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@jiminscookiejar's art on the moodboard (the one at the very left, very below), that she allowed me to use for this moodboard, go check their drawings, they're amazing i'm an absolute fan <3

   “Do you have your keys?” asked Taehyung. 

Hoseok had always been a bit of a forgetful person. He always forgot his keys when he went to his classes in the morning. Or his transportation card. Or his computer, with what he used to take notes, and which stayed on the kitchen table all day, or on his desk. In short, he often forgot his things, a habit that Taehyung found adorable, now, though not very accommodating when they were stuck outside together. Without their keys. 

   “Yes!” he shouted back at him, in his usual cheerful voice, from the doorway. 

He was putting on his shoes and tying them.

   “What about your class stuff? You didn’t forget anything, your pencil case, your computer?” threw Taehyung at him, almost in laughter, from his studio.

   “Yes, too!”

They used to do this every morning, to be honest. It was like, their ritual. Their cute habit, to put each other in a good and goofy mood in the morning.

   “Your transportation card?”

   “Yes!” laughed Hoseok again, before adding. “Well, I’m off, I’m late.”

Again, Taehyung thought with a smile as he put on his work apron.

   “Yes, again,” Hoseok replied, in anticipation, laughing harder.

His laughter sounded like a fantastic music.

   “I didn’t say anything!” laughed Taehyung in return.

   “Sure, sure! I believe you!”

Taehyung smiled as he set up his painting equipment. He had put a new canvas on his easel the night before, but the other fool had come to him begging for hugs, so he had resigned himself to not starting his canvas until the next morning ― which was now, now. He had given in to his hugs yesterday, as he often did when it came to Hoseok; and God only knew how hard it was to get Taehyung to take up his art. But Hoseok always managed to accomplish this achievement without missing a beat. It was something only he was able to do. When Taehyung had something in mind about painting, not lots of things were able to take him off of it. Not lots, but Hoseok.

   “Well, I’m off!” shouted Hoseok one last time, before Taehyung heard the door to their small apartment slam shut.

The brunette was in a good mood now.

In fact, he was always in a good mood around his beloved. He had always considered their meeting as a sign of fate, as if they were made for each other. And for good reason: Hoseok was his muse. He liked to look at him, to admire him, to see him evolve around, wherever he was, as if he could create an aura around him; from the beginning, Taehyung had been fascinated. Mesmerized.

Taehyung liked those words. “Muse”. “Mesmerized”. It sounded good.

As he took out his paint, his brushes, put on his apron, unrolled his tarp under his easel, and took out pages of old newspapers ― which spoke of the arrival of summer, while autumn was now well underway ― he took a deep breath. Yes, he had everything out, now he just had to get started. Turning on his old CD player, after slipping in an Adele CD, he had a feeling he was going to have a good day of work today.

Taehyung’s job, although he didn’t really like to call it a “job” since it was kind of vital for him to create, was to be an artist. He painted for people, and he used to sell his paintings. Quite regularly, for his greatest luck. After several months, sometimes he had accumulated enough paintings outside of his commissions, and he would organise exhibitions from time to time. With Hoseok’s help. Taehyung still found it hard to stop painting, and his blank-page episodes had rarely manifested themselves. Very rarely. He had been painting non-stop for a long time. Ever since he could hold a brush between his fingers, if that wasn’t too cliché to say. So even when he didn’t have any commissions, he painted anyway, and he accumulated these canvases and paintings in every corner of his studio. Hence the need to sell them at a certain stage, hence the exhibitions; they would rent a studio or a gallery for an evening, and sell it all. Indeed, they lived in the city, and their apartment was relatively small, and didn’t have lots of space for his enormous stock of useless paintings. At the cost of concessions ― including a toilet in the bathroom, no dining room, and a bedroom of just under eight little square meters ― the two lovers had managed to clear a room of any other use other than painting. It had become his studio.

Taehyung was very grateful to Hoseok, who, with his biology studies in college, probably wanted a more concrete office than their bed, the kitchen bar, or the living room sofa. But he kept telling him that he didn’t care. That he didn’t need it, that Taehyung’s art was more important. Sometimes he would come and sit in a corner of the studio and work in silence for hours, next to Taehyung. And when he was done, he would remain silent, but he would stay still and watch Taehyung paint. He would always throw praises at his painting, telling him how he had never seen anything like it, how he felt that the dark-haired man was giving a part of himself to bring his paintings to life. Those were always the nicest compliments he gave him. And those, in his favorite place, with his favorite person, doing what he loved the most, were always the times when Taehyung felt the most peaceful and happy. He was sure that Hoseok did too.

It was thanks to him that Taehyung had never painted so well in his life, thanks to his energy, his love, his support. Even though the latter kept telling him that it was his talent, and his hard work. It was probably a bit of both. 

So, to the soft sound of music, illuminated by the small morning light that filtered through the largest windows of their entire apartment ― the studio had not been chosen at random, it was in fact the brightest room on the entire floor, in Taehyung’s opinion ―, the brunette put down his paintbrush after having dipped it in a mixture of earthy tones. Anything was still possible on this canvas. Nothing had started yet.

When he had finally finished painting this canvas, he took a step back. Then another. The canvas was quite large. He was still too close to consider his work properly. With the brush still in his right hand, he still reserved himself the right to add a final detail, perhaps on a tree, or on some foliage, or on the river he had painted. But inwardly, he knew he would go no further; he was quite satisfied with the effect, the atmosphere, the aura he wanted to give his canvas. He looked at the time. It was already almost five o’clock. 

It had taken him long enough, after all. But always so absorbed by what he was doing, he had hardly realized that he was starting to be hungry. And that on this autumn day, night had almost fallen. An ochre and orange sky was offering itself to his eyes ― and probably to the eyes of all those who lived here, in this city ―, and he stopped at his window for a moment to contemplate this incredible spectacle. The dim light of the sun was kissing his face, and he felt a little warm on his skin. Like many humans, he was fascinated by the sky. Probably because he felt unable to paint it; it was too beautiful. 

The sky had an infinity of colors; every day it changed. How many sunrises have there been on Earth since the beginning of time? And how many sunsets. The work seemed too colossal to him. No doubt it was. 

Taehyung didn’t even want to do it, to try to paint it; maybe it was beautiful because it couldn’t be put on a canvas. He didn’t pretend to have complete mastery of light; he even doubted, smiling at the thought each time, that it was a skill accessible to anyone mortal. 

All he could try, when painting, was to attempt to achieve that perfection. 

While he was again lost in his thoughts, he looked at the clock again, and realized that Hoseok might be home soon. Sometimes he came home at nine o’clock, other times at three o’clock, so Taehyung just waited for him to come back. Usually he would cook, for dinner, or watch something on TV; a documentary about anything newsworthy ― the brown haired man wasn’t very picky in terms of taste of documentary ― or a TV show he would listen to with one ear, lying on the couch and staring at the ceiling, or just music. And if it was music, he would sing, he would dance alone a little in the living room, even if “dancing” was a big word for not so much, but with the lights still off, with only the light of the sunset over the city through the windows, it was basically magical, amazing, as if he was on top of the world.

Sometimes Hoseok would come home a little early, and he would surprise him. Then, and this was fantastic, he would join him, and they would both dance like fun in the living room, looking into each other’s eyes, smiling, as if the world belonged to them, laughing, as if the world was ending. It was always in these moments that Taehyung felt like he had found his soulmate, the perfect person for him; together they were invincible. It was always them against the world. Them against the whole universe. 

Taehyung smiled unconsciously, remembering all those uncountable nights when it had happened. 

He wanted to spend the rest of his life with him. With Hoseok.

That day, it was five o’clock, Taehyung was at home, in their apartment, and as he watched the sunset, he was happy. He wanted to kiss him right now, but Hoseok wasn’t there. He pinned that idea in the back of his mind, for when he would come back home. He was just happy. It was as simple as that. 

*** 

As he walked to the living room, then the kitchen, after getting his phone from his studio, he looked to see if he had received a message from his lover, telling him what time his classes were ending. No message. He must have been absorbed in his classes. He was always coming home, anyway, so Taehyung just sent him a message, which said: 

   I hope your classes are not too boring. I finished my painting today, what do you want to eat tonight?

And he put his phone down on the kitchen bar. He wasn’t going to start cooking now; what was the point? He still didn’t have an answer from Hoseok; he needed to wait a bit, plus, it wasn’t that late anyway. So he took his CD player ― which, he had to admit, was already ten years old, because he had bought second-hand ―, into the living room. Taehyung was in a good mood, and he pressed the play button. The Adele album played again, picking up where it left off earlier, and “When We Were Young” began to echo through the small room, and it made Taehyung shiver a bit, and smile immediately. The CD wasn’t even from an original album; it was still one of those things that could only be found in small second-hand edgy music stores, which still sold burned CDs of artist compilations. 

Taehyung just got up, and began to hum and sort of waltz softly. 

He enjoyed these moments of chosen solitude. He felt in tune with himself, he felt good. He felt like being grateful, terribly grateful to life for these moments. He felt so light, that he forgot all notions, everything that was not music; gravity, time, the rest. It was nice. 

Ti-dum! 

He almost jumped at the sound of his phone’s notification ring, surprised. He had just received a message. Probably from Hoseok, now that he gave it more thought; at least he hoped so. Who else could be sending him a message at this hour, if not him? Without taking the time to turn off the music, Taehyung quietly walked over to the counter and grabbed his phone to unlock it. The message, which was indeed from Hoseok, said: 

   Hi!! I’m done, I’m on my way back, sorry, I totally forgot to tell you. I’m almost there anyway :) My classes went... not too bad X) normal to be honest...  

   Also, for dinner, I think an omelet would be a good idea? We had pasta and rice everyday last week, it’s not a bad idea for a change, I think

   How about you, how was your day? I can’t wait to see what you painted!! :) xxxx<3 

Taehyung was smiling stupidly at his screen now. All those smileys were typically him. It was Hoseok. He loved that. He could recognize Hoseok’s texts among billions of others. He knew he was becoming more and more cheesy because of him. Or thanks to him. Lame .

As he looked up, the smile didn’t leave his lips.  

An omelet? That was a good idea. He was suddenly craving a rice omelet. He went to the cupboards, to check if they indeed had rice. There was plenty in the cupboard. That is, several packets, of the first price brand, they bought at the grocery store two blocks away. As he reread Hoseok’s messages, Taehyung realized that Hoseok had just pointed out that they had already eaten a lot of rice last week. He dropped the idea of the rice omelet, and thought of adding pesto to it, and maybe cheese, if there was any left in the fridge. He opened the fridge, and there was indeed cheese. But not enough eggs.  

   “Argh,” he sighed to himself. “I’ll have to go down and buy some…”

He closed the fridge. He glanced down at his outfit. He didn’t mind going down to the mini-mart downstairs in jogging pants, as he was, but he was still in an apron. And he only realized it now. He had forgotten to take it off earlier. He walked to his studio, and untied his work apron, now smeared with paint in some places, splattered with drips in others. He hung it on his empty easel and promised himself that he would wash it soon ―  it was getting pretty dirty now. 

He then put on his shoes, closed the apartment door behind him, and went downstairs. When he arrived in the lobby of the building, he saw that their mailbox was completely full of mail. Probably a mixture of Hoseok’s internship application returns, Taehyung’s orders, invoices and some more advertisements. Again, he promised himself to empty it on the way home, and he walked past it, before pushing open the front door of their building. 

The convenience store was only a two-minute walk from the apartment. That would give Taehyung time to walk there and back, and maybe have time to come back before Hoseok returned. This thought motivated him to quicken his pace of walk. But also to hurry through the aisles, to tap his foot discreetly at the cash register, when an old lady took time to pay for her seven random items ― paper towels, sugar, pears, solid soap, eggs too, vanilla sugar in packets, a box of pasta. She must have been planning to try to make a pear cake, or a pear pie. Taehyung had no idea, he just wanted her to hurry up a little. Although he had nothing against her in particular. He always had lots of respect for grandmas.

As he walked out of the convenience store with his eggs, it was almost dark. The avenue was now lit by the artificial lights of the buildings and the headlights of the cars. The cool wind almost surprised him. With a quick step, he began his return. He was about to reach the street of their apartment building again, and almost saw the building, when as he was about to cross at the crosswalk, and he saw Hoseok on the opposite sidewalk, further down the street. He was also about to cross the street, obviously in the direction of their apartment, but on a different crosswalk. He looked, once again, sensationally handsome. 

Taehyung couldn’t count the number of times it struck him; every time he laid eyes on him, it struck him a little more, and just like the first day, just like the first time he’d seen him. And now that he was way more conscious of it, now that Hoseok was his goddamn boyfriend and that he was able to admire him everyday, he couldn’t help but wonder what kind of wonderful dream it was.

The light would soon turn green; allowing the crowd to cross the main street. New York was a relatively crowded place, but the crowd was quite pleasant to watch; and to paint, of course. He had painted it many times. 

Taehyung, in a sudden urge of foolishness, with the idea of surprising him, and being careful not to crush the egg packet, started dodging people around him and running towards Hoseok, who still hadn’t noticed him yet. They were about a little more than a hundred meters from each other. Taehyung was running the fastest he could, hoping to get there before his lover changed the sidewalk. So he was running fast. As he got closer, little by little ― even though he was still too far away to see him clearly ― he noticed that there were actually few people waiting to cross. Taehyung could only see Hoseok. Hoseok in the middle of everyone else, Hoseok in the middle of the world.

The light then turned green. 

Taehyung began to slow down. Never mind. It was too late. He didn’t run fast enough, he thought. 

He saw Hoseok put his first foot on the road. 

The dark-haired man noticed that he was wearing earphones. What kind of music was he listening to right now? He knew he liked Tears For Fears, Phoenix, and Tame Impala, these days. Some old and rocky bands Taehyung hadn’t really heard of until now. And he probably wouldn’t have heard of them if Hoseok hadn’'t told him about it. He preferred jazz, lofi, and anything more soft and chilly. It helped him to paint. But then again. Anything that interested Hoseok was fascinating. Taehyung was addicted to him, he knew. 

Hoseok took a second, and a third step. 

Taehyung was now catching his breath, after the run he had started. He was tempted to keep running, but he probably wouldn’t catch up anyway. He was too far away. And then he had a carton of eggs in his hand, so he was playing with fire. Suddenly, a shrill noise filled the street, and the sound of an engine that sounded sick to hear was heard. At any rate, Taehyung had the impression that the machine was screaming in agony. Like a majority of people around him, he turned around in the direction of the noise. It was a gray car, driving very fast, as if it couldn’t brake or steer. 

Hoseok took a fourth step, although Taehyung’s eyes were no longer on him. 

The dark-haired man turned around, towards Hoseok, who was still in the middle of the street, without seeming to be aware of the presence of the car, which still hadn’t slowed down. Then his heart began to beat even faster than it already was because of the race he just had. His legs began to move on their own, moving by their own will. He ran in the direction of Hoseok again; he knew he was too far away to catch him in time. The crazy car was going faster than he was. 

Hoseok took a fifth step. 

Taehyung felt as if his sight was completely blurred, because of his running. He wanted to shout. But what to shout? Hoseok couldn’t hear the car, which was making a hell of a noise, so how could he hear him? Could he hear his voice, over the crowd, his music, the crazy car? Probably not. And it was an awful thought for Taehyung. It was as if Hoseok was walking towards a destiny that he refused to see him take; Hoseok had to stop walking, he had to hear him, he had to see him, he had to run away, he had to not take another step. Taehyung accelerated, even though it was not possible to go faster. 

Hoseok took a sixth, a seventh step. He was now in the middle of the crosswalk, and in the middle of the main street. 

   “Hoseok!” shouted Taehyung, desperate, in a panic. 

He didn’t know what else to do. He didn’t stop shouting though. 

   “Hoseok!”

The people around him looked at him strangely. Maybe some of them understood what he was trying to do; he had no idea. He didn’t really think about it at the time, but he could feel them all looking at him. He felt like he could feel them gazing at him, in his direction. Maybe because he was running like crazy in the middle of the sidewalk, trying to dodge all the passers-by in his way, maybe because he had started shouting the name of the only one he could see. Maybe there was someone else who was going to save Hoseok from this before he could arrive at his level? Please let someone get there before me. 

   “Hoseok!”

At this point, it was no longer shouting, it was no longer screaming. Taehyung was flaying his lungs in vain. 

By the time Hoseok turned his head, after seeing people running around him, and when he saw the crazy car, it was too late. He only had time to turn his head, before being thrown violently into the air, before returning to the ground, a few meters away. The shock was so intense that Taehyung’s body stopped running of its own accord and his hands dropped the eggs on the floor while he was only a few feet away. He felt as if he could hear the crashing sound again and again in his head; he felt as if he was, he too, hit by the car. All an illusion, since he had not heard anything, and since he wasn’t even on the street either. It was an illusion. It was an illusion, wasn’t it? 

While everyone else was running around, Taehyung couldn’t hear anything but a persistent hissing sound. His world seemed to be shrinking, drastically, by the second, yet he could see it, there, in front of him. Literal hell . 

Slowly, without stopping to look in his direction, he approached. 

There was only Hoseok, lying there on the ground. There was the blood, seeing him on the ground as he was, and Taehyung was just standing there, blankly looking. And then Hoseok saw him. And he smiled at him. Hoseok was smiling at him.  

   “Taehyung.”

That simple word completed bringing the tears that had been threatening to the dark-haired man’s eyes to the surface without him even realizing it. 

   “Yes.” he managed to croak. 

He wanted to say something, something, something else, anything, but the words were stuck in his throat. He knelt down, took his hand in his. His tears redoubled when he realized that Hoseok was trying to look in the direction of their hands, without really succeeding, and that he could not even squeeze properly his hand in return either. As if it was too much of an effort to do so. As if he was way too weak to hold it in return.

A kind of shock then ran through his spine. His heart revulsed. He emerged from this strange trance, and dialed the emergency number, trying to control his tears, which were blurring his vision. 

   “Taehyung.”

   “Yes.” he repeated, waiting for a response from the emergency services. 

This time, it had been less difficult to answer him. Still, he had dropped a few more tears. It was as if he was the one of the two who needed the reassurance the most. Panicked, he ended up having someone on the phone. A man on the other end of the line answered, and Taehyung mechanically gave the man the coordinates of the accident.

His voice trembled. He couldn’t do more. He couldn’t do it. The man told him that some medical help was already on its way. Taehyung hung up. He didn’t know why he had done this. He had done it, and he had put his phone down somewhere ― somewhere ― before returning to Hoseok. He held his hand with both of his. They were full of blood. So were Taehyung’s knees. His shoes probably were, too.  

   “Taehyung.”

His voice was very weak, yet Taehyung could only hear him. The constant chattering of the street was gone. He had a strange feeling. Of deja vu . Maybe because this was the third time Hoseok had said his name. 

   “Yes.” he replied, trying to disguise his titanic helplessness and fear. Even more masterful. Taehyung was scared. 

He couldn’t stop the tears on his cheeks, and he hated it. He wanted to be strong, right now, for Hoseok, not to let him see him like this. He tried to wipe them away once, but they kept flowing, and he had just smeared blood on his cheeks. He didn’t care though. 

   “Taehyung, I―. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

The brunette didn’t answer. It didn’t matter. He had a feeling it wasn’t going to be okay at all. But he didn’t feel like contradicting Hoseok at a time like this either. So he squeezed his hand a little tighter, even though he felt like he could feel him leaving slowly. 

   “You have to live, you. I couldn’t save us both.” Hoseok seemed to struggle a bit to breathe. He coughed. “We’ll meet again in another life, right?”

Taehyung didn’t understand. 

   “What are you talking about? Is it the shock?”

Hoseok sighed softly. He gently raised his arms, on his own, and put his hands around Taehyung’s face. His hands were so cold and weak that Taehyung froze and fell silent.

   “It’s okay. Promise me you’ll be okay.”

He was asking this for Taehyung. Not for himself. There was not an ounce of fear in Hoseok’s eyes. But oh to be okay without him?

   “Yes.” repeated Taehyung, not thinking a word of it.

What did he mean, by “it’ll be okay”? Without Hoseok? Never. 

   “I love you.”

Did he want to leave? Where to go? Of all the “I love you’s” he’d ever said to him, none had sounded so much like a “goodbye”. Taehyung hated it. 

   “Stay.”

   “I’m not going anywhere.” he replied, his hands still around his face, which were starting to slide down and fall limply to the floor. 

   “Stay with me.”

   “I’m staying.”

   “Always.” Taehyung almost implored, crying without being able to stop. He wished he could stop crying, to see Hoseok’s face better through those damn tears. But he couldn’t, his mind, his eyes refused to do so. Refused to let him see Hoseok like that. 

   “Always.” Hoseok replied, repeating, and closing his eyes. 

Then the air seemed very heavy to Taehyung; gravity seemed to have become a distorted notion, as if the weight of the whole planet Earth was crashing down on his shoulders. No , as if the entire Universe was collapsing on him. Taehyung slumped, as if under the weight of an unknown force. 

Reality suddenly hit him. Was he dying? 

Please do something. Don’t take Hoseok away from me. 

Don’t take Hoseok away from the world. 

Like a random firework, like a cry from the heart, like a bottle in the sea of despair. 

Then he suddenly felt as if he was gradually losing his consciousness, a sort of black veil came before his eyes, and Taehyung fell in a thud to the ground, beside Hoseok. Their hands still intertwined in Hoseok’s blood. The last thing he remembered before he left completely was a lyre playing, from very, far a strange song, and a strange and beautiful forest calling him. As if it was inviting him.

*** 

   “Hm…” emerged Taehyung. 

He felt a weight on his chest. It was dark. His feet felt a little cold. 

Next to him, lying down, because he was lying in a bed, their bed, was Hoseok. Leaning against his chest. His cheek on Taehyung’s stomach. He had almost the whole blanket on him. But Taehyung didn’t really care at that moment. He, in fact, didn’t care at all.

Hoseok? 

Hoseok was alive? On his right? Taehyung now noticed that he was sweating. Had he had a bad dream? He reached out his hand to Hoseok, closed his arm around him, in a hug, and he did meet his skin. He was holding Hoseok in his arms. Who was breathing softly. Taehyung shivered. It was cold in the room. They were in autumn. The night was still there, outside, in the sky, he could see it in the sky, through the window. He just didn’t have the blanket on him anymore, cause goddamn Hoseok had it.

The dark-haired man slowly removed himself from his partner, to get up. Once he was out of bed, without having woken up Hoseok, he put on a random sweatshirt, which was lying on the floor for a while, now, and he left the room in silence. Even though his hand had touched Hoseok, even though his eyes had seen him at his side, even though he had felt him on top of him, even though he had felt his weight, even though his brain knew that it was just a bad dream, he still had this paranoia that it was not a bad dream, that everything he had dreamed about had really happened. This happened to him often. Often right after his nightmares. But he would always eventually shake off the uneasiness, and go back to bed after a glass of water, or after a snack, or a look at the window. 

Yet, that night, Taehyung was strangely stuck; it was as if the feeling didn’t want to let go of him. He could walk around the living room, the kitchen, drink a glass of water, but nothing made him feel better. He looked out the window. There were no clouds in the sky. It would surely be sunny later on. For the moment, he could only see the stars, because the city lights were all turned off. Without any distinction. It was about three in the morning. 

He ran a hand over his face. He put his glass of water on the bar. He was tired. He wanted to sleep. But every time he closed his eyes, he had detailed flashes of this dream. Of Hoseok crossing, then events that followed very quickly before his eyes; the car, the blood, Hoseok barely holding his hand, him closing his eyes, Taehyung felt as if a knife was stabbed in his heart again, then he remembered he heard an instrument, and then he fainted. It was as if all these images appeared to him in chronological order and simultaneously at once, in a fraction, so that they came to him even if he closed his eyes only for an instant. Taehyung had to keep his eyes wide open. 

And first of all, what was this strange ending? Why was he hearing a lyre? Because the dark-haired man could hear it, but not see it. To be more precise, he was hearing it, in his dream, without seeing it; and he knew that it was... a lyre. Taehyung knew vaguely what it was, but had never played one in his life. He didn’t understand. What was the link in between? It didn’t make sense.

Plus, he couldn’t convince himself that it was a dream. 

It was as if his mind refused to draw the line between it being a memory and it being a random nightmare.  

Taehyung walked, and he headed to his studio. Where he went when he needed to feel better. It was his favorite room. Even though there were memories of Hoseok all over the house, even though he felt at home everywhere, even if he felt more reassured in each piece of this apartment, as long as Hoseok was with him, his studio was still where he felt best. He would sit down, calmly, breathe, forget about this damn nightmare, and go back to sleep. Or paint, if he couldn’t forget it; make a painting of it if needed and then he could go to sleep. Maybe by then it would be long past daylight, but it didn’t matter, he would sleep at noon if he had to. 

He opened the door to his studio, and he had a very bad feeling when he first stepped inside. It was as if this was not his studio. There was something different. Taehyung didn’t know what. He just had the impression it was unfamiliar. There were several small details that made him pause and wonder a bit; what exactly was bothering him. 

The apron didn’t have paint on the pockets, where Taehyung reflexively put his brushes usually, it wasn’t speckled with paint, it wasn’t even hanging on the easel anymore. Where he had put it down yesterday after painting his canvas. 

His eyes widened, a weight on his stomach was felt, and he had the urge to throw up. 

Because on the easel was not the apron. On the easel was a blank canvas. The canvas that was supposed to be representing a forest that he was supposed to have painted the day before. It was nowhere to be found. Even his palette had been magically cleaned. No more evidence of the paint he used yesterday. The tarp was folded up, on the shelf below, against the wall, in its usual place. Taehyung approached the pile of old newspapers he usually used to protect the floor, shaking. He tried to repeat to himself that this was impossible, that it couldn’t happen. 

The newspapers on top of the pile were talking about the arrival of summer. 

Taehyung let out a scream. 

With his hand in front of his mouth, crouching in front of the shelf, he slowly backed away. 

   “This can’t be―.” he whispered in terror, his hand still in front of his mouth.

Sharp images of what he had experienced in his dream, or the day before ― he wasn’t quite sure what was what anymore ― came back into his head, as if to haunt him. Images that were too precise, too clear, too strange. Images that looked less and less like a simple bad dream. 

What was it, then? Memories of the day before? No way. Hoseok was there, in their bed, sleeping. And the painting―.

A premonition? Hoseok would die? Disappear? 

The vision of his body flying through the air, thrown, landing with a dull crack came back to Taehyung’s memory, and he screamed in horror, hands on his temples. 

Gasping for breath, and moving backwards, he had now reached the chest of drawers, which contained his painting materials. Clumsily, and still on his knees, he leaned abruptly against the cabinet, causing a brush-filled pots to wobble and fall to the floor with a crash that seemed to be amplified by the room, grazing his shoulder, and nearly landing on him. Taehyung was completely out of breath.

At that exact moment, Hoseok came into the studio, looking panicked and breathless too. Taehyung could only see him in the corner of his eye, while he stared at the wall in front of him, with a blank stare. 

Was Hoseok going to disappear? Hoseok was going to disappear.

Taehyung wanted to run far away, somewhere, to escape what he felt he had discovered, what he had the impression to know now. 

Hoseok rushed to him, knelt by his side, and held him in his arms, as tears slowly rolled down Taehyung’s cheeks. He kissed his hair. He rocked him. He held him tightly. Taehyung’s heart tightened as he realized that he might lose this. Hoseok . He didn’t want to think about how he had come to this conclusion, or about the future. He wanted to stop time, and keep Hoseok with him forever. He did not want to relive what he had definitely experienced. For he was sure now, he had lived it. But Hoseok was by his side again, without any trace of blood, without any hint of his painting, without any evidence of what had happened the day before. It was as if the day before had started again. 

Without stopping to stare into the void, he put his arms around Hoseok’s waist, and rested his head on his chest. He enjoyed his warmth in the cold room, in the cold night. The tears continued to roll down his cheeks, but there was Hoseok with him. There was Hoseok.

As Hoseok held him in his arms, Taehyung saw himself painting, on a canvas, as if he was in a memory. He was painting Hoseok, but he was not in his studio; he was in a garden, filled with hydrangeas, with yellowish stone columns. He felt himself crying. He could feel the tears running down his cheeks. In real life, and in this kind of lucid dream; in both, Taehyung was crying. The Hoseok in the painting was blurr; but he was painting with a strange white tunique, surrounded by flowers.

That night, they spent a long time in each other’s arms. Hoseok didn’t ask any questions, he just hugged Taehyung tightly quietly, and that was all Taehyung needed at that moment. 

After a while, Taehyung felt guilty, for many things ― the fact that he didn’t tell him anything, the fact that he felt responsible for his life, especially ― but also for being responsible for Hoseok’s sleep for the next day. He couldn’t afford to wake up at noon like Taehyung; he had classes. He had already woken him up in the middle of the night. 

Oh, sure , Taehyung, if he’d had the courage, could have explained to him what he had seen, experienced, he didn’t know, but maybe he could have told him about it. If he had been strong enough. But there, at three o’clock in the morning, in the dark night, and still confused and more terrified than ever, Taehyung was simply stunned, paralyzed. Physically and mentally. Anesthetized. He was afraid to talk about it. He could have talked to Hoseok, and told him not to go out today. But he couldn’t do that. Besides, he couldn’t stop him from leaving their apartment forever. 

Taehyung was terrified, and so he forced himself back into his bed, silently, trying to be as reassuring as possible to Hoseok. 

*** 

   “Okay. I’ve got my keys,” Hoseok said casually in the entrance of their apartment. He had put on his shoes.  

   “Hm.” Taehyung replied, as he lay on the couch. 

Taehyung was still mentally numb. He didn’t dare to tell Hoseok about it. What if he didn’t believe him? He would think he was going crazy. Even though he knew that Hoseok had unerring confidence in him. He was still afraid to tell him about that. He wasn’t himself sure of what was happening, in fact. And for a good million other reasons. 

How? For what? Why? 

On the other hand he felt he had to say something. Hold him back. Say anything to make him stay. But what if it was impossible to avoid? Taehyung was brooding.  

   “I haven’t forgotten my homework. My notes either.”

A silence. 

   “Nor my transportation card.” added Hoseok from the door. 

In his tone, the dark-haired man sensed concern. 

   “Hey.”

Hoseok had just popped his head over the back of the couch, and leaned against it. Taehyung hadn’t heard him coming. 

   “It’s okay, Tae. Are you okay?” he asked, looking at Taehyung in the eye. 

He had that look. Taehyung was torn. He could feel tears welling up in his eyes, imagining that this might be the last time they’d see each other, that they’d ever speak.  

Instead, he breathed softly, before asking.

   “What time will you be home today?”

   “5 p.m.. Y’know… Like every Monday.”

Taehyung’s heart missed another beat. What did he mean, by “like every Monday”? Wasn’t today Tuesday? Monday was the day before.  

   “What do you mean, Monday? It’s Tuesday,” he replied mindlessly, out of the blue. 

Hoseok opened his eyes wide. He looked really surprised. A bit panicked. He looked like he understood something. He took his phone out of his pocket, and looked at the date. At least Taehyung assumed he was looking at the current date, but he couldn’t see his boyfriend’s screen.  

   “Well, yes it is, babe, look.” he finally replied, pointing to his screen — which of course showed his phone calendar. And today’s date: Monday, October 20th.  

Taehyung straightened up, to make sure he was reading correctly.  

   “Impossible,” he whispered, to himself, so low that he wasn’t even sure Hoseok had heard him. “Impossible,” he repeated.  

Hoseok was now looking at him funny. Here he was, thinking he was crazy. Taehyung hated it, he hated it. He didn’t blame Hoseok — anyone would be surprised to hear someone say that kind of thing, that today was not today —, but he was rather hating himself for it at that moment. And he could have sworn he read “Monday, October 20th” on Hoseok’s phone. It must have been a bug. There was no way that the Monday he’d experienced had been erased. It was as if he was reliving the same day. There was no such phenomenon; except in the movies maybe, and even then.  

How could it have happened again? It was physically impossible.  

   “Well, I’m off, I’m late,” Hoseok said.  

Taehyung had a feeling of déjà vu, again. As if he had heard this sentence before.  

   “Get some rest, I’ll be back tonight.” continued his boyfriend, before adding, “I think it’s wiser if you stay home today.”

No way. It was basically not even an option. Staying here, when Hoseok was maybe not safe outside? Stupidly waiting for him to come back when he might not even come back? No way for Taehyung. He felt like he had been under tension for hours, but he couldn’t take it anymore. 

As Hoseok moved away from the couch, and started to open the door of their apartment with his keys, Taehyung wanted to scream. To beg him to stay. To explain everything to him. But Hoseok stepped through the door, gently closing the door behind him, while the dark-haired man watched him disappear without any reaction. The same weight came back on his chest, the same as when he had seen Hoseok yesterday. Or that night. He didn’t know, damn it, he was completely confused. He took his phone out of his pocket to check the date. He needed to confirm to himself that Hoseok’s phone had only had a bug and that today was indeed Tuesday. So he unlocked his phone, and what he saw on the screen took his breath away. Because his screen showed Monday, October 20th . 

   “No way,” Taehyung said softly, so softly that it was almost scary. “No fucking way.”

He opened his internet browser, and typed in the search bar: today’s date; his phone also showed him Monday. The official national website; still Monday. He turned on the TV, hoping that this was all a vast nightmare, from which he would soon wake up; all he could read instead was this: 

Monday, October 20th. 

Now sitting in front of the television on the couch, he froze. Taehyung refused to believe it. Everything he’d seen, everything he’d felt — because he had done more than just watch it, and be passive, he knew it —, it had been more than a simple dream; he had lived it, he was sure of it. It felt too real, too detailed. You didn’t have such a smooth, continuous flow of those logical and realistic events for so long — a whole damn day — in a simple dream, did you? So how? How was it possible? To be Monday again?

It was as if his day had simply started again. Like a repeat mode. Like a reset. Like he had a second chance. 

*** 

All Taehyung did that day was to dwell on the events that had happened to him, and to stir up his dark thoughts all over the apartment. He did not touch the easel and the blank canvas in his studio at all. At some point during the day, around noon, he had gone into the room and contemplated the whitish canvas, for a while, before leaving the room without a word after much reflection. 

There had been these strange visions, too. 

As if a part of himself was trying to send him messages. In a language he didn’t really understand. 

He had had sudden mental projections, which came to his mind as if he was thinking about something, except that they weren’t his own thoughts. At least it seemed like it. And it didn’t make sense with the course of his thoughts.

For example, he was nostalgic, thinking about his meeting with Hoseok, in a bookstore, which was a tea shop full of cats, which Taehyung used to frequent before he met him, until he had seen him between the shelves, petting one of the cats, Cinnamon, Taehyung’s favorite cat. He then waited a few days, meeting him there everyday, and he ended up going up to him and he eventually asked him out and his number. Taehyung was obviously thinking a lot about Hoseok that day. Anyway, Taehyung was nostalgic, and then suddenly, as if it was one of his memories, he had seen Hoseok, in a very green and flowery forest, in an extraordinary light, as if he had been caught in a single ray of sunlight. It looked like a painting. But the brunette had no memory that closely resembled that, which he found almost regrettable given the beauty of the memory in question. That wasn’t his. He was almost fully sure of it — the doubt because he was still having them suspicious memories.

Taehyung just felt like he was going crazy. Several times during the day he had felt like he was viewing someone else’s souvenirs. 

It was almost half past four now. There were only a few remaining hours before it was the same hour as Hoseok’s car accident of the day before. Taehyung was still walking in circles in the apartment, and he felt as if the walls of the room were slowly closing in on him. He walked mechanically in the living room, in circles still, until he stopped in the middle of the room.  

   “Argh!” he let out in frustration, hands over his face. “Fuck.”

He headed into their room, with a determined step, before opening his laptop and turning it on. He unlocked it, and opened a web page, before typing the following keywords into the search bar.

“lyre symbol”

He clicked on the first site he saw.

The lyre is the attribute of Hermes, its inventor, of Apollo, who was a very good musician, which is a major icon of the lyre, but especially of Orpheus, who inherited a seven-stringed lyre from his predecessor, Apollo. After adding two more strings, by playing this lyre, he could charm anyone, even the wildest animals, even the most tenacious gods. 

More articles on the lyre?  

More articles on Apollo?  

More articles on Orpheus? 

Follow our newsletter here. 

Taehyung’s mythological references were somewhat limited, he had to admit, but he didn’t really expect there to be so many Greek myths related to this quite random  instrument. The one he knew the least about, not to say he knew nothing about its associated myth, was Orpheus. Curious, he clicked on Orpheus. 

Orpheus inherited a seven-stringed lyre, and after adding two more strings, he could, with the help of this famous lyre, charm the wildest animals, the rocks and the trees, which moved to listen to him, soften the fiercest beasts and monsters, and the toughest men, the most tenacious gods. The legend even tells that he would have charmed Hades, the god of the Underworld, the most terrible, in order to accomplish the quest of his life, that of love. 

    The legend of Orpheus. 

Orpheus, from his birth, had an exceptional predisposition for music and poetry, and was a very gifted musician. He charmed everyone around him, and was loved by all. One day, while returning from a long quest, he met Eurydice, a forest spirit, beautiful and fascinating, his future muse, and it was love at first sight. He fell madly in love with her and asked for her hand in marriage. She accepted but she had difficulty leaving her beloved forest, so she often wandered around in it. One day, she got lost, and, not caring enough, she stepped on a snake, which bit her, and killed her instantly. 

Orpheus, desperate, and not knowing how to live without her, took his lyre with the intention of going down to the Underworld, to find Hades, the god of the Underworld, and to convince him to give Eurydice back to him. He enchanted all the monsters that stood in front of him thanks to his music, he charmed the guardian demons, and even Cerberus, the dog that guarded the door to Hell. He found Hades, and Persephone, his wife, and moved them too with his music and beautiful lyre. They then granted him his wish, on one condition, not to look at Eurydice until he returned to the mortal world, at the surface. 

Desperate and in love, Orpheus went to the surface, but just before reaching it, he could not hold back any longer, and, in order to verify that it was indeed his beloved one, and not a demon, that Hades would have replaced him in order to trick him, he turned around and saw Eurydice disappearing into the limbo of the Underworld for eternity. He tried to go back down to the Underworld a second time to try his luck again, without success. Unhappy, he ended up dying of sadness and loneliness, without his soulmate.

   “...”

Taehyung was stunned. He had a strange feeling about the whole thing. The lyre playing and enchanting everything... it sounded like the weird song he had heard before he passed out. And the story of the forest muse. That was Hoseok. He felt like laughing, nervously. That “memory” of him that he had seen, in the forest, in the halo of light. Or the one of him in the middle of flowers in his canvas. And the love at first sight thing, it reminded him of his meeting with Hoseok. The real one, in the cat library, not the one in the forest. Unless it was the same one? Taehyung was, once again, confused. Too confused. What did it mean? He had too many questions for too few answers. 

He was seeing memories of Hoseok, though he didn’t have any memories of it himself. It was strange and hard to put a word to it. 

Suddenly it was doing that again; he was seeing memories that were foreign to his memory. He perceived Hoseok, once again, as if he were the center of the universe of the person whose memories he was viewing. He saw Hoseok, in a white outfit, his brown hair curled, looking at him, smiling. He was, of course, sublime. But this time, Taehyung noticed something else. Both of them were in a kind of... house, like the Roman villas at that time, with stone columns, carved, walls with mosaics, furnished with some kind of sofas, covered with red cushions, almost purple, grape color. Taehyung had the impression that he was in another epoch. With Hoseok. It didn’t make sense anymore, but at this point, the brown-haired man didn’t pay attention to it anymore. In this memory, although it was still blurred, he knew that he was in a place called “ Hydrangea Villa ”. Although he did not see this name marked anywhere. He just knew it. These snatches of thought had a strange effect on him. But he felt as if he was beginning to understand what it meant.

Just as he had more or less accepted the idea that his Monday had begun again, no doubt following the shock of Hoseok’s “death” on the first Monday, he was now open to any concept. And now, his instincts were slowly telling him that this was something intrinsic to Taehyung. Something that was part of him. Like a part of himself, which would have lived ... elsewhere. At another time, like another life. A parallel life. A previous one. Something alike. Even if it seemed completely crazy, of course, but this day was just as crazy for the dark-haired man; for a crazy day, crazy ideas. Anyway, he had no other explanation for it. And the presence of Hoseok at his side in these memories comforted him a little in his idea; it would mean that he was in this other parallel life with him? Taehyung liked the idea. 

But why had this memory just come to him all of a sudden? Right at the time he had found an article about the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice. A myth that reminded him a little of his first Monday, October 20th, by the way. With this idea of a second chance, of going to look for his soulmate in the Underworld, to save him from death, it reminded him of the accident of Hoseok and this second Monday. Without the lyre, without Hades, without the snake. And without saving him, even if it was a fail in the myth; Taehyung, he, in this life, didn’t get to save Hoseok by his own means a single time, yet. Or at least, he didn’t feel like that at all; he rather felt useless. But still. The main idea was here, if he was looking carefully at details.

Suddenly, Taehyung remembered something. When he had felt Hoseok leave, before his eyes — this memory was horrible and unbearable to him, he had tried to separate himself from it and forget it at all costs since the beginning of his day — he had made a wish. It would be more correct to say that he had made a last-hope prayer, to the sky, to God, to anyone, even if he was not a believer. Obviously, at the time Taehyung had been desperate. Now that he thought about it, he must have begged the universe to do something.  

Please do something. Don’t take Hoseok away from me. 

Don’t take Hoseok away from the world. 

Something like that. He remembered that, and even passed out right after that. Before he woke up this morning next to Hoseok. 

Everything fitted, strangely enough. Everything fitted, and Taehyung wanted to believe it but was afraid to believe it. Even their meeting, at first sight — well, Taehyung, just like Orpheus, had seen his beloved before falling in love with him at first sight — was quite similar.  

He would have had a previous life. With Hoseok. And this previous life was not less than the life of Orpheus and Eurydice? Taehyung didn’t even know if it was possible; a myth was not meant to be real, to be true. It was supposed to be a simple legend, a story. It was almost too big to be true.  

   “Wait a minute.” he said aloud, before rereading the end of the article. 

Desperate and in love, Orpheus went to the surface, but just before reaching it, he could not hold back any longer, and, in order to verify that it was indeed his beloved one, and not a demon, that Hades would have replaced him in order to trick him, he turned around and saw Eurydice disappearing into the limbo of the Underworld for eternity. He tried to go back down to the Underworld a second time to try his luck again, without success. Unhappy, he ended up dying of sadness and loneliness, without his soulmate.

Orpheus had only had one chance to recover Eurydice. But she was still dead in the end. Orpheus had missed his one and only chance. Taehyung, on the other hand, had not yet wasted this second chance, if he stuck to his hypothesis. He had no intention of wasting it. He had no intention of seeing Hoseok disappear a second time, like the day before, before his eyes. It had been hell on earth, he had felt himself dying inside. As if a part of himself was literally leaving his body. 

It was almost five o’clock now. The time at which he had gone out the day before, to buy eggs... before fainting and starting his Monday again. The dark-haired man did not want to rethink and replay the shock. He got up from the bed, went to the kitchen and opened the fridge. Obviously, there were not enough eggs. To make an omelet. Since the day reseted, of course the eggs weren’t going to be in the fridge. Plus he didn’t even bring back the eggs, now that he thought about it, since he fainted in the middle of the street.

Then a detail struck him; he hadn’t received any text messages from Hoseok yet, just as he had completely forgotten to send them to him as he had done on the first Monday. He slammed the door of the fridge, rushed to his shoes, and left the apartment in a hurry. He didn’t bother to use the elevator, and he ran down the stairs, before arriving in the street. He was a little panicked and stressed. Taehyung didn’t want to think about the possibility that he might be too late to get downstairs and that he couldn’t do anything to save Hoseok. He didn’t want to think about that. 

Looking left and right, scanning the street, he looked for Hoseok. He didn’t see him, so instinctively he moved closer to the place where the accident had happened the day before, without stopping to look around. The crosswalk. But nothing.

Eyes riveted on his phone, the dark-haired man checked if Hoseok had not sent him a message, by chance, now. But no. No single text from him. 

Taehyung was starting to stress. To panic. Was it too late already? If it was, Hoseok had already left. Without Taehyung being able to do anything to... This thought increased his stress exponentially. The fact that he was totally helpless. Potentially unable to do anything, unable to try to save him.

He put his phone away in his sweatshirt pocket, before raising his head. He was going to walk down this street, until he came across him. He wasn’t going back to the apartment without being completely reassured. Or without receiving a text from his boyfriend, assuring him that he was home, safe. 

Now he stood on the sidewalk; waiting for the crosswalk light to turn green. Once it did, he crossed. It wasn’t the rush hour yet. 

And before he was in the middle of the crosswalk, he felt himself hit at full speed to his left. He felt himself take off, as if he was feeling it from a third-person perspective, from the outside. He felt himself hit the bumper, then the hood of the car. Before he felt himself land heavily on the ground. He didn’t feel any pain, at first. He was dumbstruck, stunned. His brain was completely numb. He was not thinking properly anymore. At first he saw the sky, although everything was blurred. He was lying on his back, although he didn’t know how he got there. He saw the sky, the autumn clouds. The buildings around him, the streetlights. Then he noticed the other cars around him, on the road. Ah, yes, that’s right. He was in the middle of the street. Probably on the sidewalk; he didn’t know, he was too numb for that. He had been hit by a yellow car. Bright yellow. A cab? There were a lot of cabs in New York. How did he get there again? An accident. A car accident? Wasn’t this supposed to happen to Hoseok? With a gray car. Not a cab. Hoseok! If Taehyung didn’t get up quickly, trouble would happen to him. But his limbs, his muscles refused to activate, to move. It was as if he was paralyzed. His brain wanted to move. But his body did not. But if he was stuck here, he couldn’t do anything for Hoseok. He wouldn’t be able to see Hoseok. Was he going to die here? Maybe he had hit the car instead of Hoseok, and the other was safe now. He didn’t want to die though. Even though he might have saved him, he knew how devastating staying alive without the other could be. He had experienced it the day before. Bitterly, he felt his vision blur more and more again. More than it already was. He wanted to blink to try to make his vision clearer, but a searing pain in the back of his skull hit him and he grunted. 

   “Arhh.” was the only sound that he was able to make.

He had lost all sense of time. Had it been an eternity? Or just a few seconds? Was no one concerned about his condition? No one. His head hurt. And his whole body, all of a sudden, like a shockwave that would only happen now. The pain hit him in waves; with each wave, the pain was stronger, more persistent, more gripping. He was close to squealing, like a dying animal. Taehyung didn’t know if he wasn’t already whimpering. He had landed on the edge of the sidewalk. It was a good thing, otherwise he might have been run over a second time and died for good. He had to stay awake, to stay alive, and find Hoseok. He had to be strong. Those were the only thoughts he had at that moment. He had to stay awake. He didn’t know if he would ever wake up if he closed his eyes. He felt like he was on the edge. Of what? He didn’t know. Taehyung really forced his eyes wide open, but the pain held him between his fingers, and he didn’t feel like he could hold on much longer. Just like moving his body, moving his lips, his vocal cords, was impossible; he was completely paralyzed, in shock. It was a different shock from the day before, when he had faced Hoseok; the day before it had been psychological, now it was physical. He couldn’t even speak anymore. It was a very strange sensation. An even stronger wave of pain echoed through his body, and Taehyung almost felt like his body was shaking in a shiver too. He gritted his teeth. As he felt himself leaving, little by little, his vision narrowed, and darkened, he could hardly breathe, and when the next wave of pain came he felt as if his body was infinitely heavy, he felt his throat tighten, and he felt himself leaving little by little, far, far away. 

*** 

   “Taehyung.” he heard. Like a whisper. 

He couldn’t see anything, but he could hear that soft voice. Familiar. He wanted to keep his eyes closed, but that voice calling him softly made him want to see the face of the person it came from. He knew that he knew this person, but he had trouble discerning who it was coming from. Every time he seemed to put a finger on it, the name of the person in question escaped him. He couldn’t figure it out. 

   “Taehyung?” The voice was a little bit more concerned this time. But it still sounded quite distant to the brown-haired man’s ears. 

He definitely couldn’t make out this person’s face, even though his vision was getting less and less blackened and less and less blurred. It was as if his brain did not know how to recognize faces anymore. A very disturbing feeling, to Taehyung’s opinion.

He realized that the person knew his first name. Who knew his name? He didn’t know where he was. Why was the floor so uncomfortable? And why was he lying down? On the floor. On the floor? He could see curly, brown hair, and a beautiful face. A very beautiful face. Hoseok? 

   “Taehyung!” This time he heard the voice fully, at its full volume, and he realized that it was very much far from gentle; far from even just slightly concerned. 

The voice — he recognized Hoseok’s voice now, and his face, even though he was still kind of disoriented — his voice was completely panicked, desperate, stressed. He sounded heavily shocked, and almost broken. Taehyung wanted to answer and say something to him, to reply. Anything. But he felt like his vocal cords were still on standby. 

   “Hoseok.” His voice sounded more raspy and creaky than he expected, but Taehyung had managed to at least make a sound. He just hoped it had been understandable to Hoseok’s ears. Maybe it wasn’t even Hoseok. Maybe it was another person, completely unknown. 

   “It’s me, it’s me,” the man in front of him replied, his hands cuping panickingly his face, his hands on Taehyung’s cheeks. Who was reassured. He didn’t know why , but he was reassured, knowing that it was him. He didn’t remember much, but he remembered Hoseok very well now. “Taehyung, damn it.”

Hoseok put a hand on his shoulder. Taehyung felt a strange pain radiating from that area of contact, but he didn’t say anything. He was happy to have a connection, any connection, with him. In the pain, their contact was a little reassuring and comforting. He felt like hugging him. It was impossible, so he just imagined it.

Hoseok hung up the phone. And Taehyung felt like asking why he was calling, and to whom. Taehyung sensed that there were people around them, maybe a few feet away, though he wasn’t sure.  

   “You had to get out of the apartment.” Hoseok, still looking as panicked as ever, sighed, “I—. What if— I couldn’t save you a second time.” his eyes shone. Taehyung wanted to know why. Was he going to cry?  

   “What do you mean, a second time?” Taehyung was amazed that he could manage to have such clear thoughts, such a sharp mind, such an almost understandable voice. More than at first anyway. 

Hoseok took a deep breath. A tear rolled down his right cheek.  

   “I—.” he searched for words.  

Without really knowing why he wanted to, Taehyung wanted to tell Hoseok about the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice and his research of the day. Now that he thought about it. Before he couldn’t tell him anymore. He felt it was a significant piece of information.  

   “Do you know the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice?” he threw out randomly, as Hoseok remained silent. “I found out about this today. Looks like us.”

He doubted that it was even understandable to his boyfriend. But he was too tired to repeat. Hoseok, on the other hand, looked surprised. Shocked, even.  

   “What?” he asked, dazed.  

   “Yes, well, that’s not really relevant, I know, bu—”.

   “No, no, I mean—. You... You know about that?” he threw out, cutting off the word. He sounded like he totally knew what Taehyung was talking about, though he himself wasn’t quite sure what he had found. Strange. “How? I mean, how can you...?”

So Taehyung continued on his way. Since it was all he had in mind at that exact moment.

   “Yesterday it was Monday, and I saw you get into a car accident. It was horrible. And this morning, you were alive again.”

Hoseok brought a hand to his mouth. He was completely overwhelmed, the dark-haired man could have bet anything on it. Hoseok was crying now.  

   “Taehyung. Taehyung.” he repeated, clearly overwhelmed. “This is the second time I’ve seen you have this accident. And two days ago, trying to protect you, I had the accident instead of you. It’s like time is completely distorted...”

The brunette wanted to move. To stand up, to breathe better, because at that moment he felt like he was getting hit a second time. 

   “Saturday?” Asked Taehyung stupidly. 

Hoseok nodded his head. 

   “I thought I would never relive that moment, seeing you leave in my arms, it was a living hell, but when I saw you just now, this happening again, I—, I—”

Taehyung, with immense effort, lifted his arm by his mental strength alone although it felt like it weighed a ton, and he brought his hand close to Hoseok’s face, to rest it on his cheek. He rubbed his thumb against his skin, and he felt like crying; when had it ever been so hard, so painful to touch him, when it had always been the exact opposite; when it had always been a comfort until now. He wiped away his tears, though they didn’t stop, much to Taehyung’s dismay, before he felt his arm lose all strength. Maybe his arm was broken. All bones broken. Taehyung was broken . Hoseok had to experience the same thing as him, two times, and he didn’t even suspect it. It was even more painful to know the kind of ache he must have experienced.

He felt bad, terribly bad. He had noticed in the meantime that he was bleeding. He didn’t know how much, whether he was bleeding a lot or a little, but he had put some on Hoseok’s beautiful face. That was his biggest regret, before he closed his eyes again, and plunged into the black coldness of this painfully comfortable sleep. Nevertheless, he felt a weight stumping at his side before falling into a deep sleep. 

*** 

Beep. 

Beep. 

Beep. 

What was that noise. 

Taehyung felt as if the sound was piercing his eardrums. It was very unpleasant, knowing that his body felt numb, completely anesthetized. The only thing he felt, that he perceived, that he felt, was this noise, very uncomfortable. 

He did, however, have a pressure in his right hand. A warm touch. And a weight on his right side, too. Even though he hadn’t opened his eyes, he felt conscious. That was something. He was slowly starting to have memories of the last time he’d been conscious pop into his head. He remembered looking for Hoseok. The memories were coming slowly. Very slowly, too slowly. He was impatient. He remembered that he was looking for Hoseok. He had forgotten to send him a message. He had gone out into the street. He hadn’t found him. Oh, yes, that’s right. He had been hit by a cab. That was why he was in a bed. Laying down. It was quite soft to be there; he could feel the fabric.

The dark-haired man opened his eyes. 

The noise came from a machine next to the bed. Some kind of electrocardiograph. His heart rate was displayed on the machine’s screen. It was pretty regular. The beeping noise was not as loud as it was at first. It didn’t seem as loud anyway. Next to the electrocardiograph was a catheter, connected to his right arm. And finally, as he lowered his gaze, following the tube of the catheter, he saw Hoseok next to his arm. 

Still, again, by his side. 

Hoseok was asleep, his head in his arms, crossed and resting on the edge of the bed. He had one hand slipped into his. That was the warm touch he felt. He was sitting on a random chair. His hair was tickling Taehyung’s arm. The soft contact made him realize he was feeling again. He wanted to put his hand on his head, and he managed to move his arm. Very slowly, but he managed to move his arm; his body remembered that he had not been able to move for a while. But now he could. Then he put his hand on Hoseok’s head. Hoseok was sleeping peacefully. His hair was very soft. Taehyung’s senses were heightened. At least, he felt that way. 

He felt good. 

   “Hmm.” breathed Hoseok, very softly.

Maybe it was the white room, the white sheets, everything immaculate around them, but Taehyung had the impression that everything was intensely soft at that moment.

   “Ho—.” He tried. Taehyung’s voice was completely dry and rough-hearted. He cleared his throat, before trying again to say his first name. “Hm-hm. Hoseok.” he patted his head gently. “Hoseok. You mustn’t fall asleep here. You’ll catch a cold without a blanket.”

Hoseok started to stir. Taehyung waited patiently for him to emerge and wake up completely. He wanted to smile. Taehyung wanted to smile so bad; he was so happy to have Hoseok around. So happy to have him by his side. He realized it now. He already knew it, but he was realizing the magnitude of his love right now. Even if he felt like a little bit of a sucker; he loved him. He was sure of it. He squeezed Hoseok’s hand, the one he was already holding.

   “Hm.” Hoseok grunted imperceptibly, before sitting up completely. And when he saw that Taehyung was awake, he sat back on his chair and he opened his eyes wide, which made Taehyung smile even wider. “Oh,” he said, holding his other hand to his mouth.  

Taehyung saw that his eyes began to glow. Hoseok looked like he was about to cry. He squeezed his hand first, as if he needed to check if it was real, before reaching out his other hand to Taehyung, and hugging him, his head on the brown man’s chest. Hoseok was trembling. Taehyung could feel it. He put his arms around him. 

   “I’m so grateful... that you’re awake,” Hoseok whispered, between sobs. “I was so, so terrified you’ll never wake up.”

The younger man patted his head. He stroked his hair. His electrocardiograph went a little crazy. 

Beep. Beep. Beep. 

Hoseok laughed. Taehyung also laughed. He too was happy. And even though he was still hurting a little everywhere, the pain was evaporating; the more he looked at Hoseok, the less pain he felt, the more he felt that his heart was filled with love and happiness. Literally full. 

Hand in hand, Taehyung couldn’t help but look fondly at his boyfriend. His boyfriend. And probably his soulmate. Over several epochs, by the looks of it. 

The end.