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Minho is tossing and turning in his bed, the crumpled sheets around him tangling with his limbs in a messy dance. Sweat trickles down his forehead and palms, his body begging him to wake up.
Suddenly his eyes shoot open, nothing but darkness occupying his field of vision. He blinks a couple of times, as he starts to regain consciousness.
With shaky hands, he reaches one of the night lamps scattered on his bedside table, only to find a flat wooden surface, no sign of light.
He stills, retreating his hand back under the covers and trying to calm down. He breathes deeply, trying to focus on the soothing jingling of the bejeweled gyroscopes that endlessly rotate around the room. Still nothing.
Minho has no time to panic and wonder where he is, because a door bursts open, and suddenly the room is dimly lit. Enough to clearly show his best friend Changbin pacing nervously around the room, phone tightly clutched in his hand.
He wants to reach out to him and ask him what’s wrong, but his brain has finally caught up. This is one of his visions.
He sits up on the bed, legs crossed under the soft fabric of the sheets, and watches intently.
Changbin keeps walking, from the door to the bed and back to the door. His face is red and he’s furiously refreshing something on his phone, his finger sliding down every two seconds.
Finally, Changbin sits on the bed with a sigh. He runs a hand through his dark locks, and refreshes again.
A muffled scream echoes in the tiny room, his friend slightly jumping on the bed, oblivious to Minho’s presence under his covers.
Comforted by the fact that he’s not actually there with Changbin, he peers over the man’s shoulder, trying to get a glimpse of his screen.
He has to suppress a laugh at what he sees.
Of course, it’s Seungmin. Specifically, Seungmin’s instagram stories.
With tentative fingers, Changbin clicks on the circular icon at the top of the screen. Immediately Seungmin's smiling face greets them, holding a gigantic ice cream and looking very content.
Next to him, though, is the cause of Changbin’s distress. An unknown man, a hand strategically placed around Seungmin’s shoulder, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
Minho can’t say he isn’t surprised. If his suspicions are correct, which they usually are, Seungmin is irrevocably smitten with Changbin. So it doesn’t really make sense that he’s on a date with another person.
He doesn’t have a lot of time to ponder on this though because he hears sniffling come from beside him, his best friend sobbing into his hands desperately. He’s mumbling a few incoherent words, and Minho’s heart breaks for Changbin.
“I was…late…I’m just…a coward” are the words he can make out from his slurred speech, and he pats Changbin’s shoulder, well aware that the other can’t perceive him.
Suddenly, from the spacious window on the other side of the room, Minho sees a black figure appear in the frame and disappear just as fast, as if sprinting in front of it.
He’s not sure what to think of it, since all of his visions show a small portion of the future and nothing else. They don’t last long, just a couple of minutes at best.
But this is different, the vision is not stopping. And Minho finds himself able to get down from the bed and head outside, running after the mysterious figure.
He thinks he can spot the silhouette of a person, covered in a black cape, with no other clear details to it.
Heart beating loudly in his chest, he prepares to sprint.
He can’t even make the first step before he wakes up.
It has been a couple of days since the vision. Minho has been pacing nervously in his apartment every chance he gets, the ticking sounds of his 10 clocks calm him down and the cuckoo clock over the fireplace jolts him from his trance every hour.
It’s currently 8pm and he’s sitting on the kitchen counter, balancing a big, purring, orange cat on his lap and a steaming ramen bowl in his hands. All while his laptop is open on the surface, ten tabs open, simulating the chaos in his mind.
The title on the tab in front of him flashes a bright green, indicating once again that he landed on a fake site about divination.
Realistically, he knows he won’t find any information on the internet, a place far too vast for his own liking, and certainly full of pretend-clairvoyants.
Another thing he knows is that in his spare room, full of overflowing bookcases that reach the ceiling, he could find something . Maybe.
But the prospect of inspecting the books he collects there is filled with visions of him buried under the thousands of works the room houses.
With a sigh, he opens another tab, hoping to find something that will tell him what that dark shadow was.
At some point, he had given up.
He had decided to wait it out, see if the mysterious figure would show up again.
What he needed to do, he told himself, was focus on the task at hand.
That’s why he was currently sitting in a cafe, the freezing breeze from outside long forgotten as he wrapped his gloved hands around the hot chocolate he just received. He looked out from the window of the shop, the people outside hurriedly walking through the streets, trying to escape the cold weather.
He knew it was going to rain the day after, so his encounter with Changbin couldn’t be pushed forward.
Just as he thought of his best friend, he heard the door chime and a gigantic puffer jacket enter through the door.
He snorted. Changbin’s face slowly emerged from the jacket’s hood and a venomous gaze greeted him.
“I risked turning into a popsicle out there! Couldn’t we meet tomorrow? It’s freezing outside!” The other man grumbled, an offended look on his face.
“It’s snowing tomorrow, a snow storm actually.” Minho replied, a feline smile gracing his features.
“What? But the forecast… Nevermind.” Changbin sat down, nodding to himself as if he hadn’t known Minho’s talent for years.
Minho chuckled.
“Is this why you wanted to meet me today? Will something bad happen tomorrow? Please tell me I won’t break my ankle slipping on ice like last year…” He sighed, his shoulders slouching as he remembered the embarrassing accident.
With a laugh, Minho replied.
“Oh no, don’t worry. I didn’t see any incidents in your future, at least not physically.”
Changbin perked up at that, curiosity clear in his eyes. “Please tell me what it is Minho, my stomach is starting to hurt.” He said rubbing it carefully.
“Okay, okay, I’ll tell you.” He smiled at his friend’s antics. “You need to tell Seungmin how you feel, asap.”
Changbin gasped, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly without any sound coming out.
“How- How do you even- Why?!” He whisper-yelled, as if he was afraid Seungmin might hear from his apartment on the other side of the city.
“I didn’t even need the confirmation from the visions to guess that you’re in love with him, Bin. Even Soonie knows.” He added, to make his point even clearer, the image of his cat looking boringly at his two friends.
“Well... Even if it was true, why would I need to confess?” He sputtered, his ears reddening.
“Now, if I told you that wouldn’t be fun. Let’s just say I saw something in my vision and you have about…” Minho checks his phone, the calendar app open. “A month, yeah.”
Before he can see Changbin’s reaction, he hears a commotion behind him. Turning around he spots the barista with a shocked expression, the remains of the coffee he just spilled littering his apron and slowly dripping down as he stands frozen in place.
Minho’s head starts to spin, a splitting headache suddenly attacking him. He closes his eyes to regain focus and feels Changbin’s hand on his bicep.
He doesn’t hear his words though, his ears muffling any sound as he blacks out.
-
Minho is in a forest. On a clearing inside a forest, to be precise.
The grass feels soft on his palms, the emerald green color almost too pretty to be real.
He can distinguish the single drops of dew on the strands of grass and he spots lazy bees making their way through the glimmering flowers.
He looks around, confused.
He’s not sure he knows where he is. A foreign country maybe?
It sure looks like a fantasy scenery.
He hears an explosion.
His head shoots up, the noise startling the peace of the place.
The sound comes from a small cottage on his left, partially hidden by the forest trees. The small house reminds him of a hobbit’s house: the carved wood door, musky roof and its mushroom shape.
Suddenly, the door bursts open, almost falling from its hinges. A person comes out of it, a dark green cloak draped over his shoulders, and a hood covering the figure’s head.
“How could you drop that?! Aren’t you a witch, Yoo?”
Only now Minho notices part of the figure’s clothes are covered in a pink, glittery goo, dripping slowly on the grass.
He sees another figure hurriedly coming out of the hut, a big towel in their hands as they try to clean up the goo.
He squints, trying to glimpse more details of the already confusing situation.
But for the life of him, he can’t see clearly.
He gets up, wanting to inspect the situation without anyone seeing him.
He can’t even make the first step before he wakes up.
Days pass without much happening. Changbin timidly asks Seungmin out on a “friend” date, which they both know is an actual date. And Minho is happy for his friends.
Still, he feels an uneasy feeling creeping up on him, the sensation crawling up on him like a giant spider’s legs. He knows something is happening behind the scenes of his reality.
He carries on with his life like nothing is happening though, he doesn’t want to worry his friends after all.
The only thing that differs is his research.
The images of the clearing and the small cottage inhabiting it haven’t left his mind. The picturesque landscape is burned in his mind, like it was etched with fire.
Minho researches alternate planes of reality, fantastical words lost in the pages of time, old legends akin to the fantasy story that he so fervently enjoys.
He’s a clairvoyant, not a witch, so he has no idea if those legends are real or not.
Sure, he could force himself to consider those visions just dreams, caused by lack of undisturbed sleep and high amounts of stress. But he’s not new to his powers, he knows how to distinguish a vision from a simple effect of dozing off in public.
Desperate, he has resigned to Marvel movies. Yeah, sue him for being tired after days of non stop research and no results.
He’s relaxing on the sofa, soft cushions propped up behind his head and on his sides, a fluffy blanket covering his lower body. He caresses it, unsure how much of the fur is from the actual cover and how much of it comes from his familiars and the thought gets a laugh out of him.
Just as he’s giggling by himself, one of said familiars jumps on his stomach, knocking the air out of his lungs for a split second.
He has no time to recover as he feels a vision approach.
-
This time he isn’t in a clearing, he’s deep inside a forest. The dark trees loom over him, covering any trace of sun rays. The soil is humid under his feet and a light rain, barely passing through the branches, falls gently on his head.
He’s unsure of where he is, mostly because it’s dark but also because, you know, there are no forests in Seoul.
Suddenly, he hears the sounds of twigs snapping and a dark figure appears in front of him.
The figure doesn’t see him as it’s stumbling backwards, a hand clutched to his stomach.
He trips on the slippery foliage underneath his feet, his knees buckling and his breath itching.
The hood slips off, revealing the face of the person who has been populating Minho’s visions.
A boy, so small and fragile, he reminds Minho of a child.
But he’s not. His chubby cheeks contribute to the childlike appearance, but his built body, even if partially hidden by the leather armor, is unmistakably the one of a man.
His round eyes are wide in fear as Minho’s own eyes travel down his body, where an arrow is lodged in his stomach.
Minho steps forward, desperate to help the stranger who has now collapsed on the ground, his chest moving hastily up and down.
The wind, suddenly strong and bitter, lashes in his face and hair. The leaves are turning fervently around, covering his vision. The rain starts getting increasingly tempestuous, the gentle pitter patter from before long forgotten as Minho’s clothes and hair get soaked, long strands of it covering up his eyes.
He kneels before the other person, running a hand through his locks to get them away from where they’re tenaciously sticking to his face.
The stranger looks up at him, his eyes widening even more.
Not with fear though, the other man is incredulous. Lips parting trying to form words.
Minho frantically looks at the wound, unsure of what to do, but the stranger grabs his wrist, trying to get his attention.
“The watcher…” He chokes out, before closing his eyes.
And Minho wakes up.
-
He wakes up in the exact same spot, sweat trickling down his forehead and neck and shivering feverishly.
He takes a deep breath and gets up, his head pounding loudly and grabs a glass of water from the kitchen. He nervously runs a hand through his hair as Dori watches him from the floor, a quizzical look on his face.
“I’m just as confused, baby. What even was that?” He asks, tiredness coating his words. Minho resists the urge to open his laptop again to launch himself in a frenzy of research that would last all night, instead he grabs a cup of tea and heads to bed, the sound of the stranger’s voice resounding in his ears.
The tea is cold on his nightstand, the mug stacked inside another bright blue one left unattended. The space on the furniture is getting smaller by the day, his tendency to leave objects disregarded around whenever he finds something else to do contributing to the mess that lives in the house.
Minho doesn’t mind though, it doesn’t distract him. He also distinctly remembers where everything is, miraculously.
The ding of his third alarm clock finally wakes him up and he immediately remembers the vision from the night before, like it just slapped him on the face. He saw a person possibly die right in front of his eyes, the same person who has populated all of his visions lately.
Since the strange man appeared in the first vision, he hasn’t had any other types of visions, his usual ones. The location of someone’s lost dog, the correct weather forecast, the umpteenth Changbin fall or the next Ikea catalog.
He finally decides to get up, feeling more tired than when he laid his head on the pillow the night before, the soft material barely enough to lull him to sleep.
He feeds his familiars who are meowing loudly in search of food and attention, and watches them eat with a fond smile.
He then slowly gets ready for the day, pausing just to look at himself in the mirror for a brief moment. Hair ruffled and spiking in all directions, paired with an impressive pair of bags under his eyes.
He straightens his hair as best as he can, before heading out in the sheer cold.
The snow storm he predicted came and passed, a flurry of white and gray that he observed from the window, huddled in a fuzzy blanket. His head was buried in another one of his books, full of information but empty of any answers he needed.
That’s the main reason why he’s going out now.
Minho has always been an indoor type of person, preferring the comfort of his own special apartment, the tingles of his bead curtains helping him keep the myriad of thoughts in his brain in order.
He’s sure he wouldn’t be caught dead going out in this weather if it wasn’t for this research.
Shivering in his thick coat, Minho heads for the outskirts of the city, spotting the familiar facade of the small library that resides at the edge of Seoul. The structure was built resembling the grand architecture of 1800s Europe, brick exterior and large windows caged in a small frame.
He enters, the ding of a bell signaling his entrance as the woman behind the counter raises her head to smile at him.
“Hello, Minho-ssi, welcome in” She bows, the strings in her shirt fluttering lightly at the movement.
He raises a hand to greet her and bows back, a smile mirroring hers on his face.
“It’s always a pleasure to see you, Gahyeon, I was hoping you could help me today…” He trails off, unsure what to ask for.
She nods, gesturing him to continue.
“Do you happen to have any books on folklore? Even story books are fine…”
“Well, there’s plenty of those here! Could you be more specific, maybe?”
Minho takes some time to think it through. Are there some distinctive traits that he can remember from the visions?
Forests, cottages, potions… these all seem generic to any old legend or fantasy story. Until…
His eyes widen suddenly, startling Gahyeon in front of him who looks at his face quizzically.
“Are you okay?” She asks, slightly concerned.
“Do you have any books talking about a watcher ?” He replies instead, ignoring her question and making air quotes at the last word.
She stills for a minute, deep in thought. Her hands raise to play with her dark hair, a gesture of profound concentration.
“Follow me.” She then replies, decisive.
Gahyeon leads him through the narrow corridors, passing through the politics and romance sections.
They reach deep into the history branch, old books with shriveled, yellowed pages. The corners long gone, bitten away by time.
She carefully extracts a small tome, red cover lined with gold. The title is unreadable, Minho notes.
The pages pass before his eyes as the librarian delicately turns them, searching for a specific chapter.
Finally, she stops, her long fingers pointing at the title of the chapter.
“The Watcher”.
-
Minho is sprawled on his bed, an arm draped over his eyes as he reflects the happenings of before.
He left the library feeling confused and dazed, the walk back to the city and its glass buildings a stark contrast with the ancient world encased in the library.
The chapter of the book was brief, barely a few pages and equally little information. What Minho got from the short paragraph was that once existed a figure, so powerful they became a legend. They were venerated and regarded with the highest honors, people sought aid from them all the time.
This figure could supposedly see the future, their ability described as numerous visions coming to them as they spoke to the people who seeked help.
It’s impossible not to think about the parallels, Minho reflects. It’s all too much of a coincidence to be an actual coincidence. But he doesn’t think he’s a reincarnated God or whatever. That’s impossible.
That absolutely does not explain why the stranger looked at him and recognized the image of an alleged all knowing being.
The headache slowly comes back, pushing at the back of his skull like it’s begging to come out. If he closes his eyes he can almost see it…a bright light, a spark…a figure.
Around him is nothing but gold. Bright, blinding streaks of gold flashing around his field of vision. He feels flimsy, suspended in air, his body isn’t touching any surface. He’s simply floating aimlessly, specks of the metallic color insinuating in every little crevice of the tunnel.
Jisung rubs his eyes, the light pulsating behind his closed lids and hurting his head.
His body starts to accelerate as the source of light disappears and the area around him darkens.
He’s speeding now, the tunnel around him getting thinner the more he reaches forward. Yet, there’s nothing ahead of him. No exit.
Around him, he starts to see glimpses of visions. Like someone is reenacting a story in a theater. Except it’s not a play, a mere copy of real life. It’s actually him, the watcher.
His lover.
Minho.
Minho jolts awake, heart pounding in his chest. He remembers the dream vividly, every detail etched in his mind even though he did not understand what was happening.
He understands he wasn’t in his body, the feelings and thoughts in his head felt foreign, alien.
There is something though, something he can’t remember, he feels it scratch at the back of his head, begging to be let out. He closes his eyes, the curtains in the room are still lowered so the sunlight can’t disturb his sleep.
He focuses on the pendulum ticking in the room, the rhythmic sound aiding his concentration. His bedroom is never silent, there’s always a strange object clicking, bubbling or frizzling, their bright colors creating the perfect space for his thoughts to travel.
Minho sits up, legs crossed on the bed and eyes still closed.
Deep breaths. Breathe in. Breathe out.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
A pair of eyes flashes in his head, round and sad.
Minho jumps, widening his eyes. Someone knocks at the door.
-
He’s standing in front of the door, afraid to open it. He doesn’t know why but he’s sure that the person he just saw is standing at the other side, waiting to be let in. To speak to him.
He doesn’t know what to say to them, their eyes stunned him, locked him into place, his brain unable to process any information.
He knows the person, the boy has been populating all of his visions, his dreams, his thoughts. Opposite of him, separated only by a wooden door, is the answer to all of his questions.
He hesitates for a second, feeling all kinds of emotions swirling through his head.
And then he opens the door.
In front of him stands a boy, small and frail. His face is covered in bruises, already healed but leaving painful reminders of what happened.
His clothes are worn out, covered in splashes of mud and blood. Definitely blood.
Minho almost reaches forward to grab him, his instincts telling him to take the boy inside and wrap him up in a blanket to protect him from the whole world.
But he’s still a stranger after all.
He focuses on the other’s reactions. His face paled at the sight of Minho and his eyes, already watery and red, are now fully tearing up, long streaks of tears slowly descending towards his jaw.
He wipes them with the sleeve of his jacket, the coarse material scratching the bruises in what looks like a painful way.
They lock eyes then. And Minho remembers everything.
The scenery is beautiful, the sky is illuminated by bright orange hues, contrasting deeply with the approaching blue of the night.
The forest is quiet, only the gentle sounds of the night birds faraway disturb the peace created in their little bubble.
Inside a small, wooden cottage in the middle of the trees, Minho sits in a padded chair, eyes closed and hands resting on his knees. He’s waiting for a vision that he knows will soon come.
After a full day of aiding people from all over the nation, he feels like an empty shell, yet it’s what he was created to do, so he never complains. The visions he has of their lives are sometimes so terrible that he’s scared to communicate the results.
But he has to, they rely on him.
He feels a person wrap a blanket over his shoulders, in an attempt to not disturb his peace.
He smiles, eyes still closed.
“Come here, you.” He whispers, opening his eyes to stare at Jisung.
The other whines. “I didn’t mean to bother you love, I’m so sorry.” His shoulders slouch as he plops down to sit on Minho’s lap.
“The night is approaching fast so I thought you might feel cold without a cover…”
“You’re always so kind to me, darling. I love you.” Minho plants a kiss on Jisung’s cheek, giggles erupting from his lover at the gesture.
“I feel a vision coming, I’ll be absent for a while…” He winks at Jisung, squeezing his hand.
Jisung plants a loud kiss to his mouth, a soft smile making its way on his pouty lips.
“See you later then, watcher.”
That night, Minho predicts his own death.
Minho stumbles backwards, catching himself just in time on the dresser at the entrance. A few knick-knacks fall to the floor, loud clangs that he barely hears.
Jisung sees it in his eyes. Knows that Minho remembered him. He surges forward, catching Minho and burying his face in the other’s neck.
They start sobbing, warm tears mixing together on Minho’s skin. He feels happy, sad, terrified. He doesn’t want to remember his own death, the one who took him away from the world so soon, before he could fulfill his duty until the very end. Before he could spend the rest of his life with Jisung, the one person who has truly loved him, for him.
He’s ecstatic to see Jisung there, real, in his arms. Just like he used to be after a long day, cuddled to safety in their shared bed.
He doesn’t want to think about the implications of him being there. Because he’s sure that’s his Jisung, not a future reincarnation of his past lover.
His past life is standing in front of him, beautiful, bruised and battered. But he’s the same as always.
-
They’re sitting on Minho’s sofa, a cup of tea in each of their hands as the other two are held tightly together, both of them afraid to be separated again.
They cried for hours, just holding each other tight and pressing soft kisses on each other’s ears, nose, mouth.
It’s 2am when Jisung finally tells Minho everything.
The night Minho dreamed of his own death, he also learned there was not much he could do. He wasn’t destined to live long, a mere vessel of a God that wanted to communicate with his creation and nothing more.
Angered and terrified, he hid it from Jisung. But they knew each other better than anyone could imagine, their brains, hearts and souls linked by an invisible thread that connected them together.
So Jisung knew that something was wrong, but he certainly couldn’t imagine his lover would be taken away so soon.
It happened not even a month later, an incident with a wild animal in the forest. Unfathomable for someone like Minho, who had always lived in harmony with every animal he ever encountered.
But still, destiny had other plans.
Jisung didn’t let the sadness consume him, his grieving fueled only by anger. He knew Minho’s life had so much potential, his gift was enough proof of it.
He was also sure that their lives were destined to be connected, if Jisung was still alive, it meant Minho was alive too, somewhere.
So he traveled. Through planes, deserts so barren and arid he barely survived, stretches of frozen land, without any food in sight for days on end.
He spoke with the most powerful beings, humans blessed with similar powers to Minho that were venerated and respected by everyone.
All of them guided him to one place, aiding him in his quest to find the passage through times.
All of them told him the same thing, he had to learn how to create the portal that would take him to Minho, his will had to be strong enough to reach him and he would only if their connection was as true as he preached.
Jisung also revealed that he saw Minho often, unsure if they were dreams or hallucinations from the fatigue he felt deep in his bones.
“Only when I was shot by an arrow and saw you fall on your knees before me, I realized your powers were so strong you had reached me there. In the past.”
Minho cries quietly while Jisung speaks, his heart swelled with pride and sadness.
Jisung settles his cup down and takes Minho’s hands, running his calloused fingers on his palms.
“When I found that portal in front of me, I couldn’t believe it was me who created that. You were always the special one, not me. But you changed me, for the best.
My love for you has never been stronger, Minho. The watcher. Or whatever name you use now.
I am yours, forever.”
Minho lunges forward, crashing their lips in a passionate kiss that lasts for what seems like an eternity.
When they part, Jisung is smiling at him, the sadness in his eyes completely vanished.
“Oh, you’ll have to tell me who this Changbin is. He falls quite a lot to be such a sturdy warrior.”
Fin.