Chapter Text
Hyunwoo rubs his eyes groggily and groans, yawning as he stretches his arms above his head. He doesn’t want to wake up, although he knows that he has to. He doesn’t even have to open his eyes to know that it is already morning, because he could feel the warmth of the sun blazing through the window.
Except that it’s not his window.
He realises this as soon as he opens his eyes, as soon as he sits up against the headboard and gasps in alarming alacrity – because this isn’t even his bed. This isn’t his room. “How much did I have to drink last night?” he mumbles to himself, before he peers at the other side of the king-sized bed.
Did I get so wasted that I wouldn’t even remember if I got laid?
Hyunwoo gently pulls down the duvet to take a look at the girl sleeping beside him, before he stops completely and backs away in utter shock.
It’s a guy.
What the fuck?
Alarm bells start ringing in Hyunwoo’s head, because a) he definitely did not go out for drinks last night, and b) he’s positively straight.
“Hm,” Hyunwoo nudges the sleeping figure on the shoulder, “I’m sorry,” he says, “—but I need to go home.”
The man rolls sleepily to lie on his back, and for the first time Hyunwoo sees his face. He opens his eyes in tiny slits to squint at Hyunwoo, his lips curled up in what Hyunwoo thinks looks like amusement.
Nope, Hyunwoo thinks. Doesn’t look familiar.
“But you are home,” the man mumbles drowsily, before letting out a low chuckle.
No, I’m not – you’re crazy and I don’t know you, Hyunwoo wants to say, but he bites the insides of his cheeks instead – and remains silent, remains unperturbed when the other man sits up before pushing Hyunwoo back down to his side of the bed – and all the words he has wanted to say disappears when the man takes Hyunwoo in his mouth; knows exactly how Hyunwoo likes to be touched.
And as Hyunwoo relaxes to the other man’s ministration, his eyes flutter shut in contentment and eventually, sheer ecstasy, and he thinks— this is a strange dream.
A strange, wonderful dream.
~
He wakes up an hour later to the smell of food, which was absolutely amazing in the first instance – but Hyunwoo becomes horrified when he realises that he is still in the same bedroom he has woken up in previously.
Not a dream, then, he thinks – panicking, as he lifts off the duvet and finds the crusted stains of his cum on the fabric, but the other man is nowhere to be seen. Hyunwoo jumps off the bed and tries to find the bathroom so he could at least wash his face and take a look in the mirror.
He tiptoes quietly towards what he thinks is the bathroom, looks straight at his face in the mirror and sees himself, exactly how he remembered seeing him yesterday. He splashes cold water on his face to feel something, because he is positively lost, and can't understand why he woke up on a bed beside a guy he has never seen in his life.
As he looks in the mirror, it’s all planned out in his head. He will try to remain calm, he will politely say his greetings to this male stranger who has somehow brought Hyunwoo back to his apartment last night, and then he will scamper off. This is not my home, Hyunwoo thinks as he steps out of the bedroom awkwardly, and finds himself in the living room, where his nightmare apparently becomes worse.
He discovers a framed photo of himself – and he thinks, I’ve got a stalker , before his eyes latch on another framed photo of himself, and another, and another – but the oddness is that he does not remember having them taken at all. And then there’s a larger framed photo of him and the stranger, and they look happy – as if they’re in love, hugging each other. Another photo has Hyunwoo kissing the other man on the cheek, and the background looks like they were somewhere in Europe. Hyunwoo swears to God he’s never been to Europe, much alone outside of Korea – this must be photoshopped, he thinks, before he stumbles upon another photo of him and his closest friends – Jooheon, Hoseok, Minhyuk, Hyungwon – and the stranger is in it, too. In fact, there is even a photo of the stranger with Hyunwoo’s parents, and he feels like screaming, ‘WHEN DID THIS ALL HAPPEN???’ but he can’t – as if his vocal chords have been twisted and his stomach has been pulled up to his throat.
“Hey, you’re awake!” Hyunwoo hears from behind, and he turns to find the stranger wearing a large sweater and a bright, lovely smile. “I’ve made us breakfast.”
“Who—who are you?” he stammers.
“Um,” the man begins, an amused expression etched on his face, “I’m…Kihyun?”
“Right,” Hyunwoo says, his nostrils flaring. He runs a hand agitatedly in his hair. “And how did I get here?”
Hyunwoo’s apparent distress must have been strikingly evident, because the man’s light-hearted expression has now changed to one of absolute concern. “Hyunwoo, are you alright?”
“Why are there photos of me and you?” Hyunwoo says, pointing at the framed photos on the table with a tremulous finger. “Together?”
The other man looks worried, looks at Hyunwoo as if he has gone mad. “Because we’re…Married?”
Married?
“Sorry—,” Hyunwoo shakes his head fervently, “But when did we get married?”
Hyunwoo could hear the other man’s sharp intake of breath; the incredulous tone in his voice as he asks, “Is this a game?”
“Let’s pretend that it is a quiz. You could award yourself points if you want,” Hyunwoo huffs in vexation. “When did we get married?”
“Two years ago,” the man says without missing a beat. Deadpan. Serious. “Jooheon was your best man, Minhyuk was mine.”
“But I’ve never met you before! And as far as I’m concerned I’m not gay. Never have swung that way!” Hyunwoo says exasperatedly, his voice going higher-pitched than he intended.
There is a flicker of hurt in the other man – no – Kihyun’s eyes, and Hyunwoo feels a slight pang of guilt.
“Check your phone,” Kihyun orders him. He seems angry, although he doesn’t raise his voice. Hyunwoo automatically searches for his jacket and checks its pockets. Apparently, he still has the same phone. A red Iphone 12 Pro, but the phone case is completely different.
He clicks the side button and sees the lock screen photo.
It’s a picture of Kihyun and him.
With trembling hands Hyunwoo punches in his password, which still lets him access his phone. He checks his account and he still has the same number, pretty much the same people in his contact list. But the photo gallery is completely alien to him – he doesn’t remember taking any of those pictures. And the text messages – he doesn’t remember typing them. The latest text conversation was one that he apparently had with Kihyun last night, and Hyunwoo had asked Kihyun to buy groceries from the food store on the way home.
“I’m not—,” Hyunwoo begins, dropping the phone to the parquetted floor with a loud crack. He stumbles back, falling on his bum just as Kihyun tries to reach for him – and manages to grab Hyunwoo’s wrist, only to be pulled on top of the older male.
“Ouch,” Kihyun groans, because Hyunwoo has accidentally kicked his tummy with his knee. He raises himself up, with Hyunwoo still lying beneath him, and for a second they stare into each other’s eyes. Hyunwoo doesn’t know what it is, but the rapid realisation must have sunk in Kihyun’s mind, because he backs away immediately – as if in fear, repulse, as if Hyunwoo is diseased and infectious.
“You’re not Hyunwoo,” Kihyun says, swallowing heavily. “You’re not him— My Hyunwoo. Where is he?” he whispers hoarsely, his eyes widening in horror. “What did you do to him?”
“What did I do to him?” Hyunwoo screams in frustration. “More like what he did to me! I’m Son Hyunwoo!”
Kihyun has latched himself against the wall, as far away from Hyunwoo as possible. He is about to open his mouth, to say something when the cracked phone vibrates noisily on the floor – Jooheon, it says – and Kihyun’s gaze flickers back and forth between Hyunwoo and the phone, as if daring him to answer.
Hyunwoo crawls towards the phone and picks it up, gulping anxiously before saying ‘Hello’ with a cracked voice.
“Hey, Hyunwoo. You’re late! I thought you were going to meet me at 10?”
Thankfully, Jooheon still sounds the same on the phone. Loud and boisterous – but any source of familiarity is soothing to Hyunwoo at present, given his situation. Hyunwoo quickly glances at the wall clock and realises that it’s already 20 past 10. “Oh, sorry. Something came up,” he says.
“Don’t tell me you’re still frolicking in bed with Kihyun, eh?” Jooheon nudges him mischievously.
Hyunwoo closes his eyes and winces.
Not you too.
Hyunwoo feels like crying, but he can’t. He wants to scream to Jooheon, “Help me!” but all hope seems lost for now. Distractedly, Hyunwoo replies, “No, he’s making breakfast,” and Kihyun stares at him as if he is a vile creature. “I’m sorry. Where are we meeting again? I’ll try to be there in 10.”
“Momo cafe, of course. Where else?” Jooheon quips. “You sound lost, Hyunwoo. Are you sure you’re alright?”
“Yea—yeah,” Hyunwoo nods, thanking that Momo still exists in this universe too. “I’ll be there. As soon as possible,” he reiterates, aware that Kihyun’s gaze is still burning his skin. It’s a miracle that Kihyun hasn’t stabbed him with a knife yet, given his omnipresent murderous stare. “See you in a bit,” he barks into the phone before hanging up.
“You’re not him,” Kihyun echoes soullessly, as soon as Hyunwoo puts his phone back in his pocket. “Please, stop pretending. What have you done to him?” Kihyun asks,wide eyes brimming with tears that haven’t quite streamed down his face, his jaw clenched in sheer antagonism. He’s trying to hold it in, Hyunwoo realises.
“I need to go see Jooheon,” Hyunwoo explains apologetically. “I need to—I know him. I’m sorry—Kihyun,” he says, “—that’s your name, isn’t it? I’m still Son Hyunwoo, but I’m not your husband. And I don’t know why everyone thinks we’re together—” he begins, before Kihyun angrily cuts him off.
“That’s because we are.” Kihyun says, and then bites his tongue. “I mean, I’m with my Son Hyunwoo, not you.”
“But from where I came from – I don’t even know you! And Jooheon is one of the people that I know that exists in the other… World,” Hyunwoo frowns, because he can’t believe he’s saying this. “So I really need to see him. Please,” he pleads earnestly.
Kihyun is tense – but his back visibly relaxes as he straightens himself up, before nodding in defeat. “I understand,” he says, brows knitted in apprehension.
“Thank you,” Hyunwoo says. “Thank you so much,” he says again, before running past Kihyun towards the door, glances at the shoe rack and recognizes the pair of sneakers that he has worn yesterday. He is about to dash out when he hears Kihyun’s voice from behind him. “ Your keys,” he says; a gentle reminder, but spoken with utter dejection in his eyes.
Hyunwoo pats himself again, absentmindedly. An automatic reflex.
“You always forget them,” Kihyun sniffles, his voice breaking. “They’re in the bowl next to the shoe rack.”
“Right. Thanks,” Hyunwoo bows politely, if not awkwardly.
The door clicks shut just as Kihyun clasps a hand over his mouth, finally letting the tears fall freely, when he thinks that Hyunwoo couldn’t see him.
“But you’re not him,” Kihyun whispers to himself, in the desolated hallway.
You’re not my Hyunwoo.
~
Hyunwoo steps out of the apartment building only to realise that he has no idea where he is. He twirls around, looking for any signs of familiarity.
He slaps his forehead and turns on the GPS, before realising that he’s passed by this street; this area before - in his world. But it’s not a place that he has frequented very often, or knows like the back of his hand. It seems that Kihyun and Hyunwoo – the other Hyunwoo – live in a nicer part of Seoul, where hip young couples live and the rent is sky-high. Never in a thousand years would Hyunwoo imagine living here.
It’s too posh.
When Hyunwoo exits the corner, he finally recovers his sense of direction – he’s back in the main street, surrounded by landmarks that he recognizes, and exhales in relief. His eyes rove around wildly. Everything still looks normal; there are no flying cars or kids wearing futuristic shiny clothes, the air doesn’t seem heavier or feel any different. The McDonald’s he knows is still over there, the shopping complex he usually goes is just across the street, the subway station is a few meters walk away.
Hyunwoo takes the street heading towards Hoseok’s mom cafe.
And he thinks that he’s only been there yesterday and had a large iced coffee with Hoseok before heading off to meet Hyungwon and Minhyuk at the cinema to catch a movie. But obviously that didn’t happen in this world. Judging from the text messages on his phone, Hyunwoo last spoke to Hoseok last Tuesday, and is only going to meet Hyungwon tomorrow.
He begins to panic, because although his friends and family remain the same in this parallel world, their experiences and memories are different. What if their personalities are different, too? Judging from his short phone call with Jooheon, it seems like his friend’s personality hasn’t changed one bit, though.
Hyunwoo is hopeful.
When he arrives, Jooheon is sitting at one corner of the restaurant. Hyunwoo glances around the interior of the place, thinking it looks almost similar to the one from his world, but not quite. The walls are painted a different shade of grey, the tables and chairs are of different material and shapes. Jooheon sounds alarmed when he notices Hyunwoo skulking towards them. “You look like a stranded highwayman or something, hyung. You look horrible. What happened?”
“Hi Jooheon,” Hyunwoo greets him gawky, before turning to face Hoseok’s mom and embracing her tightly. He never knew how much he would miss her until now. She was almost like an aunt from how close Hoseok and him were since childhood.
“You look awful, Hyunwoo. Is everything alright?” She asks, the concern present in her voice.
Everything’s fucked up , Hyunwoo wants to say, but he clenches his jaw in order to stop himself from spilling the truth. “Everything’s great!” he grins toothily. “I just had a rough night, that’s all,” he says, completely throwing them off the scent with a double entendre.
“Did you have an argument with your perfect husband?” Jooheon jokes, in jest. “If you look like this, I wonder how Kihyun looks like at home,” he says with a chuckle, nudging Hyunwoo’s shoulder. Jooheon seems less worried now.
Hyunwoo exhales – partly in relief, but also partly because he remembers how Kihyun has stared at him just seconds before he leaves the house. The memory pierces his mind like a thousand needles piercing his skin, and it hurts.
His “auntie” cooking hasn’t changed at all, Hyunwoo thinks— as he eats with fervour, as if he hasn’t eaten in a month. He lets Jooheon talk – and he’s comfortable this way, letting Jooheon lead the conversation. Hyunwoo has so much to ask Jooheon – like how Hyunwoo met Kihyun, or what Hyunwoo does for a living here – but decides that for once, nodding vaguely and appreciatively at everything might be the best course of action.
Hyunwoo is half-relieved-half-disappointed when Jooheon says that he has to go.
“Well, I warned you that we had to meet early because I was going to meet Chankyung’s parents for lunch. But you showed up late,” Jooheon reminds him.
Hyunwoo merely blinks, before saying: “Who’s Changkyun?”
Jooheon looks at him, puzzled, like he was insane.
“Changkyun? My boyfriend for the last 3 and a half years?” Jooheon says, frowning. “Hyung, are you sure you’re alright? You don’t feel like yourself today, man.”
Boyfriend?! Hyunwoo wants to scream. Since when Jooheon was gay?
“Don’t worry man, I’m ok,” Hyunwoo dismisses, waving a hand. “I guess I just need to sleep.”
“Damn right you should. Or go to a doctor to treat amnesia.” He jokes, waving a half-hearted goodbye at Hyunwoo. “I really need to go, I’ll text you later!”
Hyunwoo finishes his meal and bids goodbye to Hoseok’s mother, before heading back home. He drives silently, and he realises that even if he has friends here, they’re not his family and friends. Hyunwoo figures, then, that he’s absolutely lost in a city he thought he’d known so well.
A stranger among the known.
~
He manages to return home thanks to the saved address in his GPS only to find Kihyun sipping on a mug of coffee at the kitchen counter. “I’m sorry about my outburst earlier,” Kihyun says as Hyunwoo takes a seat opposite him.
“No,” Hyunwoo shakes his head. “I’m sorry—,” he says, before pausing mid-sentence.
Sorry for what? For existing? For Kihyun’s loss?
The apology is left hanging in the air, despite Kihyun’s waiting. Hyunwoo glances at the kitchen counter instead— noticing that the breakfast from this morning has been left untouched; and he wonders if Kihyun has had something to eat.
“Did Jooheon find out?” Kihyun asks when he realises that Hyunwoo isn’t going to finish his sentence, interrupting Hyunwoo’s reverie.
“No.”
Kihyun frowns. “Hmm.”
“If he does, he hasn’t said anything.”
“Well. Knowing Jooheon and his usual antics—,” Kihyun begins ponderingly.
“—He doesn’t know,” Hyunwoo finishes the sentence for Kihyun, agreeing with the sentiment Kihyun is trying to convey.
“Hmm,” Kihyun nods contemplatively, a wry smile decorating his lips.
“Even auntie doesn’t recognize me,” Hyunwoo says pensively.
Kihyun nearly chokes on his coffee. “Hoseok's mom? You also call her auntie?”
Hyunwoo nods broodingly. “How did you know, though? That I’m not—Him?” he asks.
“Oh—,” Kihyun tilts his head, gazing at Hyunwoo through his eyelashes. “I just… Know.” he says, but he doesn’t elaborate. Hyunwoo wants to know how Kihyun knows – but he’s afraid of the repercussions, should he ask. Kihyun has been through a lot today, although he doesn’t express it through words. Hyunwoo doesn’t want to push the wrong buttons when Kihyun already looks like he’s frayed at the ends, a tiny snap and he would break.
“So where do we go from here?” Hyunwoo asks, instead. “I could leave if you want,” he offers, because he believes that the last thing Kihyun wants is to have an impostor living under one roof.
“You can’t—,” Kihyun says quickly, his hand reaching for Hyunwoo’s, stopping just before touching Hyunwoo, balling his fists and pulling them down upon his lap. “You can’t leave. Not now, at least,” he says, his gaze downcast – in anguish, Hyunwoo interprets. “To the rest of them, you’re still my husband. We’ve got to maintain—appearances,” Kihyun says hesitatingly.
Kihyun has a point. Besides, where would Hyunwoo go? He could potentially stay at his parents’ or even at Jooheon’s, but what will they say? And what will he tell them?
‘Hi mom and dad, I’m your son but I’m not actually your son because I’ve been sucked into a parallel world and I have no idea where your real son is?
They’re going to think that I’m insane.
Hyunwoo checks the date on his phone and lets out an audible sigh. Kihyun studies him intently from across the table, giving him a judging glare. Hyunwoo feels as though he has to explain himself. “It’s still the same date,” he points out. “The same year. But this— world that you live in... It’s like a distorted reflection of the world where I’ve come from. It’s like – I’ve been sucked through some black hole and jumped between parallel worlds, or something,” Hyunwoo says, laughing, unable to believe he’s saying that. “It’s like the Doctor Strange movie, you know? When Doctor Strange meets alternative versions of himself because that girl can open portals to parallel worlds?”
“You mean America Chavez?” Kihyun guesses.
“You also have Marvel movies in this world?”
“Naturally. We watched this movie a few months ago. Your favourite scene was when Chavez punched her and Strange’s way—
“Across multiple universes.” Hyunwoo finishes for him. He’s astonished because that was the same scene he liked in the Dr Strange’s movie of his world. And ironically, it seems like something similar happened to him, although he can’t explain why.
“I believe you,” Hyunwoo hears Kihyun finally say, after moments of silence. His voice is deep and mournful. His expression remains impassive, but the way he blinks slowly at Hyunwoo – the taller man couldn’t help but suck in a sharp breath, because that gaze could kill. “I believe that somehow you slipped through a portal and ended up in this world. I don’t blame you for that.”
Hyunwoo feels like he is going to drown in Kihyun’s eyes.
“Well,” Hyunwoo gulps nervously, clearing his throat. “Thank you,” he furrows his brows. “You’re—Surprisingly calm,” he observes, between half-fear and half-admiration for the younger man sitting across him.
Kihyun rests his elbows on the table and clasps his hands together, before resting his chin upon his knuckles. “There’s no point being dramatic about this, is there? It has already happened,” he says pensively. “So there’s a leak between our universes somewhere. Somehow you’ve entered a parallel world through a gap in space and time. So maybe some cosmic power is fucking with our lives. I just—,” he huffs, “I just want to fix this. Help you get back home. And get my husband back,” he explains unwaveringly. “Wherever he is,” Kihyun adds, “I need to find him.”
He’s worried, Hyunwoo thinks. But he still appears stoical. Ever the pragmatist.
“If I’m here, then maybe he’s there. In my world. Maybe we switched around. If I’d woken up in your bed this morning, then probably he woke up in mine,” Hyunwoo hypothesises.
“If that’s true… What do we do?” Kihyun leans forward and scrutinises Hyunwoo attentively.
Hyunwoo rests his forehead on the table and groans in frustration. “I don’t know,” he says. “I’m not an astrophysicist.”
“Do I even exist in the world where you come from?” Kihyun asks, his eyes widening with genuine curiosity and interest.
Hyunwoo is taken aback. “I don’t know. I’ve never met you before.”
“That’s reassuring,” Kihyun says sardonically, returning to his default deadpan expression. “If it’s true that my Hyunwoo is in your world, then he will be looking for me—Oh, God,” he continues, screwing his eyes shut – as if in pain.
He’ll be alone, Hyunwoo realises. And he will be looking for Kihyun. And Kihyun will not be there.
Hyunwoo tries to push the ugly thought away; his gaze flickers towards the photographs on the fridge, instead. “You guys look so happy,” he blurts out. “And I’m sorry, I’m just— curious, but I need to ask. Back where I come from, I’m still trying to make ends meet. I work with my dad in his accounting company. But this—,” Hyunwoo looks around, “How could we possibly earn enough money to live here?”
Kihyun looks at him empathetically, before fiddling with the handle of his mug. “You’re a choreographer,” he says, enunciating each syllable to make them count. “You work for famous artists.”
Hyunwoo gasps loudly. He even might have shrieked a pitch higher than he intended, but he definitely couldn’t believe his ears. “What?! But I’m just—,” he begins, before Kihyun cuts him off.
“A struggling dancer?”
“How did you know that?”
“You did work with your dad, but you also took part in underground dance battles. That’s where you met this famous scouter, who initially wanted to sign you up under a record label,” Kihyun explains. “But you decided that becoming an artist didn’t really suit you; that you prefer to work behind the scenes. So you became a choreographer.”
“I’m—,” Hyunwoo begins to say, but he is tongue-tied in shock.
A choreographer .
“That has never happened in my world. I mean, I can dance, I create my own choreographies, but I’ve never—Gained anything from it,” Hyunwoo says, before his thoughts trail off again. “Wow. Wow. When did that happen?”
Kihyun covers his mouth to hide an honest, hearty chuckle—the corners of his eyes pulled up in tiny crinkles. It’s the first time that Hyunwoo has seen him brighten up, after their initial confrontation and moments of edginess. “Three years ago,” Kihyun replies with a shy smile. “Before we got married. Well—,” he blushes. “You proposed to me right after you signed up with Starship Entertainment and became a permanent employee there,” he says, caressing his own hand.
Hyunwoo’s gaze immediately falls on Kihyun’s left hand, where he is wearing a silver band around his ring finger. Kihyun’s gaze has dropped to Hyunwoo’s left hand, too.
There is no ring.
Kihyun’s smile immediately fades.
~
Minutes later, Kihyun shows Hyunwoo his studio, where he practices and works, where there's fancy music equipment and cameras placed. Hyunwoo is in awe. This is his dream, of having a soundproof studio like this; mirrors all around, where he could just immerse himself day in, day out to create choreographies. However, it isn’t just the luxury that transfixes him.
There's a computer and a camera there — which he deduces were placed to record himself dancing. He starts browsing the files and he almost breaks into tears when he realises that there is a video of this version of himself, dancing to the exact choreography he had created on his own world months ago.
“I’ve done this too,” Hyunwoo points out, when Kihyun asks him what’s wrong. “Back in my world.”
Kihyun stands behind him and places a comforting hand on his shoulder. He goes to the computer and starts to scroll down a list of videos that Hyunwoo assumes to be the songs he’d choreographed, and clicks on one of them.
The song starts playing – and it's a boy group song that Hyunwoo has never heard before. He steals furtive glances at Kihyun and the man is smiling, nudging head along to the music. “Watch it,” Kihyun says, a contented smile touching his lips.
Hyunwoo doesn’t remember dancing to it, but he thinks he could. Kihyun shows him some videos, of Hyunwoo himself dancing and to some boys group dancing along with him, five young boys dancing fervently to what Hyunwoo was teaching.
“They’re named A2Z and they have won three daesangs since you started choreographing for them,” Kihyun points out, smiling.
He keeps watching some clips, and he concludes some things haven’t changed, but as he flips through the dances, he's sure that this Hyunwoo – Kihyun’s Hyunwoo – dances so much better than he does.
I'm a loser , Hyunwoo thinks, as he looks up from the notebook and catches Kihyun’s gaze. Those pretty, dark eyes.
Hyunwoo feels suffocated; he has to breathe and clear his throat. “Kihyun,” he pauses, to muster courage, “How did I meet you?”
Kihyun crosses his arms, leans against the wall as he stands. “I’m a friend of Hoseok’s. We met at the ER, because I had to pick you and the guys up,” he explains. “You were involved in a brawl at a nightclub, and you had small shards of glass cut into your forehead,” Kihyun points, “And to your temple, the sides of your neck. Had to get stitches. That’s how I knew that you’re not him. Because you don’t have the scars.”
“You picked us up? What happened?”
Kihyun snorts. “Well, some guy was forcing himself on Minhyuk and when you went to help him, he thought you were trying to steal Minhyuk from him. And then he punched you hard. You guys were on foot because you were drinking and there was no uber nearby, so Hoseok panicked and called me. Lucky for you, I happened to be awake at 3 a.m. to answer his call and take you to the hospital.”
“Did we hit it off straight away?”
“God, no,” Kihyun shakes his head and wrinkles his nose. “You were drunk and I instantly had a really bad impression of you. You stained my seat with blood and threw up in my car.”
“God,” Hyunwoo sputters in incredulity. “Sorry. I don’t sound like a nice person back then.”
“No need to apologise. It wasn’t you who threw up in my car, was it?” Kihyun shrugs. “If this makes you feel better,” Kihyun smiles, “You seem like a nicer guy than what he was when I first met him.”
“Thanks,” Hyunwoo sniffles sheepishly. “How did we become close?”
“I made you clean my car. And then I don’t know why but I let you play your playlist and you started singing. I started singing too, and we sort of had a jamming session together,” Kihyun says, his gaze directed intently towards the swirly patterns on the carpet, reminiscing of times long gone – only to be interrupted by Hyunwoo’s sudden and eager curiosity.
“Wait,” Hyunwoo says, reaching up for Kihyun’s wrist. “You can sing?”
“Oh, dear,” Kihyun starts to laugh, “This feels like starting all over again.”
“Why?”
“That’s what you said to me. What he said to me, I mean. He was surprised that I could hold a note, too. Oh, the déjà vu,” Kihyun says, as another blush starts to creep up, turning his cheeks beetroot red. “That’s how we clicked. Because you’d dance and I’d sing and we would spend an hour or two in that,” he explains. Hyunwoo can’t help but notice how Kihyun uses ‘he’ and ‘you’ interchangeably. “And I remember saying to you that I did not expect you to be trained in classical dance, but you were taking jazz classes at the time. You don’t even look like you listen to jazz music, but you do,” Kihyun reminisces. “Wait. Do you?”
Hyunwoo purses his lips, trying hard not to break into giggles, because he does. Despite his favouritism to hip hop and R&B, he still dances to jazz a lot. Some things just don’t change, even in parallel worlds. Hyunwoo nods at Kihyun, covering his face to hide his embarrassed laughter. “Talk about first impressions, eh?” he quips.
Kihyun laughs too.
When the both of them have caught their breaths, Hyunwoo asks Kihyun, “This might sound a little bit insensitive, but is it possible to be jealous of myself?”
Kihyun sends him a sharp, sideways glance. “Why would you be jealous of yourself?”
“He seems so much happier. His life… It all seems better than mine. Everything seems to be sorted out. He has someone who loves him. He has you.”
“You don’t?” Kihyun queries.
Hyunwoo straightens his back; quirks an eyebrow. “Don’t what?”
“Have a girlfriend?”
Hyunwoo grits his teeth, thinking about the number of one-night stands and broken relationships he has had in the past. “No,” he says.
“And now you’re stuck with me,” Kihyun comments with a hint of self-deprecation – before he smiles at Hyunwoo, and looks away sheepishly. Hyunwoo notices the slight purse of Kihyun’s heart-shaped lips, and the way Kihyun blinks slowly, before the younger man casts another glance at Hyunwoo again.
Kihyun becomes visibly embarrassed when he realises that Hyunwoo is still watching him.
“I’m starting to think that it’s not a bad thing after all,” Hyunwoo says with a mischievous smirk. Trying to lighten the mood up – but inevitably fails.
Kihyun looks away again, this time with a sad smile etched at the corners of his lips, and a slight shake of his head. Hyunwoo studies Kihyun in silence – and he finds it difficult to decipher this man, who is supposed to be his spouse. He knows, though, that Kihyun has a kind heart – otherwise Kihyun would have kicked him out of the apartment.
I’m sorry, Kihyun, Hyunwoo muses forlornly.
I wish I could be him for you.