Chapter Text
In all fairness, Jisung doesn’t mean to fall in. But then, he never really means to do anything when shit hits the fan.
Like how he didn’t mean to set the wrong alarm and stand Minho up on their first date five years ago. Or, the time when he didn’t mean to eat the last muffin his old roommate and best friend, Felix, had been saving to peacefully end a long shift at work.
Or, just now, how he doesn’t mean to miss his and Minho’s reservation with the wedding planner.
Seriously, it isn’t his fault. He’d been off work from the cafe for the past two weeks, thanks to a wonderful out-of-town vacation with his fiancé—God, he’ll never get tired of using that word—and with the holidays right around the corner, things unsurprisingly picked up at the shop.
When he got the desperate call from a coworker at eight in the morning, practically begging him to come in and help, he had no qualms saying yes. Going back a day early wouldn’t hurt anyone, and it’s not like he’d made any other plans.
While today was originally supposed to be for sleeping in late with his husband-to-be—!!!—and having lazy makeout sessions and cuddling on the couch, Jisung has the rest of his life to look forward to those kinds of moments, so he crawled out of bed, got dressed, kissed Minho’s forehead, and slipped out the door with a small smile.
The walk to work isn’t too bad, only about forty minutes tops, and it scales along the Han River, which is an added bonus. Jisung often finds himself thinking of anything and everything during these walks. His and Minho's first meeting, his and Minho's first kiss, Minho asking if he wanted to be his boyfriend, Minho wanting to move in together, Minho proposing…
Jisung often found himself thinking of Minho during these walks. But what can he say? He is five hundred percent head-over-heels for that man. Maybe it should be embarrassing to admit that Jisung’s life pretty much revolves around Minho, but he’s never felt shy about the love he’s harbored for him over the years.
About halfway through his walk-run to work, Jisung’s phone buzzed in his back pocket. His brows furrowed as he fished it out, uncertain who would call him so early in the morning. Part of him had hoped it was his job saying he was no longer needed, but when he looked at the ID, a small gasp fell from his lips.
Lee Minho isn’t against committing murder when he’s not allowed to sleep in on the weekends, so Jisung was fairly shocked to see “My Sweet Little Honey Bunny Kitty Witty” light up on the screen.
“Good morning, sunshine!” Jisung sang as soon as he picked up. His tone was cheery, but he made sure it wasn't too loud. Minho gets headaches quite easily. “I didn’t wake you this morning, did I?”
What Jisung expected was a cute little grumble, an annoyed snort followed by a sleepy, raspy voice, but instead, he got a very complete, very coherent question.
“Where are you?” Minho’s tone was clipped, and his voice was low, but that wasn’t from a lack of sleep. He didn’t sound too happy.
“Didn’t you get my note?” Jisung had said, chuckling nervously. He’d written one and planted it, right? “I had to pick up someone’s shift this morning.”
Silence stretched for so long that Jisung almost says something else, but Minho beat him to it.
“You’re fucking with me.”
Okay, so Minho really didn’t sound too thrilled.
“What’s wrong, hyung?” Jisung said.
There was another pause before a long, deep sigh sounded from the other end of the phone. “We have an appointment, Han Jisung. In forty-three minutes.”
“What?”
He checked his watch–it was almost nine–and deemed he had enough time to sit back and talk with Minho despite knowing he’d be late if he did. He booked it to the newly-installed railing near the river, leaning on the edge and tossing his bags on the ground. Some papers spilled out, but that was the least of his concerns at that moment. Putting Minho on speaker, he pulled his phone away from his ear, opened his calendar app, and squinted, eyes frantically searching for the date.
“For what?” he had said. “I swear I checked my…” But his voice trailed off the moment his gaze landed on big, bold letters. Because holy fucking shit, he forgot the appointment for–
“The cake.” Minho said. “Our fucking wedding cake.”
Jisung internally groaned, didn't dare let the noise slip out, and squeezed his eyes shut, cursing to himself. He thought about what he’d say to the cafe when he called in to cancel, but shook his head before he got in too deep. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes–”
Minho cut him off. “Forget it. We won’t make it to our appointment on time anyway.”
“Maybe if I just meet you there instead of home—” Jisung tried again, but Minho wasn’t having it.
“I said forget it, Jisung.”
Jisung’s shoulders sagged, shrinking into his chest. “Hyung…”
“This one thing,” Minho had said. “All I asked for was no more screw-ups.”
“I didn’t mean to, hyung. I forgot. Please–”
“That’s all you ever do. Forget. If I knew you cared so little, I never would’ve proposed in the first place.”
Jisung gripped the phone against his ear, even as three soft beeps rang against it, and in that moment, he imagined that’s what a stab to the chest might feel like.
Jisung knew Minho hadn’t meant it. He was in high-stress bridezilla mode, and it had always been that way throughout their relationship. Jisung was his first, and therefore his last, and Minho often admitted, usually after an argument, that he didn’t know what he was doing.
It was always hard for him to let go of his loner persona and allow himself to be vulnerable with Jisung, but Jisung understood. He loved Minho, and he was more than willing to put up with a little attitude if it meant staying together. It wasn’t the first time Minho had said something he hadn’t meant, and it likely wouldn’t have been the last, but that was okay.
Knowing Minho, Jisung bet he’d call to apologize before he even made it home. But Jisung wanted to apologize first. He never meant to forget such important information.
He tugged off his engagement ring, thinking back to two months prior when Minho had gotten on one knee. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t know it was coming. Minho had gotten all stoic and distant like he usually did when something big was on his mind. Others may have seen it as something to be worried about, but Jisung knew his boyfriend. He’d said yes before Minho had the chance to pop the question.
When Jisung went to put the ring back on, he somehow missed his finger, awkwardly bumping it against his knuckle and fumbling it in the process. He squeaked, eyes wide as he watched the ring tumble down the grass and toward the river.
“Shit!”
Jisung dropped his phone, wincing when he heard it crack against the concrete, and hopped over the fence, rushing after the ring. It rolled, curved, and hopped over rocks as Jisung flailed behind it, doing the same. He tripped and fell a few times, but never took his eyes off the ring.
Minho was already upset with him, and if he lost his engagement ring, there might not be a wedding at all.
Jisung dove forward, sorely aware of the wide eyes following him, and grasped the ring before it tumbled into the river. The metal had never felt so good against his skin.
“Got it!”
Just in time, too. And Minho would never have to know.
Except he lost his footing at the very last second, fell forward, and plopped right into the river.
So, yes. Jisung doesn’t mean to fall in. But what’s done is done.
He falls forward at an awkward angle, but he’s close enough to the edge that he’s sure it’s shallow enough he’ll be able to get right back up. What he doesn't account for is his head smacking against a large rock at the edge of the river. He doesn’t feel much of anything other than the initial spark of shock. There’s no pain. Just a floaty feeling in his head, his body, and his heart. White surrounds him as he feels himself sink lower and lower into the river.
And the only thing he can think of is Minho’s last words to him. That, and the fact that he didn’t get to say he was sorry before he was gone.
[24 hours]
When Jisung’s eyes fly open, he expects one of two things: to be up in the clouds, surrounded by angels, or in a hospital bed, having just barely escaped death. Even if his body somehow survived the rocky impact, he would’ve drowned before being able to pull himself out of the currents he’d slipped into. He can’t swim, after all.
Even then, there are about fifty other scenarios he could have thought up in his head before ever coming up with the seemingly correct conclusion—in the middle of a war.
All around him are groups of gangster-looking individuals pushing, yelling, punching, and kicking. A body flies past him, hitting the wall, and another stumbles ahead of him, only to get knocked out two seconds later. It’s as if he were thrown into the middle of a bad movie.
Jisung takes a quick second to glance around. They’re in what looks like an abandoned warehouse. There’s ample space, but with all the moving bodies, it feels like the walls are closing in on him.
Someone bumps into Jisung from the side, and he immediately crumples to the ground, wincing when the concrete glides across his skin…that shit hurt. Which means he can’t be dreaming, right?
With this new, terrifying knowledge in hand, Jisung knows he should try to hightail it out of there, but one sudden thought wraps around his mind, paralyzing him where he sits.
Minho. Where's Minho?
There’s no way in hell he would’ve let Jisung come to wherever he is by himself.
“Minho!” he calls out, pushing himself off the ground. Ignoring the lingering pain from the nasty fall, he shoulders through the crowd, glancing at every face he passes by. “Minho!”
He eventually bumps into someone, reeling back in time to see…Hyunjin give him a look.
“Pay attention!” Hyunjin yells, and he twists himself in time to dodge an oncoming attack.
Jisung’s about to ask what was going on when Hyunjin reels his leg up and back, lifts a knife out of his boot, and propels his foot forward, kicking one man in the chest and stabbing another in the neck all at once. Jisung’s eyes widen, and a scream sticks to the back of his throat. He thinks he’s going to throw up.
He can’t watch horror movies, can’t handle death-related documentaries, so seeing someone gargle on their own blood a mere five feet away, thanks to sweet, bubbly Hyunjin of all people, doesn’t exactly qualify for the top ten best moments of his life.
Before Jisung can tuck his tail between his legs and run away, someone pops into view and lunges at him. He shrieks, squeezing his eyes shut and whipping his hands up to shield his face against the attack. He waits for the impact, but instead, hears an oomph followed by a bam and a thud, and when he forces himself to open one of his eyes, the man’s on the ground, currently towered over by a familiar face.
“Innie?” Jisung shouts.
Jeongin flinches back as the nickname leaves Jisung’s mouth, and Jisung can’t help furrowing his brows. Behind him, Chan suddenly comes into view, squats and sticks a leg out, sweeping it forward and knocking someone off their feet. He turns, makes eye contact with Jisung, and gives him the same look Jeongin had. He takes one step forward, but stops dead in his tracks and frantically waves his hands in the air.
“Boss!”
Jisung looks around to see who Chan is talking to, but there’s no one else paying them any mind in his vicinity. He points at himself, mouthing the word me?
Chan’s eyebrows furrow, the slits on the ends of each brow extremely distracting, and he turns to face the guy he was fighting, leaning his head back before smashing it forward. The man stumbles back and past Jisung, where Changbin appears out of nowhere, finishing the job with three swift punches to the man’s head. That’s when Jisung decides he really needs to get out of there.
The moment he turns, Jisung feels the tip of the knife right before he sees it.
Pain blooms in Jisung’s chest, and suddenly, his words from earlier mean nothing. Because this? This is what a stab to the chest feels like.
And for the second time that day, Jisung’s world fades to nothing.
***
When Jisung opens his eyes, he expects one of two things: to be surrounded by flames, because he’d clearly gone to hell, or to wake up in a hospital bed having nearly escaped death yet again.
This time, Jisung is only half wrong.
It isn’t a hospital bed, per se, but it’s close enough to one that Jisung knows he’s being treated. Bare, gray walls tower over him, and clutter surrounds the rest of the tiny space. There isn’t anything remarkable about it other than the fact that Jisung has no idea what or where the hell it is.
Trying and failing to push himself up forces a whimper out of him when a sharp pain shoots up his stomach, reminding him how he landed here in the first place. He looks down, only now realizing his lack of a shirt, and instead sees bloodied bandages wrapped around his upper abdomen.
His eyes trail around the rest of his body, searching for any other injuries, and he startles when he sees ink running across his collarbone and down his side. Unless someone forced them on him while he was unconscious, the thought that’s been floating around his subconscious since he first opened his eyes comes to the forefront of his mind: this can’t be Jisung’s body. He doesn’t have tattoos. But the weirdest part?
He’s thought about getting these exact same ones done.
It isn’t the weirdest part for long. When he checks his other arm for more tattoos, he sees numbers on his wrist, and before he can attempt to figure out what they mean, they move. And move again. It’s counting down.
“Is this a timer?” he murmurs aloud. "20…hours?” He doesn’t have much time to contemplate, though.
“Sungie!”
Changbin bursts through the door with tears pooling in his eyes. The moment they land on Jisung, he rushes over, kneels next to the makeshift hospital bed, and grasps his hands. With shivering eyes and a gigantic pout, Changbin glances down at Jisung’s wounds, and a few of the tears overflow.
“You idiot,” Changbin says. “You idiot. Why would you go into a fight so distracted? What could you possibly have been thinking about? You could have died!”
Jisung wants to say that he shouldn’t have been in a fight at all. That something weird was going on, and that he thinks he’s already dead, except that can’t be true because he can sure as hell feel this stab wound. But something tells him that isn’t going to cut it, so he says the next best thing.
“I’m sorry.” It’s all Jisung can think of, and apparently, the last thing Changbin expects, because his teary eyes widen and his jaw falls.
“Did you just apologize?” Changbin asks. “To me?”
Jisung’s brows furrow as he looks around the otherwise empty room. “...Yes?”
“Oh, Sung,” Changbin wails, throwing himself over Jisung’s legs. “They got you. They really got you.”
“Get off of him, hyung.” Seungmin makes his way into the room, pushing a pair of glasses up his nose. “You’ll open his stitches.”
Changbin scrambles up, whining out apologies, and Jisung just nods and shakes his head. There’s way too much happening right now. The battle, the countdown, the lack of Minho.
Jisung looks around for his fiancé again despite knowing he isn’t in the room. “Where’s–”
The door slams open, yet again, and standing there is Minho, as if summoned by Jisung’s thoughts alone. For a moment, an overwhelming sense of relief floods Jisung’s chest. He reaches towards Minho, silently begging him to come closer, except the moment he does, Jisung falters back immediately.
This is Minho. Jisung knows the shape of his lips and the fierceness of his eyes. Jisung could carve every inch of his body into the perfect sculpture despite never having picked up a chisel in his life. He could paint Minho with his eyes shut and his hands bound behind his back.
This is Minho, but it’s certainly not Jisung’s Minho.
This Minho is rough and ragged with scary, defined abs that press against his muscle shirt and scars littered across his harsh, sharp face. This Minho looks mean just to be mean, and has a permanent glare inside his otherwise empty eyes.
What in the ever-loving fuck is going on?
Minho steps forward again just as Jisung’s wrist vibrates, and when he looks down…
20:00:03
20:00:02
20:00:01
20:00:00
Immediately, he feels himself slack. His mind goes blank. And the second he closes his eyes he sees—
Minho grasps his hands. “Please say you still want to marry me. Actually, let’s do it tomorrow! You wanted a fast wedding, right? Let’s go right now–”
Confusion.
“Wedding?” Jisung says. “The fuck are you talking about?”
Anger.
“Jisung, do you…do you know who I am?”
Annoyance.
“No shit, Minho. But I don’t know what you’re saying about love and marriage and why you’re blubbering like a baby all over me.”
Flustered.
Jisung is left alone, and the only thought he has is that he really must have died, because this isn’t his world, and that certainly isn’t his Minho.
…
Everything fades to black–
[20 hours]
–but only for a moment.
Jisung sits up straight with a gasp, his heart pounding and sweat dripping down his neck. When he checks his wrist, the countdown has continued.
19:59:24
19:59:23
19:59:22
Jisung has switched bodies with some other Jisung. It makes no sense, but he knows it’s true, because a piece of the puzzle just…clicks. He’s stuck as some gangster, and now the other him is ruining his relationship even more than he already has.
Wonderful.
As insane as it sounds, there’s no use arguing with the facts. Besides, he’s pretty sure the first rule in Dealing With Crazy Shit 101 is acceptance.
Minho stalks up to Jisung’s bed, bends down, and scowls. “What the fuck was that, Han?”
Minho doesn’t stay by Jisung’s side for long. He scowls at Jisung one more time when he doesn’t answer his question in two seconds, spins around, stomps out of the room, and knocks a random bottle over on the way out.
The shock on Jisung’s face must be prevalent, because Seungmin coughs, raises a brow, and says, “Surely you were expecting that.”
“I–was I supposed to?”
Seungmin doesn’t answer. Just pauses before walking over, sitting next to Jisung, and undoing his bandages. Jisung takes that as a sign to shut up and let him do what he needs, and a few minutes later, he’s got a cream on his stomach and fresh, clean wraps.
“Thank you,” he murmurs, and Seungmin pauses yet again.
“Get some rest, hyung,” he says. “The others will come to see you soon.”
Jisung only hums, though Seungmin’s out the door before he can get the noise out. He’s grateful for the time alone, because he needs a moment to process everything that just happened.
He looks down at his wrist. It’s still counting down. Seungmin hadn’t said anything, and Jisung had tried to make it as visible as possible when getting his bandages changed. So this thing was either normal, though he didn’t see it only any of the other visitors’ wrists, or something only Jisung could see.
Sighing, Jisung then thinks back to the weird flashback he saw of other Jisung in his world. The moment it was over, the tiny bits of information he knows now suddenly appeared in the back of his mind as if he had known them all along. Now he needs to get back to his Minho to salvage their relationship, but this, he doesn’t know how to do.
All he knows is he sounds like a complete and utter lunatic.
Jisung sighs, slowly lying back down. He doesn’t know exactly what’s going on, but if nothing else is telling him this isn’t in his world, it’s the fact that this Minho is not his.
He closes his eyes as Seungmin recommends, but for the next few hours, he doesn’t get a wink of sleep.
***
“They also said there was nothing off about your brain scans, but…you’re acting a little different, man,” Chan says.
Annoyance.
“So what?” Jisung counters.
Defiance.
“So, you’re breaking your fiancé’s heart.”
Hesitance.
Minho smiles, as best as he can. “Ready to head home?”
Reluctance.
“Whatever.”
…
[16 hours]
The other Jisung’s relationship with his friends–lackeys? subordinates? goons?–is interesting, to say the least. They all came into his room at the same time, almost fighting for who got to go in first. Changbin and Hyunjin nearly took each other’s heads off trying to get through the door first, and Seungmin and Jeongin rolled their eyes, having no issue being last. It’s loud, it’s rowdy, and though these aren’t really Jisung’s friends, it feels a little bit like home.
In the last hour that Jisung’s gotten to know them, he understands three things.
- There’s some sort of hierarchy here, and Jisung is the head honcho.
- They’re absolutely terrified of him.
- They love him all the same.
The first two observations go somewhat hand-in-hand. Everyone, even those older than him, even Chan, treats Jisung with the utmost respect, as if he’s someone to be admired. This is something he doesn’t think he’ll ever see back in his universe.
He’ll admit he’s basking in the glory.
But with every look and involuntary twitch Jisung gives, he’s met with the lowering of a head, a flinch, or wide eyes. It’s as if everyone’s afraid to make the wrong move. As if they’re afraid they’ll break him.
Maybe they aren’t scared of Jisung. Maybe they’re scared for him.
“Um,” Jisung says, feeling uncomfortable amidst the tension. “You guys don’t have to, like…be afraid or anything. I’m okay.”
No one was talking before, but it somehow gets even quieter. No wind howls, no birds chirp. Everyone stares at Jisung as if he’s got two heads. But then Changbin cackles, and so do Hyunjin and Chan, and Seungmin and Jeongin glance at each other and smirk.
“Changbin was right,” Felix says. “They really did get you good.”
Everyone surprisingly relaxes after that. Conversation flows around them as they talk about things Jisung knows nothing about. The Hans versus the Mins, the Parks versus the Lees, and who, in the end, would get the entirety of the Jung territory.
None of it means anything to Jisung, but it’s still nice, sitting with somewhat-familiar company despite his batshit crazy day. He feels warm, he feels protected. He feels kind of okay.
“Thanks for spending time with me,” Jisung says. He’s never been the type to bottle his feelings. “It helps.”
Jisung knows the other Jisung isn’t normally like this, but the positive response he gets from a simple thanks is shocking.
Felix gives him a blinding smile. Jeongin blushes.
Chan says, “Can’t you be like this all the time?”
Seungmin shudders. “I think it’s creepy as fuck.”
“Hope you feel better soon, Boss,” Hyunjin says with a click of his tongue.
“Yeah,” Felix chimes in. “We love you.”
“Dude.”
“What? If he ain’t gonna punch me, I might as well say it now, right?”
They start to argue amongst themselves, and Jisung stifles a laugh, positive that if he lets that one out, he’ll end up breaking them.
Hyunjin eventually asks him a question that he turns to answer, but before he can, his wrist vibrates, he goes slack, and he sees the other Jisung standing outside the guest room door.
“It’s over,” Minho’s wobbly voice says, and Jisung freezes.
Concern.
Minho’s crying.
Regret.
“No, hyung,” Minho sobs. “You don’t understand. It’s ruined. My relationship is ruined.”
…
“Boss?” Hyunjin says, waving a hand in front of his face, but Jisung doesn’t respond.
He just feels empty. Like all his heart can do is break.
[12 hours]
Time moves slowly for Jisung with the guys no longer here to distract him. They left after he had gone quiet from seeing the recent flashback, and assumed he needed some time alone. If he weren’t bedridden, per Dr. Kim Seungmin’s orders, he’d go outside, get some fresh air, and think about what he could possibly do next.
How dare he enjoy his time here while his fiancé, the love of his life, suffers back at home? He wants to find someone to direct his anger at. To the universe, maybe, for putting him here in the first place, or to the other Jisung, for making Minho feel that way. But he could feel the other Jisung’s emotions, and the guilt he was carrying with him.
He knows the only person he can really blame is himself for leaving Minho the way he did in the first place.
Jisung sighs, pressing his head in his hands, and when the door to his room opens, he almost gathers the courage to tell whoever it is to go away, no matter how clingy they may be. When he looks up, however, he sees it’s Minho who’s come back after disappearing.
Jisung’s lips purse as he looks up. He almost asks what Minho wants when he walks over to the bed, pushing Jisung down, and straddles his lap. Wide-eyed, Jisung whips his arms above his face as Minho leans down, just barely blocking his lips from a kiss.
Minho sits back up, but grabs the sheets to the sides of Jisung’s body, scrunching them in between his fists.
“What the hell are you doing?” Minho asks.
Incredulous, Jisung brings his arms even closer to his face. “What am I doing? What are you doing!”
“What we always do. Now move your hands.”
“What the hell? No!”
“No?” Minho asks, as if the word were foreign to him, and Jisung can’t help but glare at the nerve.
“Look,” Jisung says. “I’m just not–I’m not your Jisung, I–”
Minho sits back and cackles before rolling off Jisung and onto the floor. He growls, punches the ground, and stands back up with a nasty glare. “You don’t have to play the insanity card. You don’t have to lie. What, am I dirty all of a sudden? You suddenly give a fuck about the others, and now you’re too good for me?”
“Minho–”
“No!” Minho yells. “Don’t say a fucking word. I know how this works. Get me wrapped about your puny fucking finger and throw me to the goddamn side as soon as you’re tired of me.”
Minho heaves, breaths heavy and eyes wild, and turns around, biting bruises into his bottom lip. Still, there’s some kind of hope in his expression. He’s almost begging Jisung to prove him wrong. But before Jisung can say anything, his body goes slack.
Minho’s red-rimmed eyes.
Guilt.
Howl’s Moving Castle.
Content.
…
By the time Jisung’s eyes open again, Minho’s gone.
[8 hours]
Han Jisung wants to go home, and he only has eight more hours to make that happen.
He knows, now, that he has to die. The moment he opened his eyes again, that feeling prevalent in his stomach told him so. He has no hesitations–if that’s what he needs to do to get back to his Minho, then so be it. The only question is, how?
Thankfully, his prayers are answered in the form of Hyunjin shouting that the Mins want a rematch in less than five hours.
“Who the fuck demands a rematch at two in the fucking morning?” Seungmin, who was checking on Jisung’s bandages, mutters, but he quickly makes himself useful, gathering what he needs in case anyone comes back injured.
“He’s worried.” Changbin, who was simply keeping Jisung company, cackles, but he, too, makes himself scarce to go practice.
One by one, Jisung listens to the gang retreat to get themselves prepared, and with them goes the calmness that was lingering in the air. For a moment, Jisung just sits on his bed, his head full of unwanted thoughts. Gang fights can happen at any moment, and they need to stop what they’re doing to get ready to maybe die? Jisung can't imagine living a life like this forever.
There’s a knock at the door, and Jisung expects to see Felix or Hyunjin, but instead, it’s Minho standing underneath the frame.
Jisung tenses up at the sight of him, but Minho looks down and says the last word Jisung expects to hear.
“Sorry.”
Jisung stares at him with wide eyes and a wide mouth, but snaps it shut when Minho glares. “What for?”
Minho shrugs, closing the door behind him. “For coming on to you, I guess. You’ve never…” He huffs, shuffling and sitting on the edge of the bed. “I know you’re not in your right mind, but that’s never stopped us before, and I thought–I’m just sorry, okay?”
And Jisung thinks he gets it. He isn’t sure how he’d react if his Minho ever rejected him like that. Well, okay, he’s positive he wouldn’t react the way this Minho did, but things aren’t the same in this world. Their relationships aren’t the same.
“Okay,” Jisung says. “I forgive you.” There’s some part of him that thinks other Jisung would’ve done the same.
Minho grabs the back of Jisung’s neck, and Jisung quickly turns his head, feeling like a fool and bracing for another kiss he didn’t agree to. Their lips never touch, though. Instead, his cheek is pressed against Minho's chest as arms wrap around his body.
As hot as the abs are, they're nothing compared to the safety that is his Minho's pillowy tummy. He squeezes his eyes shut, forcing back tears. He wants to go home. He misses his Minho’s soft hugs and gentle kisses.
“What are you doing, Minho?” Jisung murmurs.
“We have that fight soon.”
“We do.”
Minho coughs, tightening his arms. “I…can I tell you something?”
“Of course.”
“You know I’m not good with my words and shit.”
Jisung almost makes a smartass comment, but he can feel how much Minho is struggling with how tightly he’s holding on, so he just hums his encouragement instead.
"I almost lost you. I know you don't care, but I do. I always have...so don't die, okay?"
Jisung’s heart clenches. He won’t make a promise he isn’t going to keep. So, instead, he just hugs Minho back, who melts against the returned embrace, and internally, he apologizes.
[4 hours]
For the first time since he woke up, Jisung gets out of bed. Minho is by his side the entire time, from the moment they’re out the door to the moment they arrive at the fight, and that only makes what Jisung knows he has to do a little harder.
This fight is nothing like the one from before. The guys are bigger, look stronger, and he swears some of the weapons are longer, too.
Which is perfect for him, actually.
Jisung is aware there are eyes on him, making sure he’s okay, so he whispers a quiet apology and charges headfirst into the battle.
“Jisung!”
And this time, he sees the knife coming.
It hurts just as badly as it did the first time, but not for long. He doesn’t turn this time, allowing it to hit him right in the chest. He closes his eyes as the world fades around him, and he feels himself smile, knowing everything’s going to be okay.
Maybe his body crumples to the ground, or maybe it disappears altogether. Maybe time pauses and rewinds, or maybe it just stops. Jisung doesn’t really care how it all works. All he cares about is that he’s going home.
White flashes around him, and the last face he sees isn’t the other Jisung’s, or even his own Minho’s. It’s the other Minho who came to him with fear and vulnerability in his eyes. And as he passes by other Jisung, physically feels his soul go back to where it belongs, he only has one thought.
Take care of him.