn’t contain the wobble in your lip anymore.
Then your conscious was finally brought back to reality.
Christian was dead…
He was alive a second ago and now…
“Think that’s Franklin’s soulmate?” You heaved a sob at the sound of the man’s voice, echoing in the eerie, deathly silence of the auction hall. A shiver ran down your spine as you felt another presence right behind you, the words not registering as fear seized your every nerve to a level so heightened you could no longer feel a thing.
You shook and silently cried, teeth gritting painfully together, the lump in your throat constricting your windpipe. The woman you had previously thought bland pressed right up behind you, her power just as overpowering as the man’s. And that’s all you could focus on… the weight of their aura crushing you from both sides.
You couldn’t breathe.
Feeling her body heat right up against your cowering back, you stayed still, not daring to move or even look away from the monster before you, too afraid that with one miniscule twitch, they would decide to sentence you to the same fate as Christian
Sickly warm fingers gripped your chin, hard, so hard you whimpered. “Seems like it. Fits the description.”
You wept; spit pooling at the corners of your mouth while unconsciously blubbering incoherent nonsense under your breath. The man reached forward and gripped your wrist, wrenching you to him so hard you felt something snap in your shoulder. At the pain, you buckled, screamed, your footing knocked into Christian’s dead body.
The man wasted no time in shutting you up, his free hand immediately slapping over your mouth to muffle the sound of your voice. He squeezed your wrist enough for the bone to shatter in half, the hand over your mouth pushing into your skin with so much strength your teeth felt like they caved in, your neck twisted at an ungodly level.
You howled; eyes clenched tight at the gut-wrenching agony erupting in your wrist, your bubbling snot mixing with the endless stream of tears coating your face.
As you reeled from the pain, trying to gain a semblance of sentience, the man inspected your left hand.
You sputtered, babbled as he eyed the white band around your pinky, begging pointlessly for your life… like that would make any kind of difference.
“P-Please…” you sobbed, weak knees nearly giving under your weight. He wrenched you upwards, his face unreadable as he analysed you. “I—I don’t, please… please…”
The man ignored you. “It’s definitely her.”
“Ok, I’ll knock her out now—”
“—Wait.” You didn’t hear the man’s words as he spoke next, your eyes bulging out of your sockets at the realisation of what the woman behind you said. He asked you something, though the words drowned in the sea of your panicked, frantic thoughts.
Faintly, you registered warmth trickling down your leg.
You’d urinated on yourself.
Pathetic.
Rejected by your soulmate and now, now you would die a worthless death—your life having held no meaning—covered in your own piss.
“Ah fuck it. She’s clearly out of it.” The man finished, brushing by you without sparing another glance back. The glass in your hand slipped from your fingers, exploding into dust at your side, shards of crystal embedding themselves in Christian’s skin. “I’ll clear out the back; you knock her out and put her somewhere. And remember, yea? Not too hard. Franklin wants her alive.”
You barely had the time to let out a desperate, wailing cry, let alone process what was just said before you felt something connect with the back of your head, the world going dark.
-
Throbbing…
Your skull throbs.
Muffled voices ring in your ears, drowned out by the pounding at the top of your head.
“Is she alive?”
“Yes, sir. Only one that made it.”
Your limbs ache, resting heavily in heaps at your side. You want to move, say something, anything, but all you can feel is the tether slowly pulling your sanity down into the gutter.
“Lady… Hey lady… Can you hear me?” There’s a tapping on the side of your cheek. You don’t feel it, but strangely enough, you know it’s there.
Why can’t you feel anything?
You mumble something incoherent, not that you’re even aware that you’re trying to speak, breaths coming out long and drawn, like your lungs have just grown conscious that they must keep you alive, that they have a function and now that they have this conscious, they have forgotten how to do their job, panicking. You struggle to breathe. Your lungs won’t let you breathe and it hurts whenever a lick of air goes down your throat.
“Hey… Hey, you’re alright—dammit. Someone got a flashlight?”
You don’t know where you are; you don’t know what’s going on. The muffled voices grow louder, clearer; they feel like a stab in the head anytime one pipes up.
The sources of the voices annoy you; you need them to be quiet. You try to tell them to shut up, but your brain’s been scrambled, fried by hot-white furious pain and can’t process your clouded thoughts to your mouth. “Ah… ma… mmhamna…”
There’s a slight pressure on your eyelid and in the next second, you find yourself completely blinded.
You want to throw up.
“N…n-no…”
“She’s got a blown pupil in the left eye.” The voice mumbles under its breath, cursing, but to your ears, it feels like it’s shouting, trying to burst your ear drum. You whimper, shy away, but the agony that follows tears a dry, weak cry from your paling lips. “Lady, don’t move alright?”
“Sir…”
“What?”
“Sir… look.” The man at your side turns off the flashlight and glances up to where his underling is pointing, face grim as the space on the wall behind your head that opened up when you twitched slightly reveals a worrying amount of blood.
The man curses, “Did someone call an ambulance?”
“Uh, no… but we can do that n—”
“—Do it now,” he hisses, “this girl’s the only one those fuckers kept alive. We need her alive.”
“I’ll get right on it, sir.”
You want to die. Everything hurts so much you can’t stand it.
Your legs prickle, as if they’re being stung by a thousand needles simultaneously, twitching ever-so-slightly where they lay on the ground. As for your arms… well, they tingle too, like there are ants trudging along irritatingly under your flesh. Attempting to raise them bares fruitless, the only movement you manage is a small twitch of your fingers.
And all the while, you don’t realise that you’re mumbling sounds under your ragged breath, drool gathering at the corners of your lips.
There’s a loud ringing and this time, you manage to get enough power in your vocal cords to voice your complaint, screeching at the sound. Your head falls limply in the crook of your shoulder as you tried to get away from the sound and you go quiet, the small movement, the small sound of protest draining you of what little energy you have remaining.
“Yea?... What!?... Shit—ok, ok. We’ll be right there. No… they’re all gone ma’am… Yes… Only one survivor…”
Be quiet. The words weigh on your tongue, but your mind cannot voice them into existence. The voices hurt, they hurt so much. They put pressure on your skull, suffocating your brain which is pounding against it for release. It’s agonising, and all you can do is sit there and cry while you wait for death’s mighty scythe to claim your soul.
“Those fuckers are escaping.”
“Wh-What!? Where?”
“Headed towards Gordeau Desert, looks like.” The man sighs and looks down at you. You’re a mess. He doesn’t know how you survived; or why you survived but here you are, verging on the brink of death.
Everyone surrounding you concludes that they need to keep you alive, as you’re the only one who may have answers as to what happened here. No one knows where the merchandise went, nor what happened to the guests. They’re all gone, vanished without a trace like a fart in the wind, but you… You’re alive. “Sullivan, Tanaka, Byng, you stay here. Make sure she stays alive long enough for the paramedics to get here. The rest of you, let’s go. We’re not gonna let those scumbags get away with this.”
More pounding follows suit and you whimper, a tear dripping down your face as you quietly weep.
You feel warmth at the back of your neck.
“H-Hey… You’re… Fuck off, I don’t know what to say—Miss, everything’s going to be ok.” A weight settles on your shoulder, making you tip to the side. Your head drags against the wall more, blood oozing from your skull in thick rivets, painting the wall in an eerie tapestry of red.
The warmth spreads to your shoulders and down your back.
“Fuck…”
“Dammit Tanaka, don’t touch her! You might paralyse her!”
“I… I barely did anything!”
“Relax, Sullivan. She’ll be fine.”
“Not if Tanaka keeps touching her—”
“—I’m trying to reassure her! She’s freaking out!”
“Enough… both of you. From now on, keep your hands to yourself and just make sure she keeps breathing.”
A huff. “Won’t matter if she can breathe if she ends up brain-dead.”
Brain-dead… Were you suffering from brain damage? Was that why your head felt like it was being spilt in half?
You often had the dark conversations with friends, with family about what you’d want them to do if you ever ended up in a brain-dead, vegetative state, never really believing it might become a reality, your reality. But the voices are saying that it might be a possibility now?
No.
No…
How could this happen?
Your lungs struggle to take in air, expulsing any atom of oxygen as soon as they enter your system in an instance. You are suddenly filled with panic, your limbs starting to shake.
You don’t want to die.
Not like this. Not now. Not yet.
“N-No… p… ease… no…”
“Ah, shit…”
“You think she can hear us?” Heat cupped your face tenderly, “Lady. Hey lady, can you hear me?”
‘Yes!’ You want to shout, but the only sounds you are able to produce come out as garbled mumbled nonsense.
“How long ‘til the ambulance gets here?”
“They said three minutes… so they should be here right about now. Sullivan, go wait outside.”
“You hear that, Miss? You’re going to be ok.”
As soon as your brain registers those words, it finally decides to let go of any morsel of control it has over your consciousness. Your once trembling limbs begin to shake, jerk violently, enough for the man at your side to shuffle backwards out of the way. Your back locks, stiffens, tilting your body to the side, dragging your head even more across the wall as you fall to the ground.
The world goes dark after that, your eyes—which could barely stay open—roll to the back of your head, foam frothing at the corners of your lips…
“Dammit she’s seizing!”
-
Slicked back dirty blond hair…
Soulless eyes…
Sounds of cracking knuckles…
Christian standing beside you, his head bent at an ungodly angle and completely detached from his spine…
You woke with a start, with your back curled as pain seared in the back of your head. It took a moment, but your cries finally alerted your parents and the staff out in the corridor that you’d awoken.
It took a long time for them to calm you down. In fact, they weren’t really able to, forced, for the sake of your recovery, to put you back under for a while.
And the next time your consciousness returned to you, eyes managing to pry themselves open, exhausted and consumed by a crushing ache encompassing your entire body, you were told what happened.
You came in with extensive head trauma—a fractured skull and a substantial brain bleed. It was a miracle that you survived, the doctors explained, and had any cognitive ability. The paramedics arrived just in time to stop the heavy flow of bleeding and control temporarily your seizures; of which you suffered several on the way to the hospital. The surgery went fine despite the damages. And, from the neurological test the doctor made you undergo, it seemed like, miraculously, you would make a full recovery.
No loss of mobility functions, no impaired speech or vision or any type of cognitive defects… you’d be fine.
They also had to reset your shoulder and reconstructed your wrist. The break was clean, a few months in a cast and you’d be good as new after that.
You were fine.
You were going to be fine
Or so they thought.
You came out of surgery and remained in a coma for a few weeks while your body adjusted to brain surgery and the operations on your wrist, and they intended to keep you at the hospital for a bit longer while you recuperated. A couple for weeks at most if no new problems appeared.
Your parents remained at your side while you healed, while you tried to keep yourself afloat, the only ones allowed to stay by your side as you gathered back your strength.
Then, later on, you were permitted visitors, and the amount of people that pooled in frightened you in the beginning.
The first people that showed up were men in suits, at least five of them, sliding into your room the one time of day your parents were out. A move you knew was calculated. They’d crowded your bed, serious expressions on their faces as they bombarded you with questions about that night… if you remembered who attacked you, how many you saw, why they kept you alive out of everyone.
Often, your days were spent quietly trying to piece back the events of that night while desperately trying to bury others. But the memories were unclear, like your brain wiped them away in order to protect you, and that’s what you told the men, apologising for not being able to be much help.
One of them had sighed, stared vacantly out the window.
And after a beat, he then proceeded to tell you what really happened.
The Phantom Troupe attacked the auction, stealing the merchandise and somehow making all the attendees that night disappear.
All except you.
You’d stiffen in bed at the mention of the Troupe, having heard whispers of their horrible deeds, the type of twisted, sick people they were. But naively, you just thought them a fairy tale, a mere urban legend, a story conjured by bored housewives to scare their kids in order to keep them in line. How naïve indeed had you been…
And now, knowing that they were the ones who put you in here, that you somehow managed to come face-to-face with them and survive made you want to throw up.
To make matters worse, the men put a piece of paper on your lap, asked if any of the people looked familiar…
The second you saw him, your stomach churned, and you turned your head to the side, vomiting.
That cut the visit short, the nurses shooing the men away while they tried to get you to breathe, to stop crying, to stop screeching long enough to calm down.
But you couldn’t calm down, couldn’t stop crying, trying to shake that night out of your mind.
You told the men you hadn’t remembered anything relevant because that was the truth… but not entirely so.
That voice… you’d never be able to forget that voice.
You couldn’t remember his face. Even with the wanted pictures of the Troupe members in front of you, you weren’t quite sure who he was, but what you did remember was his voice. Dead, lifeless, not too harsh or deep yet stern, commanding, terrifying… the voice of a man who long lost any once of his humanity.
The things he said to you that night were a mystery, fragmented pieces scattered far and wide across the expense of your subconscious. They were gone, your brain desperately trying to protect your own sanity, but never truly forgotten, haunting your nightmares. Its clutches sunk deep it within soul, keeping a vice grip on it, making sure that you forgot, yes, but never completely.
And Christian.
How you wish you could forget what the man with the voice did.
You could still hear the sound of Christian’s head severing from his spine. You could still see the way his spine had poked against his skin, trying to pierce its way out as his head lolled to the side, and the thump… dull ‘thump’ as his body crumbled to the ground. Dead. The twinkle in his eyes gone, only to leave behind a gateway into nothing.
A foggy spot had made its way in your left eye, accompanied by a sharp, agonising stabbing sensation starting from your nape, rapidly spreading to the rest of your skull. The pain made your back curl at an ungodly angle, limbs locking and twitching erratically… the puzzle pieces slipping together while your life unraveled further apart.
But there was something else too.
The one thing you remembered, clear as day, other than Christian, was your soulmate.
The same man as in one of those pictures.
Every part of him and his essence branded into your memory… from the harsh line of his jaw, to the dangling earlobes and the clipped, fluffy purple hair you had ached, in the moment, to drag your fingers through. The seriousness in his light brown gaze rested over your heart like a ghostly chill; the scars on his face and the stitches around his mouth occupied your thoughts with theories on how he got them in the first place.
You remembered him… you remembered all of him in his massive, ginormous glory.
He’d taken your breath away without even trying, simply by standing there, existing… only to crush your soul to dust as he left you—abandoned you behind to rot.
After that, the events went all fuzzy and distorted.
You suffered another seizure as the men left, the first crack making its appearance.
You woke some time later alone with a headache and a heavy weight over your heart. While not too sure how or when night came to greet you, you’d sat there and mulled over what the men that came to see you said, what they’d shown you… How you saw your soulmate’s face amongst the criminals being hunted for killing the hundreds of auction attendees, for stealing billions in merchandise… for belonging to the Phantom Troupe.
The thoughts spiraled from there, anxiety spiking until you couldn’t breathe, until the world went blurry at the corners and sweat enveloped your whole body.
What did it mean?
What did it say about you?
And why did he decide to keep you alive?
After triggering another seizure—another concerning crack fissuring your psyche—you decided, as you woke up a few minutes later to doctors flashing lights in your eyes and bombarding you with questions, to put the news at the back of your mind for the foreseeable future.
It wouldn’t do you any good in your recovery.
The next person who came to see you was, to your shock, an attorney.
At first, you’d feared that either the mafia or the family of one of the victims wanted to come after you for some reason. He clearly looked like he belonged in the underground scene himself; the scar poking from below his neck collar to his jaw, the diamond studs in his ears, the cold in his eyes… They all pointed to someone who glimpsed at the darker side of life frequently.
But in fact, it was quite the opposite.
The attorney had heard about what happened at the auction, about what happened to you, and saw an opportunity to make your employer pay for what they’d done.
You’d been unconvinced in the beginning, his verbal-vomit coming through one ear and out the other, the fancy words he used making your head throb.
Truth be told, you had wanted to put the whole thing behind you and never think of that awful night again.
That was, until, he provided you with information that made your blood boil.
“They knew there would be an attack.” He had said, placing before you a photocopy of some writing haphazardly scribbled on some piece of paper. “And this is our proof.”
He then proceeded to explain in further detail how they’d increased security for the merchandise yet forwent offering any protection to its staff, to the patrons, demonstrating a gross lack of care and lapse in judgement. And not only that, he was certain the case was a slam dunk.
“With this and the last-minute involvement of the Shadow Beast, there’s no denying that they knew the auction would be targeted. They chose to value the goods put up for auction rather than the hundreds of lives that were ultimately lost. Had they not been so careless, you might not be in the predicament you find yourself in right now…”
That last phrase really sealed the deal for you, and you gave him the go ahead to follow with the suit.
The venue had known…
Your employers had known…
And now you had to suffer the consequences of their actions, of their greed, of their selfishness for the rest of your life.
You wished things got better after that, but they did not.
The third main visit that marked your stay in the hospital was, to your dismay and horror, Christan’s parents.
They came in; heavy bags under their lids and eyes puffy, clearly having not slept well since the ‘disappearance’ of their only son.
You had met them countless times before as you and Christian met at the tender age of thirteen and yet, standing before you now, you did not recognize them. They were shells of their former selves, rightfully so, lost and confused about what transpired the night of the auction.
Christian’s mother was the first to speak, choking on her breath as she took a good look at you—hooked up to machines, oxygen tub in your nose, wrist in a cast, your head wrapped in bandages and skin ashen—like death itself had perched itself on your shoulder, ready to claim your soul at any time. She stepped towards you with uncertainty, as if scared that one wrong move and you’d die, puffs of exhales wobbly on her lips.
“What…” she whispered; gripping the railing at the foot of the bed with enough strength to turn her knuckles white. “What happened?”
No one told them anything, Christian’s father proceeded to add, his gaze unable to hold your own. Apparently, the police were of no help as they had no jurisdiction on the cases of all those who attended that night, the matter handled by a private organization who seemed to stem from the underground. They were unreachable, refusing to disclose any discovery or idea of what occurred that night to loved ones, leaving family and friends confused and angry.
Staring at Christian’s mother, you blinked, the spot in your eye returning with full force, accompanied by a pounding in your skull. You closed your eyes and fisted the sheets, trying to calm yourself down.
The doctors had been running tests these past few days as you suffered through more and more seizures to see what was going on, and in the meantime, they showed you some warning signs, what to look out for and to start noting down what triggered them.
You started to think that acute bouts of stress was one of them.
You stuttered on your words as you tried to get them out, trying your best to voice them out to allow them even a morsel of closure.
They deserved that much.
It took a moment for you to gather your thoughts and to push through the incessant throbbing in your skull, which, somehow, made your entire face ache.
The world blurred, disorienting you, but deep down, you knew you had to answer. And through the wooziness, you finally pushed out the words, slurred and stuttered, shattering the already fragile air into a million pieces. “H-He’s dead.”
“…What?”
Your jaw clenched, teeth rubbing together so hard everyone could hear them grind. Every single part of your body hurt, prickled, the edges of your vision slowly enshrouded in darkness the more you thought of Christian.
His neck snapped.
His spine sticking out of his skin while his head rolled loosely, dislodged from its support.
The sound of his body falling on the ground
The vacancy in his once warm brown eyes…
“He’s dead.” You garbled dully; the life sucked out of you the moment you voiced those words into existence. The emptiness in his gaze was a nightmare that permanently stained you, refusing to allow you to escape. Voicing his death aloud to his family only solidified the ball and chain Christian would forever shackle to you, dragging you down. “They… killed… him.”
The next few moments were hazy.
You faintly registered Christian’s mother try to deny the truth, a series of ‘no, no, no!’ ringing out in the confines of your room, drowned out by the growing ache in your brain. As her cries bounced off the four walls of the hospital room, they reverberated into your skin, seeped into your bones and you groaned, trying to curl away from the noise.
She screeched, asking a series ‘why?’, ‘why my son?’, ‘why him and not you?’, ‘why, why, why!?’, her wails of agony traversing far beyond the marrow of your bones, digging deep within your atoms, staining, putrefying your existence to its very core.
Through blurry eyes and a crushing headache, you watched in a daze as Christian’s mother marched towards you, yelling things you couldn’t hear, body trying as much as it could in its condition to escape from her raw, wailing voice which hurled barrage after barrage of insults your way, making your ears feel like they were bleeding.
Everything hurt as she screamed, as her fingers gripped your shoulders and shook your weakened body, pathetic whines of protest slipping past your lips as your brain bounced around in your skull, pushed against your cranium. You don’t remember anything after that, your limbs locking, weary eyes rolling into the back of your head, vision and mind going dark…
Needless to say, you weren’t allowed any visitors until you recovered enough to stand on your own two feet.
It took a while, but your doctor finally unraveled her findings.
The seizures you suffered from weren’t, unfortunately, a side effect from the surgery like she previously theorised. Conclusively, they stemmed from your head injury mixed in with your trauma and there was no way of knowing if they would be a permanent fixture in your life.
Same with the migraines.
Neither was a side effect of surgery, more of the result from the severe brain hemorrhage.
And to make matters worse, it seemed that not only stress could trigger the seizures and migraines, but you’d developed a profound sensitivity to light. Early on, you’d force your parents to keep the blinds closed, chose to sleep during the day and stay awake during the night—despite everyone else’s displeasure—as you could no longer stand the brightness of the sun or the harsh, pounding lights in your room. It made you nauseous, ignited your brain on fire, hurt to a point of making you cry.
Never in a million years did you think that daylight or bright lighting in general would cause you so much harm.
It sucked, everything sucked, and you let yourself drown in your misery. Because of course perpetual headaches weren’t enough… Life had to assure you would never live out in broad daylight, live with other regular people ever again alongside a healthy dose of seizures.
As you sunk deeper in your despair, it became clear that you would need support for once the doctor cleared you to leave. She liked you enough to hook you up with someone who dealt with post-traumatic stress disorder and all that it entailed—the depression, anxiety, and more importantly, the nightmares and how to deal with it all.
Things didn’t get better.
You floated through the days—or rather, through the nights—and slowly came to terms with what happened to you and what was to come when your doctor finally deemed you fit enough to be discharged.
When the time did come, she handed you the papers and told you to call if the seizures grew frequent. If not, she would see you in a few weeks for a checkup, but she assured you she’d done some of her best work on you and that if you took your medication as instructed, followed therapy, took all the precautions necessary she discussed with you, you should live a relatively normal life.
As she said her goodbye speech, you nodded dumbly, her words drifting from one ear and out the other, knowing it was all just a bunch of garbage.
A relatively normal life… what a farce.
You didn’t want to live a ‘relatively normal life’, you didn’t want therapy or looked forward to the drastic changes your life would now face due to the injuries you suffered.
Her enthusiasm regarding your recovery just placed a sour taste in your mouth.
With a stiff, grim smile, you handed her back the papers, thanked her for everything she’d done and heaved your bag over your shoulder, your dad next to you as you left, your mom not too far behind…
A/N: Not gonna lie, this fic got away from me. Oups.
Alright. Gonna actually do my best to get everything cross-posted from Wattpad to here, even if it's one step at a time. Sorry, not sure why I procrastinated this for so long lol - We're on chapter 46 over there so I'd like to get to a point where I can post updates simultaneously.
If you'd like to be removed from the taglist (as I'm aware it's been a VERY long time), lmk! No hard feelings at all <33
Kk, happy reading!!
Luffy bolts over the edge of the island like a hound on a trail. With every bounding stride over the more hazardous sections of the land, his hands squeeze tightly at my waist and thighs, ensuring he won't drop me as we speed toward the Going Merry. The sun has risen past the border of the glistening sea, and I knew for a fact that we were going to be late.
Still, it amazed me how Luffy had managed to stay on such a steady pace whilst holding both me and the sack of gold. The bag had to be weighing heavily on his back. I had told him a number of times that I could run too, but he wasn't having it.
"I told you it's fine. We're almost there, anyways!" He huffed out happily, not stopping. I looked at him in disbelief. His stamina must've been insanely high.
"If you say so." I force myself to relent, clutching at the red vest as he vaults us over another pile of rocks.
"I say so!" He laughs, "Wait! Do you still have him?"
By him, he meant the Hercules Beetle that we had spent about forty-five minutes trying to catch after I had initially spotted it; the whole reason we were late in the first place. Now, the large insect was in my hand, nestled safely after Luffy had asked me to carry it, since he would be carrying me. The creature didn't fuss or bother me much. Honestly, I was much more worried about Nami's wrath when she found out how long it took to find the bug in question.
"Yeah, he's fine." I nodded, lifting it to show him. The bug stared vacantly, not a thought behind those eyes; reminding me much of the way my own soulmate looked at me sometimes. I furrowed my brow at the resemblance.
"Sweet! I can't wait to show the crew." He giggled, and I grimaced at the idea.
"Maybe we shouldn't," I started hesitantly, "After all, Nami is going to be so mad, and--"
"Hey!" Luffy interrupts with a long, drawn-out greeting.
I turn to look, and as the trees curve from our view, and the crew eases into our sight. I feel a sense of relief wash over me to see them with the Saruyama Alliance, who are standing and well.
"Luffy, hurry up! We're already behind schedule." Sanji urges as Luffy laughs the whole way, dashing over.
Finally, he screeches to a halt, and I would’ve fallen out of his hold from the movement if he hadn’t been gripping me. I wouldn't be surprised if he left skid marks from his sandals with how forceful the stop was; and I tilt my head up to see the reason why he looked so mesmerized.
The Going Merry was completely revamped; patched up in all the right places, and was now adorned with a pair of white wings, white tail feathers, and a red rooster comb. The top half of what seemed like a cracked egg surrounded the base of her figure head.
Our ram had been reformed into a rooster.
Luffy was dazzled by the new changes, sparkles in his eyes. I couldn't deny that I was also impressed by what they had gotten done in the span of a few hours; even though the design was just a tad funny-looking.
After taking my fill of the 'rooster-ized' Going Merry, my ears perked at a soft sound from behind us. I turned, albeit a bit awkwardly in Luffy's arms, and was immediately taken-aback.
"(Y/n)..." Nami sniveled, hands clenched in front of her like she was begging for forgiveness.
"We're sorry!" Usopp cried next, stumbling over to the two of us as I veered back at his closeness and further into Luffy. I wanted to avoid any unnecessary injuries, and I wasn’t sure I could catch him; he looked ready to topple over.
"Please– Please, forgive us!" Chopper wailed, waddling over with his hooves covering his eyes, but I could still see the wetness on his fur.
All three of them were crying real tears, blubbering out apologies and rambling about how worried they had been about me. The rest of the group were making their way over now, and I was beginning to feel claustrophobic from all the attention. The trio swarmed around me as they sobbed.
"Um-- Luffy?" I tug on the red cloth gently, "You can put me down now, please."
"Oh, yeah." He jolts, as if he had forgotten that I was there in the first place.
He bends over, lowering his arm until my feet are firmly on the ground; only letting go when he knows I have my balance back. The warmth of his body leaves mine, and I have to stop myself from leaning back into him out of instinct.
"H-Here..." With a blush, I hope he didn’t notice the obvious-desperation in my actions, so I offer the bug to him and look off to the side. He beams, snatching it with a quick 'thanks' and a laugh; before I can attempt to respond, I'm tucked backwards, somebody's arms wrapping around me.
"I'm sorry," Nami laments, "you must've been so scared!"
"They didn't hurt you, did they?" Chopper asks nervously as he clutches my leg tightly. My heart melts at the worry watering in his eyes.
"We thought we lost you forever!" Usopp is next as he flops into the group hug, sobbing loudly and clasping like a vice.
"G-Guys, I'm fine--" they continue to grieve, even as Robin, Sanji, and Zoro come over to watch the show.
"Really, I'm okay! I'm not hurt or anything--" Nami cuts me off as she grabs me by the cheeks and squishes them together.
"I promise we'll never leave you alone– ever again!"
"O-Okay, thanks, Nami," I mumble out, not being able to speak properly as her hands keep my face in place.
"Oi, give her a break, would ya?" Zoro gruffs out, and Nami just sobs and pulls me in for another hug.
"Glad to see that you're safe and sound." Robin comes and puts a hand on my shoulder with a soft laugh, and I smile in kind.
"(Y/n), my darling angel! You have finally returned to grace us with your stunning beauty--" Sanji trails off into one of his famous spiels as the monkey brothers give me a smile from over Nami's shoulder. Cricket, standing nearby, gives a nod of acknowledgment.
I close my eyes and hug Nami back, a warmth spreading from my chest as I sigh contentedly, Luffy laughing at Usopp's tearful face in the background.
Safe again at last.
---
Or not.
The waves tossed the ship around like a rag doll, the sky darkened by the cumulo-regalis that loomed overhead. The crew were struggling to find a hold on the ship to keep upright as we approached ever-closer to the whirl-pool, the ship steadily charging forward; apparently, this was our one-way ticket to sky island.
I was having difficulty taming the swirling of my gut as we were thrown to-and-fro, nearly capsizing as the waves progressively got bigger and bigger. I wasn't sure if the sudden nausea was from sea-sickness or nerves, but I was trying desperately not to puke.
"Position yourselves on the flow and head towards the center," Masira commanded from the galleon, "then you'll be fine!"
"He wants us to go where?" I questioned urgently.
"Are you alright?" Robin asked from nearby, scanning over my trembling form as I clutched at the rails of the sunny.
On cue, a massive wave crashed over-head, on board, and all over me. I sputtered and coughed at the salty taste.
"Not exactly!" I shrieked as the boat tilted, and I lost my grip due to the slickness of the railings (now wet) surface.
As I slid across the wooden boards, careening towards the edge where I would undoubtedly be greeting the cold, unforgiving waters, Robin stretched out her arm. Sprouting multiple clones of the limb in order to successfully grab me; one of the hands hooks around my arm, steadfast, before she's pulling me back to safety.
"Th-Thanks." I hook myself around the mast fearfully, reminding myself of one of those velcro-monkeys.
"Anytime." She's planted herself firmly to the floor with her own abilities.
The crew woefully panic as they realize the situation we've gotten ourselves into; most of them feeling about the same as myself, utterly frightened, while others remain relatively indifferent. Luffy, of course, is cackling like a madman as we head straight for the swirling center of the whirlpool.
SPLASH!
With a roar, a massive, yellow, eel-look alike bursts from the water beside the ship; sharp white teeth framing a purple, gaping maw. It was a lot smaller than the monstrous-turtle we had seen previously – but it was large enough to swallow the ship whole if it wished.
It falls into the ocean with a flap of its fins and a rumbling groan. All of us are left gaping in horror as it gets sucked into the current.
Luffy is waving at the monkey brothers in delight, who have oh-so-kindly led us out to our doom, giving them a cheerful goodbye and a – 'thanks for everything!' – as we're wrenched further into the tide. The sky is becoming gloomier, and eventually we lose sight of the two galleons as we descend.
"We're being sucked in!" Zoro observes after Luffy howls something about it being 'our biggest adventure yet,' and it's like the ocean is playing a prank on us as the ship goes airborne; the water has dropped out from below us.
Everybody screams including myself as I feel the weightless-pull of gravity flip my stomach. I was gripping the wooden beam so tight I thought my fingers might break off.
Then, it stops.
Everything stops. The sound of the rushing water, the boat falling into the abyss, the crew's shrill screams… Everything is calm.
I pry my eyes open, limbs reluctantly easing out of the tension as I look around. The water is flat. In fact, it doesn’t even resemble an ocean anymore. It looked more like a lake, or a pond; without a single wave to be seen in the dark, peaceful waters.
So why did I feel so uneasy?
"What happened? It disappeared?" Sanji doubted gruffly.
"What's goin' on?" Luffy sounded disappointed, like the fun had suddenly stopped for him.
I leaned my head against the wood in front of me in exasperation, and the 'thunk' seemed to catch his attention.
"You--" He gasped, pointing at me as I peeked at him, "You look like a wet cat!"
He was hollering with laughter. I frowned, too busy shivering in my spot to bother retaliating.
"I-I don't get it..." Usopp sounded lost, but concerned, "Where did it go?"
Then, Nami focused down on the floor beneath her feet. I looked down, too.
I could feel something, a textured-roll of the water beneath; It grew steadily on the underside of the boat. Did this mean that–
"It's starting!"
–The knock up stream was coming.
Nami confirmed my fears as the rumble grew further into a deep grumble, and then into a growl. Bubbles began to pop on the sides of the ship, terror gripping me when I grasped what was about to happen.
"The whirlpool sunk under the surface!" Nami explained hastily after the boys looked at her oddly.
"You don't mean..." Usopp trembled.
The crew stood in silence, listening and feeling the whirlpool ascend closer to the water’s surface.
Nobody moved, nobody spoke. All of us were waiting anxiously for the impending explosion.
"Hold it right there!"
The gritty, deep voice echoed over the ocean as everybody turned to look in the distance. It was a voice, and a face, that I didn't recognize. Luffy did, though.
"Hey, Zoro," The green-headed swordsman turned with a 'huh?'
"Look." Luffy gestured. One of the four men on the makeshift raft approaching us laughed loudly, the same one that had called out, looking ready for confrontation.
I was ready to jump off-board if it meant I could avoid more fighting.
"Well, well, well... If it isn't Straw Hat Luffy!" The large, tan man with curly black hair crossed his arms with a malignant smile.
"It's that Mocktown guy!" Nami exclaimed, much to the confusion of everyone else. Whoever he was, though, he definitely knew Luffy.
"I've come all this way to collect your hundred-million berri bounty! So, don't be shy!" He cooed, and I cringed at the grating of his voice; he wasn’t a part of Bellamy's crew, was he?
I swallowed thickly.
"Hundred-million? What are you talkin' about?" Luffy called over the sea to the newcomers, seeming unphased.
"Don't play dumb with me, kid!" He holds out a few pieces of poster, and I finally catch up to speed with what's happening.
"Oh. Yeah." I register the posters in his hands, and everyone turns to look at me expectantly.
"Um--" I cleared my throat, "Luffy and Zoro's bounties went up."
Nothing.
Then,
"WHAT?!" Some of them scramble to look through Usopp's binoculars, while Luffy and Zoro celebrate their newfound victory.
"Your bounties must've gone way up after the Alabasta incident, but a hundred-million?" Nami is flabbergasted.
"This is great!" Luffy cheers, arms flailing in the air, "Did you hear that? My bounty went up big time!"
"Sixty-million isn't too bad, either!" Zoro sounds cheerful, and it's the most emotion I think I've heard from him so far.
"It's not a good thing!" Nami points an accusatory finger as she chastises them.
Luffy ignores her, instead rushing over to me, where I'm still wrapped around the mast.
"You knew about my bounty and didn't tell me?" He slumped over to look me in the eye, and I flinched at the volume of his disappointed interrogation.
"W-Well, one of Bellamy's crewmates found out before you showed up... Sorry, I guess I just forgot to--" The ship begins to rise, and Luffy loses his balance from the sudden movement.
The surface of the water swells like an overgrown pimple; The surface tension rolls over itself in an endless plume of waves as the force of the knock-up stream builds beneath it. It exponentially gets larger as each second passes. At any moment it would be ready to pop, and we would be sent soaring into the air.
"Everyone either hold on or get inside!" Sanji rushes past as the rest of the crew follow suit. The boat tilts, Luffy grabs onto the other side of the mast swiftly, doing a much better job of constricting himself around it.
"The ship!" Usopp sobs;
"It's being lifted up!"
The crew is sweating, holding tightly to the boat as best they can before--
SHWOOM!
The ocean bursts alive.
The scream that rips from my throat hurts, high pitched and more than likely making Chopper's sensitive ears bleed. Though I can faintly hear the rest joining the sound soon after.
I peek my eyes open against the steady-whipping of the wind against my skin. The jet of water that's sailing us into the sky is enormous. It’s taller and wider than anything I've ever seen; it might just rival the size of those giants we saw in chapter nine. My ears pop as the ship climbs higher still, muscles straining as we’re flipped vertically.
"What's happening?!" Usopp's shrill scream interrupts my own, and I can't even bring myself to cough from the way that my throat constricts.
"We're sailing up a pillar of water!" Sanji informs the sharp-shooter, who bawls.
"This is awesome!" Luffy is exhilarated, holding the hat on top of his head so that it doesn't fall off.
"How is this happening?!" Usopp is lamenting again.
"To Skypeia!" Luffy holds an excited fist to the air.
"Hold on," Sanji sounds nervous, "It's not gonna' be that easy. Look."
His head is angled toward the bottom of the ship, where it meets the flourish; I can't see what he's looking at, but I can't imagine it's anything good based on the deep tone of his voice.
"What's wrong? Did we forget about something?" Luffy's eyebrows are furrowed as he looks at Sanji.
"The hull’s starting to float!" The cook cuts to the chase. Now that he mentioned it, it did feel like we were starting to lean backwards.
"If this keeps up we're gonna' fall into the ocean!"
"What do you expect us to do about it?" Usopp counters, voice warbling with tears, "We're having a hard enough time holding on as it is!"
He's not wrong, flailing in the wind like a flag as his mouth gapes in distress. My arms are getting sore from seizing for so long.
"Oh no-- What is that?!" Chopper screeches, and I catch sight of something in the same direction.
The body of the yellow sea king is falling down the spout, tongue lolling out of its jagged mouth; it doesn't seem to be conscious as it flies past with a high-pitched rush of air, the sheer size of it sounding like a missile in the wind.
"The sea king!" Zoro grits.
"It's the one that got sucked in earlier!" Chopper affirms.
"See?" Sanji insists, "It's only a matter of time before that happens to us!"
I shivered, thinking of all those times that Cricket mentioned the dangers of falling back into the ocean at such a height. It was basically instant death; the boat, and our bodies, would be blown to pieces on impact.
"I know, but what can we do? We don't have a lot of options when it comes to Mother Nature. We're at her mercy." Zoro is standing on the door to the lower level of the ship, using it as a makeshift floor due to the now-vertical-nature of the Going Merry. His arms are outstretched to convey that there aren't many options for us to work with.
"I guess we just have to hold on and hope for the best!" Sanji concedes, preparing himself for the onslaught of ships debris that follows soon after the sea king.
Where it had come from, I wasn't sure; but I managed to narrowly dodge the broken planks, barrels, and various pottery that came tumbling down onto our persons. That is, until one smashed into my arm.
Instinctively, I let go of my safehold, free-falling with a wince as I cradled the limb. Zoro, from behind me, lets out a surprised noise before my back crashes into his chest, and he's sprawled flat against the wall of the Going Merry with a groan.
"Sorry..." I groan too, shifting to get off of him.
"Don't sweat it." He whispers painfully.
"We're gonna take a nose-dive straight into the ocean, all because Luffy had to follow some stupid dream!" Usopp whined
"Spread the sails, right away!" Nami barks at me, Zoro, Robin, Chopper, and Luffy; who looks over the edge of the mast excitedly. I look at her, confused.
"Sure, it's a pillar of water, but it's still part of the sea! It's a rising current!" She explains;
"The wind from below is a rising air current produced by geothermal heat, causing a steam explosion! It might be packaged differently, but it's still just wind and water."
She turns to look at us with confidence, grabbing a rope and preparing herself to begin the plan.
"Trust me! I'm a navigator, aren't I?" The way her brown eyes shine, despite the pitch of the sky around us, was exceptionally motivating. The crew begins to move, armed with a renewed spirit.
"Alright, crew; align the ship with the current!"
"Yes, ma'am!"
"Nami, if this works, I'll never question you again for my entire life!" I squeal as I help Robin undo one of the knots for the sails.
"Of course it's going to work! I know what I’m talking about."
"Uh-- We're rising above the water," Chopper states wearily, "is that okay?"
"Nami, do something!" Luffy freaks, "We're gonna' fall!"
"No, we're gonna' make it!" She's still unwavering as she stares heatedly at the sails, plumped with the hot air. The ship looms backwards.
"Nami!" I alarm her, feeling us begin to lift off of the water completely, and fearing the worst.
But, we don't fall. Rather, the ship, no longer being held back by the embrace of the water, begins to hurtle through the air.
"We're flying!" Luffy's amazement reflects my own, and I can't help but watch in wonder as we gain speed, darting towards the clouds only a few hundred feet away.
"We're headed to the sky!" The Captain's teeth bare with an unrelenting thrill, consumed by our victory against gravity.
"We made it..." Usopp's eyes are bloodshot, and he was extremely pale; he must've been in shock.
Robin looked up towards our destination with a serenity in her gaze that only she could hold; Chopper couldn't stop screaming.
"I did it!" Nami looked proudly towards the sky.
"Yes!" Zoro grinned triumphantly.
"Nami! You're wonderful!" Sanji cheered, pink hearts in his eyes, "I think I love you!"
I gazed, dumbstruck, into the stormy-clouds above us. We were so close, ready to break through the sky so that we could finally discover what was on the other side.
A sky island.
An actual island in the sky, and a city of gold.
Not even The City That Never Sleeps could compare to that.
I looked around at the rest of the crew, my crew, who were all expectantly anticipating our arrival. The rush of adrenaline was pumping through our veins trying to reign in the excitement.
I felt the tickle of soft mist on my forearms, hair raising as we finally pierced the shaded, fluffy barrier.
I looked up, held my breath, and smiled as we were engulfed into the clouds.
A:n- hello! It is based on one of my chapter in string but feel free to read.
Its abit kind of angst.
Nagi Seishirou X Male reader soulmate au.
"Past"
Nᴀɢɪ Sᴇɪsʜɪʀᴏᴜ Pᴏᴠ
I often hear about soulmate string portray in games. Where two players are randomly choose and got married in game. It happen once a month and they get great rewards.
My eyes lit up as I finally got chosen with another player and married getting the reward.
I hear a knock on my door as I went out noticing a boy with h/c hair he was... Pretty. He handed me the bowl as out finger touched.
I kept the bowl as I stare at the string then at him. I feel happy. More then happy of the game event I won.
"We are soulmate?"
"Huh?"
"So you belong to me and I belong to you?" I ask as he shook his head. "No I don't"
I didn't care I just cling on him.
It was first time. I got something I wanted... He carried me to his family.
He live above my apartment which reassure me that we won't be separate.
I snuggle on the nape of his neck. My hold on him tightens when I learn he have another soulmate.
I could just sleep on him.
It was nice to hold someone like this... Without been push away. I never got to hug my parents like this.
And y/n parents were welcoming. I ended up going to their house more... Well I just sleep with y/n if I don't feel like moving after dinner.
I like the feeling he hold me while we sleep it was comforting.
"I'm leaving for Germany"
"Are you going for long?" I ask holding on him which he said it was going to be a month.
"Can't I come with you?"
"Your parents are here you should spend time with them"
"..."he refuse to take me this time.
Why I wonder.
He always take me to his trip with his family. Though most of time I let him carry me around.
It was nice... And I don't want to lose him.
" y/n... Please come back" I mutter holding my pillow. I knew I was suffocating him been too clingy. I can't help it. I never really got friends no. I don't make one.
But this fate brought us together even if I am just a pink string.
I missed him I couldn't bear to stay apart for a month.
"Y/n... Can you talk to me while I sleep?" I ask keeping the phone close to my ear.
"Please... My parents left early..." I mutter out as he agree to speak to me while I doze of to sleep.
That was the only thing that kept me asleep, his voice.
I want to video chat but he doesn't really agreed to do so.
It was suffocating without him...
The pillow was the only sort of comfort and I couldn't sleep at night.
When he return I clung to him. He didn't protest.
I didn't left him the whole day except for bathroom he push me out before I protest.
"Seems like you both are getting close"
I nod at his mother comment. His parents were nice. They cook for me let me stay with y/n. The only problem was school.
I learn he was going to Hakuho high.
It took me a while, studying with him. I didn't want to study but since he was there I tried.
And I end up able to achieve it with great marks.
It was first time I hear y/n praise me for getting good grades.
I don't even try. Only pass mark was goal often but hearing y/n praise me it kinda make me happy. I do got more then pass mark later on but it doesn't matter for me.
He carry me to school in bicycle. And home together.
I want to be everywhere he goes but... I guess he doesn't want that.
He get surrounded easily... I don't like one bit.
But at least we got to eat lunch together at rooftop. I always wait for him by the steps of first floor for him to carry me.
I barely know what he likes. But I was so happy we played games together.
I start to developed more and more and wonder how it will be to be with him forever like how y/n parents are always together. When the husband come home and all.
I just stare at the movies of how the person kiss the other or intimate things. I just watch it all when I am bored not caring if it is adult one. I didn't know it... But now I do...
I wanted him to kiss me like that care for me like that. Is that too much to ask for?
Can't we officially get married as I am staying at his house often.
"Y/n..." I hugged him as I know he is physically here with me but... His attention was never on me for long.
I don't like it one bit. Why did fate make me pink string. Why don't you bonded with me...
"I love you." I muttef while clung on his waist while my face burried on his chest. While he was asleep. My eyes flick up staring at him asleep.
I crawl up to him.
As I lean closer to his face. But I stop myself to let my desire to go. My hand parted his hair strains that covered his face.
My head on his shoulder as I snuggle on him.
"Stay.. Please."
I love him... He is mine. I belong to him and so he does.
Why can't he just. Accept him. Like how i just accept it?
I love him. I love him.
I know I am to clingy to him. But it is suffocation for me without him. Especially knowing he will choose someone else.
I don't want that. I don't want to be taken away from the dream it gave.
In selection I could see you far away from me. I couldn't be with you. It hurts.
I don't like been away from you. And after all those days without you why don't you give me attention.
Do you have to touch me to make you notice me? Love me more ? Care for me more? I am selfish I know you have been... There for me and I know you deserve someone better unlike me.
Someone who is so lazy to move around lose interest easily.
Someone who make you happy not uncomfortable...
But I can't help it. I can't stand without you. You are like a game that make me so addicted over the fact I can't win the level.
I just want you to hold me...
"Y/n please..." I snuggle on your neck while my hand clench on your back shirt. "Tell me you won't leave me."
[Day 5 DPxDC Week: Jason Todd // Soulmate AU // Funeral Rites ]
• Anger Management ship (Jasmine Fenton x Jason Todd) No relevant warnings beyond the usual DP stuff
Jazz has always had it the worst. Danny might have been the one to die but Jazz is the one who lost not only her soulmate, but her little brother too. It doesn’t matter that he’s still around, he knows the grief weighs on her sometimes. She overcompensates by being a massive mother hen and general pain in the neck but he tries not to get too upset with her about it.
With Dani with an “i” fresh out of high school and Jazz’s birthday coming up soon, he wants to do something special. He spends a lot of time bribing Ghost Writer in order to research his idea out.
It’s probably the most time and effort he’s put into a project that wasn’t about space.
Proposing the idea to her is the one big thing this all hinges on. He’s not 100% sure she’ll be on board with this but he’d like to try.
And trying is what kicks off the first part of his plan. It’s a little awkward to bring up the fact that he doesn’t have a grave and would like one. It’s almost physically painful to see the grief it brings to Jazz’s eyes. She tries to hide it but Danny has always been able to read her better than he lets on. It’s part of the process though. He needs her to see how this goes and feels. How it’s a celebration of life and honoring those who have passed and not just a somber reminder to the living of what they’ve lost. He needs her to see what it means to him. And what it would mean to her soulmate.
He makes the grave marker of course. They’re not about to buy one when he has the strength and abilities to carve it out himself. He makes sure that it’s vague unless you know him. No names, no identifying markers like age or dates. It’s simple and meaningful for him.
{May he rest here between walks among the stars, our friend and brother beloved}
From there it’s pretty much all fun and games. Literally.
Same brings the games while she has Tucker pack out the food. It’s a combination of some of Grandma Ida’s homemade desserts and various junk foods. Even Tucker brings some cookies his mom helped him figure out how to make.
Jazz is in charge of the drinks while Danny and Dani handled all the decorating. It’s a combination of solidified ectoplasm, his ice, and various flowers they’ve gathered and strung together in a flower chain.
It’s a smashing success and he sees something in Jazz release. Some niggling worry or grief she carried that is no longer there.
Now, he decides, it’s time for part two.
What throws part two for a loop is when Dani with an “i” brings up that she’d like a grave and proper funeral rites as well.
It’s not a setback. Definitely not when he sees how much more relaxed and content Jazz is at Dani with an i’s wake.
It’s only a couple days from her birthday when he brings it up. The funeral practices for soulmates are as varied as they are sacred. He proposes her options via a PowerPoint he put far too many hours into.
By the time he finishes rambling, she’s got this sort of startled look on her face.
He twists his shirt in his hands as he stands awaiting her judgement. The longer she’s silent, the more convinced Danny is that she’ll reject the whole thing and not talk to him for a month.
Okay, maybe a week but still a week is a long time.
Suddenly Jazz is crying and oh ancients he’s really messed up this time. She’s not even mad just straight up upset by his offer.
But then she’s hugging him, telling him she loves him, and thanking him.
It’s not as hard as Danny feared to actually track down the location of a Jason Todd who died before Jazz reached 16 (she never wanted to look him up before, didn’t want to know what she was missing) and the day before her 25th birthday Danny, Dani, and Jazz all pile into her little car to make the drive to Gotham, homemade foods in tow.
Danny and Dani made sure to swipe one of Vlad’s special rich dude credit cards to fund their trip and the stop at multiple flower shops to get enough flowers to make flower chains and crowns for all of them.
It’s closing in on evening, the day of Jazz’s birthday when they finally roll up and upload everything. They didn’t bring any lights, but none of them really need much light to see for eating food and drinking sodas. Jazz brought some jasmine tea and an extra cup to place on Jason’s grave. They make a funky, dark evening of it, but finally Jazz grows more somber and keeps taking long looks at the gravestone so Danny and Dani decide to make themselves scarce.
They’re about halfway across the cemetery when out of the shadows steps the looming menace of Red Hood.
“The fuck are you doing at that grave?”
It’s not his voice or his tone, but the sub vocal ghost speak that makes Danny and Dani freeze up ramrod straight.
That’s a revenant and they’re trespassing on his resting place without permission.
So of course like any sane person, Danny says something stupid. But he just can’t believe out of all the ridiculous coincidences to exist in the world, that Jazz’s soulmate is undead like him seems just too far to believe.
“Jason?”
Almost late despite having the day off work bc I had to go shopping and bc of where I live, shopping is essentially a full day affair. This is shorter than I’d like it but I also kinda enjoy where it ends XD imagine their next moments however you please or feel free to add onto this.
The sun rose lazily over the Grand Prix venue, casting pale light over the edges of the curtains, soft and tender like a new day being offered in cupped hands. The suite smelled faintly of bergamot from the soap they had used the night before, and though the world outside hummed with anticipation, the room itself remained cocooned in the silence of intimacy and slow breath.
(Y/n) stirred first.
She blinked at the ceiling, her body blanketed in warmth and the kind of ache that only came from being held too tightly, loved too deeply. A faint soreness lingered between her thighs, but it wasn’t painful, it was grounding. A reminder of what had happened the night before. Of what they had given each other.
She turned her head.
Lando was still asleep, mouth slightly parted, one arm tucked beneath the pillow and the other sprawled across her waist, as though even in sleep, he needed to be sure she hadn’t gone anywhere. There was a strange vulnerability to his sleeping face. No tension in his jaw. No furrow between his brows. Just the unguarded calm of someone who had nothing to hide in that moment.
She let herself look at him a while longer.
And then, slowly, carefully, she slipped out of bed.
Her body protested a little, muscles sore from both the emotional and physical weight of the past few days. But she pushed through it. She had a bag to pack. A schedule to follow. It was race day, after all.
The room was quiet save for the sound of water running as she washed her face. She moved around with practiced ease, setting out Lando’s race kit—folded, prepped, and placed on the edge of the dresser. She tucked their passes into the side of her bag, double-checked the paddock entry wristbands, and made sure to bring the lip balm he always forgot.
By the time he stirred awake, she was already dressed, sitting by the window with her hair half-tied, sipping tea and watching people filter into the circuit from a distance.
“Morning,” he murmured, voice thick with sleep.
“Good morning,” she replied gently.
He stretched, one hand covering his face, then dropped his arm and simply looked at her. His eyes softened as he sat up.
“How are you feeling?”
She smiled faintly. “Sore.”
Lando grinned, satisfied and sheepish all at once. “Yeah?”
She rolled her eyes and threw a pillow at him.
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
They arrived at the paddock two hours before the start of the Grand Prix.
The car ride was calm, both of them listening to a playlist that drifted between soft indie and vintage R&B. The sun had risen fully now, painting the track in hues of fire and promise. There was something about race day mornings that always felt heavier, as though the air knew it was about to be broken by speed and rubber.
Inside the paddock, the atmosphere shifted from calm to electric.
Team members bustled in every direction. Tires were wheeled into garages. Engineers barked final checks into radios. Cameras clicked. Fans waved banners over the barriers. Commentators rehearsed their opening lines for the broadcast.
And in the middle of it all stood Lando, calm but focused, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his McLaren hoodie, the brim of his cap pulled low, blocking out most of the world.
Beside him, (Y/n) didn’t say much.
She didn’t need to.
Sometimes just being there was enough.
When they reached the hospitality entrance, he gave her hand one final squeeze, then pressed a soft kiss to the back of her fingers.
“Wish me luck?”
“Always,” she whispered.
He smiled—grateful, charged, ready—and then disappeared behind the orange-clad engineers.
(Y/n) found Lily inside the motorhome, curled up on one of the cushioned benches with a half-empty coffee cup. The moment she saw her, Lily brightened and patted the seat beside her.
“Race face on already?” Lily teased, glancing at (Y/n)’s concentrated expression.
(Y/n) chuckled as she sat. “I think I’m more nervous than he is.”
“You should’ve seen me during Oscar’s first race,” Lily replied, taking a sip. “I nearly bit through my pen.”
They both laughed, tension loosening slightly.
It had become a rhythm now, the way the two women fell into conversation. As though they had been friends long before soulmates or team affiliations brought them into the same world. There was something easy about Lily. She didn’t ask too much. Didn’t pry. But she saw.
And for (Y/n), that made all the difference.
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
The Grand Prix began with a roar.
Engines growled like caged beasts behind the starting grid. Tire blankets were stripped away. Mechanics cleared the lanes. The lights above blinked red, one by one by one, until finally, they blacked out.
And just like that, the race was on.
Lando got a clean launch, holding his second position into Turn 1. The leader—Verstappen—defended hard, pushing Lando to the edge of the track as they approached the second corner. But Lando didn’t flinch. He stayed committed, tucked into the slipstream like it was written into his blood.
Lap after lap, she watched the intervals narrow.
She barely blinked.
Lily handed her a bottle of water, but (Y/n) didn’t drink it. Her eyes were fixed on the screen, on the onboard, on the track.
Lando was relentless.
By Lap 23, he had clawed his way within DRS range, using every ounce of downforce and grit to keep his car breathing down Verstappen’s neck. On Lap 26, he made the first attempt, diving inside into Turn 4. Verstappen covered. The tires kissed. A spark flew. But Lando backed out, saving the move for something cleaner.
And it came.
Lap 31.
Out of Turn 10, with battery deployment maxed and slipstream slicing air like a blade, Lando lunged down the main straight. Verstappen tried to squeeze him, but Lando had already committed. Brake late. Hold the line. Hit the apex. Exit smooth.
He emerged in front.
The crowd erupted.
(Y/n) let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding.
She didn’t cheer.
She just smiled.
She knew he still had twenty-five laps to survive.
But it wasn’t just adrenaline carrying him now.
It was control.
Maturity.
Purpose.
The second stint was about tire management, fuel saving, clean exits. He held his ground like a seasoned commander, fending off all late charges. Even in the closing laps, when Charles and Max both tried to close the gap, Lando never faltered.
He crossed the finish line 3.6 seconds ahead.
P1.
McLaren’s garage exploded with celebration. Pit boards flew. Radio chatter peaked. The world watched as Lando’s hands went up in the cockpit, victorious, joyful, overwhelmed.
He parked the car in front of the board marked “1” and climbed out slowly, almost in disbelief.
Then he looked around.
Not at the cameras.
Not at the crew.
He looked for her.
And when he saw her standing at the barrier, still in disbelief, he smiled like it was only ever for her.
He jogged to her, unzipping his suit halfway, sweat clinging to his curls. Cameras followed every step, but he didn’t care. Not in that moment.
He reached her.
She reached for him.
And he pressed a kiss to her lips.
Just a peck.
But it meant everything.
She returned it, shyly at first, then again, with more feeling.
It was their moment.
Unfolding between the noise and the crowd and the history being written.
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
The podium was loud.
The champagne was stickier than she thought it would be. It clung to her skin, to her shirt, to the tips of Lando’s fingers when he pulled her into another hug just before media rounds.
The celebration lingered.
In the garage.
In the smiles of his mechanics.
In the energy of Zak’s toast.
In Oscar’s bear hug and Lily’s proud grin.
But eventually, even the noise began to fade.
And they were back in the suite.
Just the two of them.
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He peeled off his race suit slowly, muscles sore, back slightly tight from the strain. She ran the shower while he undressed, filling the room with soft steam and lavender-scented warmth.
He stepped in first.
She followed after.
They didn’t say much.
Words weren’t necessary.
The shower steamed around them, thick and hot, curling along skin like breath. The water cascaded over their bodies in waves—soothing, quiet, almost reverent.
He stood behind her, bare chest pressed flush to her back, his arms wrapped low around her waist, palms spread possessively over her stomach. His cheek rested in the crook of her neck, the scent of her skin mixing with soap and heat and something unspoken between them.
She relaxed into him, spine melting into the hard lines of his body.
His hands moved slowly, deliberately.
Up to her shoulders. Down her arms. Over her hips.
Mapping her all over again.
He reached for the shampoo and lathered it between his fingers, then brought both hands up to her scalp.
His fingertips massaged gently, circling, scraping just enough to make her exhale with a sound that was almost a moan.
She closed her eyes.
Let herself be cared for.
He tilted her head back beneath the stream, rinsing her slowly, watching the suds trail down the delicate slope of her neck, over her breasts, then further, following every curve like they belonged to him.
When he kissed her shoulder, it wasn’t a brush of affection, it lingered. His lips parted, teeth grazing. Then he sucked, slow and deep, just enough to leave a mark blooming on her damp skin.
Her breath caught.
His hand slid forward again, between her thighs this time—fingers brushing against her heat, testing.
She gasped.
Pressed her back against him instinctively.
He was already hard.
Already pressed along the curve of her ass, pulsing hot against slick skin.
“I need you,” he whispered, voice rough, low, and trembling. “Right here.”
She nodded. Didn’t need time to think.
He turned her gently, kissed her mouth—wet and full, tongues sliding together like muscle memory.
Then he lifted one of her thighs against his hip and aligned himself.
The stretch of him filled her in one slow, aching thrust.
Their foreheads pressed together. Her mouth parted. A choked sound left her throat.
“Fuck—you feel too good,” he groaned, hands gripping her ass, holding her steady as he began to move.
Water spilled between them, rivulets tracing down their joined bodies as his hips found a rhythm—deep, slow, grinding.
Her hands clutched at his shoulders, then his back, then his hair—needing to hold onto something real.
Their bodies slapped together, soft and wet, steam rising with every thrust.
She moaned. Loud now. Unfiltered.
Her head fell back against the tile as he fucked her into the wall—deliberate, focused, his mouth kissing every inch of skin he could reach.
“You’re mine,” he murmured between kisses.
“Say it.”
“I’m yours,” she gasped, barely able to breathe. “Lando, I—”
He reached between them and rubbed tight circles against her clit, thumb slick, firm, insistent.
She broke apart in seconds.
Her orgasm crashed over her—hips jerking, muscles clenching around him, a cry echoing off the tile.
He groaned, deep and guttural, as she pulsed around him.
And then he followed—spilling inside her with a stuttering thrust, forehead pressed to hers, breathing ragged.
They stood there, holding each other in the heavy quiet.
The water still falling.
His hands still on her skin.
Her body trembling in his arms.
He kissed her again. Softer now. Sweeter.
And she smiled against his lips, eyes fluttering closed.
Because in the warmth, in the steam, in the ache—they had found something real.
Not just lust.
Not just need.
But belonging.
And when they finally stepped out of the shower, limbs still shaking, breath still uneven, the silence between them wasn’t empty. It was full—of meaning, of reverence, of everything they’d just shared.
She reached first, pulling a soft towel from the hook and wrapping it around his waist with trembling hands. Then, wordlessly, she took another and began drying his hair with the same slow care she’d once given her little brother on nights when the world felt too heavy. Only this time, her fingers lingered longer. She smoothed back the curls from his forehead, rubbed gently behind his ears, moving with a tenderness that made his chest ache.
He didn’t look away.
Didn’t say a word.
He just stood there, hands resting on her hips, as though anchoring himself to the reality of her, to the miracle of being held like this.
Then, as she lowered the towel, he took both of her hands in his and brought them to his lips. He kissed each knuckle. Then the soft inside of her wrists. Then the fading red mark near her soulmate shimmer.
“You saved me tonight,” he whispered against her skin.
But she shook her head, voice raw. “We saved each other.”
And then it was his turn.
He took a towel and slowly, reverently, dried her shoulders, her arms, the curves of her waist and thighs. Every movement was deliberate. Worshipful. Like she was something sacred and he didn’t dare rush.
When he knelt to dry her calves, he pressed a kiss to her knee. Then her hip. Then the stretch mark just above her thigh.
She watched with wide, tear-glossed eyes as he rose again, brushing her damp hair behind her ears before cupping her face.
“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he murmured.
She believed him.
Not because of the way he said it, but because of the way he touched her. The way he looked at her like she was made of starlight and second chances. Like her body, her heart, her soul, every part of her, belonged exactly where it was. With him.
They stood there for a long time.
Bare.
Bruised.
But whole.
And when he finally pulled her back into his arms, wrapping them both in the same towel, she melted against him—warm, safe, claimed.
In the quiet of that room, they didn’t need to say what they both already knew:
They had taken each other—fully, completely.
And neither of them would ever give that back.
They climbed into bed with the lights still low and the television muted in the background.
And for the first time in what felt like forever, they slept without fear.
No headlines to dread.
No questions to run from.
Only each other.
Only the sound of steady breath in the hush of the suite.
Only the knowing that they had made it—through the weekend, through the storm, and into something that felt like the beginning of forever.
📝 Note from the Author:
My dear Alarwynnites,
First post for today, whew. I know, we’re diving in hot again. I had to quietly scream into a pillow while writing half of this because *ahem* someone (Lando) decided to turn the shower into a soul-baring confessional, AND a steam room for Olympic-level passion.
I mean, come on, the way he dried her hair like she was royalty and then went full kneel and kiss every stretch mark mode?? Sir. Please. Some of us are trying to survive out here.
To everyone still riding this story train with me, THANK YOU. Your reblogs, comments, and likes bring this universe to life and keep me from quietly combusting from self-doubt. If you haven’t left a note, it’s totally fine, just knowing you read means the world to me. Still, don’t be shy… reblog, like, comment if you feel something (or scream something). I read everything.
