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Jungwon wasn’t sure why he was born with the ability to see the future, but he didn’t mind it. It wasn’t all that bad.
It was an ability that only worked when he touched a person, no matter how briefly. A single second of contact sent flashes of his future with the person through his mind.
For strangers that he would never see again, the flash lasted a nanosecond. For people he touched more than once, like his parents, he no longer saw the colorful series of memories behind his eyelids. He already knew what would happen—had been seeing it since the day he was born.
But for new people—people that would hold some sort of significance in his life, if even for five minutes—he would see their future together the moment they brushed each other’s skin.
So it startled him when he first touched Sunoo.
It startled him, seeing his entire life flash before his eyes.
“Hi!”
They met in anatomy. It was an upper level class, with both seniors and juniors, but Jungwon was still a little surprised when a senior took the seat next to him.
“Um, hi,” he said hesitantly. “Yang Jungwon. Nice to meet you.”
The senior smiled, extending his hand. “Kim Sunoo!”
Jungwon paused for a moment, staring at it.
He tried to avoid touching people if he could. It was daunting, sometimes, being forced to see the end of a friendship with someone you’d just met. Witnessing livid fights or warm moments when you had yet to know each other’s full names.
But Sunoo was most likely going to be nothing more than a lab partner. At best, Jungwon could see them becoming friends.
So he smiled back, reaching out to grip his hand and shake it—
And blinked, the breath knocked out of him as their future flashed in front of him.
Vivid and colorful and bright.
They spend the semester laughing and knocking elbows by the cramped lab table, growing closer as their grade in the class teeters on the edge of failing—not that either one seems to care. Sunoo asks him out after their final exam. He waits outside of the classroom, holding his textbook and looking uncharacteristically nervous. Jungwon says yes so quickly it makes the senior blink in surprise, before falling into relieved laughter.
They date for four years. The memories spin by in a series of colors and smells as Jungwon watches. Peppermint hot cocoas cupped in their gloved hands during winters spent together. Dead leaves crunch beneath their boots while they walk through Sunoo’s favorite parks. Jungwon sees himself shirtless and muscled, lifting his boyfriend onto his shoulder and throwing him into a rippling ocean while Sunoo shrieks with laughter.
They graduate eagerly and with enthusiasm, renting out a little studio apartment. He watches himself wrestle Sunoo onto the couch the day they move in, watches them try to kiss through their uncontrollable laughter.
Their love is like lightning bolts darting through his mind. Sharp and sudden. Shockingly bright.
He can’t look away.
Four years flash by in an instant, gone too quick. And just like that, the colors dim without warning.
Jungwon is promoted at his job. He begins working late nights, witnesses himself coming home to Sunoo asleep on the couch after having waited for him all day. He sees a year of bitterness pass by in seconds, hanging over their heads like a storm cloud.
He quits his job six months after being promoted—and the cloud slowly lifts itself.
Another year passes and Jungwon is watching himself propose. Sunoo laughs through happy tears, jumps into his arms and kisses him hard. There are friends there Jungwon doesn’t recognize yet, friendships he has yet to make. Jumping out from behind trees to hug them in congratulations.
Their wedding goes by in a heartbeat—but their wedding night lingers just a moment longer. Jungwon sees Sunoo, Sunoo, Sunoo. His legs, his waist, his lips, his curls. Everywhere and somehow still not enough.
The years continue in quicker flashes than before. They move again, with less energy than when they were in their early twenties, but just as much enthusiasm. Their careers are stables, rings on their fingers. Life is calm. Content.
Warm.
And then it grows dark for a moment. Sunoo starts to long for children. He confides in Jungwon, who agrees that he’s been feeling a source of similar emptiness. They apply with an adoption agency and spend another year seesawing in and out of unhappiness. Jungwon watches himself spend a year’s worth of sleepless nights in a second, his twenty-seven year old self listening to Sunoo cry softly in the darkness of their bedroom.
Then, a ray of light. No—two.
It makes his breath catch as he sees two boys waddle into their house. Brothers, four and six. They have wide eyes and adorable smiles, and Jungwon gets to watch himself become a happier man than he’d ever thought he could be.
The next two decades are spent in love and light. Ease. They tease each other, raise the boys. They’re happy.
A dark moment flashes through his mind somewhere in the midst of it all. The kids are in middle school when Jungwon’s father passes away. He sees Sunoo stick close to him for a few months, until the grey cloud above him lifts itself slowly.
Another dark flash. The kids are in highschool when Sunoo is let go from his job. Like always, the bitterness returns, grey and miserable.
And like always, it eventually leaves.
When the kids leave for college, Jungwon sees Sunoo cry. They're happy tears, but he teases him for it regardless.
When they come back, only to leave again a few years later when they meet their partners, Jungwon is the one who cries. But Sunoo doesn’t tease him. He just hugs him, resting his cheek on his shoulder.
More than two decades later, they find themselves back to where they started—together, just the two of them.
The rest of it goes by quick. Love, laughter. Comfort. They’re content with each other. They move back into a smaller apartment, spending less time at work as they grow old.
Their kids have kids, and they take their duties as grandparents very seriously. Jungwon chides Sunoo for buying the most expensive things he can get his hands on for the grandkids during Christmas time, then proceeds to do the same thing himself.
Retirement is warm. Their love is gentle by then, sweetened and softened with time. Where it was once like a sharp wine when they were young, so bright and full of life, it feels more like tea in the later years. Warm and comfortable.
Greys hairs and walkers go by in a blur. They help each other out of bed in the mornings. Remind each other to take their medications. Still healthy, still happy. Aging together, hand in hand.
Jungwon doesn’t see who dies first, which means it must be him.
He's grateful. He doesn’t know if he could stand to see it be Sunoo.
“...won? Jungwon?”
He blinked, and gone was 86 year old Kim Sunoo. Sitting in front of him was Sunoo now, 19 years old. His grey hair had returned to brown, soft curls that fell into sparkling, warm eyes.
Jungwon let out a breath, wondering if he looked as pale as he felt.
“You okay?” Sunoo asked softly. His expression was concerned, eyebrows knitted. “You kinda spaced out there for a sec.”
“Yeah,” Jungwon said shakily. He let out a breath, still staring at him. He couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away.
His future was sitting right in front of him.
“I’m good,” he said softly. “I’m...great.”