Chapter Text
The chirps of birds could be heard as the sun slowly rose in the London sky. Pale rays of light slipped through the window, illuminating the otherwise quiet room.
Pyeong wouldn't have chosen a chair to sleep on for the night, but he couldn't risk being far away should Alfred suffer any complications.
Pyeong's achy sleep was interrupted by a weak voice from beside him. He jolted awake, a sharp protest running through his stiff neck and shoulders. For a brief moment he was disoriented before his gaze landed on the man in the bed.
"Pyeong...?" Alfred had groaned his name, seemingly as soon as he woke up.
"Alfred? You're awake?"
Alfred closed his eyes and laughed softly as he nodded, "Yes." Pyeong smiled down at him. That little fight was stupid, wasn't it?
Honestly, it felt a tad bit ridiculous now. After everything that had happened, it hardly seemed worth remembering.
"Is anything amiss, Alfred?"
"My stomach really hurts." He replied with a wince, one hand drifting toward the bandages around his abdomen.
Pyeong suppressed a sigh of relief. Complaining about pain was far preferable to finding him unconscious or feverish.
"That can't be helped, I'm afraid."
'Let me check if he has a fever, I sure hope he doesn't have Atelectasis from being under that long.' Pyeong thought as he placed a warm hand on Alfred's forehead, it was stable, thankfully.
"Um, Pyeong?" Alfred hesitated, as though unsure whether he should continue, "Thank you, I owe you yet again."
"I'm sorry for getting angry at you." He stared up at Pyeong, guilt lingering in his eyes.
"You don't need to apologize, Alfred." Pyeong sighed. He had known Alfred was sorry the moment he'd woken up. Why did it need to be said aloud?
"If anything, I should be the one apologizing for yelling at you." He said as he lifted his hand from Alfred's forehead.
A rustle from the other side of the bed came quietly. Joseph blinked awake, his hair a complete mess from sleep.
His gaze drifted between the two men.
They were talking. Without tension!
They had finally gotten through their argument.
Thank heavens!
Pyeong continued with his monologue as the other men listened, "I think I was just frustrated, because like you said, there's nothing we can do to treat Syphilis yet."
His gaze fell to the floorboards. The exhaustion he'd been keeping at bay all night suddenly seemed to settle over his shoulders.
"I'm sorry for taking it out on you--" Pyeong's sentence was cut short as something slammed into his side. He nearly stumbled before realizing Joseph had attached himself to him like a barnacle. Alfred also jumped a little, startled just as much as he was.
"AHH!" Joseph wailed, still clinging to Pyeong's arm for dear life. The ravenette stared at him in stunned silence.
"Did you have any idea how miserable it was? Being caught between you two?? I told you not to fight!" He wailed as Alfred tried and failed to suppress a laugh. "Pft--"
"You both owe me an apology as well, you fools!"
And that was that.
To be quite honest, Pyeong had almost forgotten about his life before... all of this.
Of course, he still remembered the things that had been vital in the medical field. Procedures, treatments, anatomy—those remained as clear as ever. Everything else, however, had slowly faded into the background. There had simply been no time to dwell on it.
But here it was, right in front of him.
Or rather, the conversation had dragged it back to the surface.
The group had been discussing possible solutions for Syphilis, particularly Alfred's proposal to distribute condoms at parties.
Which was a good idea in theory.
If one ignored Alfred's painfully naive nature.
Before he could voice his concerns, a sudden burst of light erupted in the room. Pyeong instinctively shielded his eyes.
"Is this an angel?" Joseph yelled.
The room fell silent.
The light lingered for only a moment before beginning to fade. As shapes slowly emerged from the brilliance, Joseph's voice died in his throat.
"I... do not think that is an angel." He muttered.
'Thank you, Mr. Obvious!' The thought remained firmly in his head.
As their vision adjusted, they found themselves staring at something far stranger.
Themselves.
-----------------------------
Pyeong absolutely hated studying, especially when it involved topics that seemed entirely irrelevant to him.
Sure, he was a smart guy, but not because of some natural talent. It came from hours of tedious reading and studying. How else was he supposed to become a doctor? First, he had to get into Harvard or at least a top tier medical school.
Judging by the expressions around the table, Joseph and Alfred were just as fed up as he was.
"I don't get why Shakespeare is so hyped up," Joseph groaned, finally looking away from the Hamlet tab on his laptop. "Half of this sounds like another language. What exactly is this supposed to do for me in the long run?"
"Ms. Jones said we have to read it, so we have to read it," Alfred replied with a shrug. "It's required for AP Lit."
"It's batty. That's what it is," Joseph protested. "Pyeong, what do you think of it?"
"I think it's boring, but if reading it gets me a test grade, I'll do it." Pyeong looked up from his tablet. "Besides, if you can't read it now, do you really think the exam will be any easier?"
Joseph took the hint and groaned before returning to his laptop.
Exams were approaching, and Ms. Jones was one of those teachers who insisted on giving her own final exam on top of the state-mandated ones.
As if AP Literature didn't already have enough testing.
"Er, Pyeong?"
Alfred's voice pulled him from his work.
Pyeong glanced up.
"What does parle mean?"
Internally, Pyeong sighed. Being the smart one often meant becoming everyone's personal dictionary. "If it's being used as a verb, it means 'to speak.' As a noun, it means a speech."
Alfred's mouth formed a small 'o' as understanding dawned on him. "Got it. Thanks."
Pyeong responded with a thumbs-up before returning to his notes. What he would not give for a break.
God, he wished he could just skip all of this and become a doctor already. No more exams. No more assignments.
Just medicine.
Only, he would come to regret that wish.
Because it came true.
In the worst way imaginable.
He had only gotten up because he was thirsty. His water bottle had been empty for the past twenty minutes, and he was finally tired of ignoring it.
Pyeong pushed his chair back and stood.
"Where are you going?"
Joseph looked up from his laptop, one hand reaching out to catch Pyeong's wrist before he could leave.
"Water fountain. I'm thirsty."
"Oh." Joseph glanced at the empty bottle beside him. "Mine's empty too. Mind if I come with?"
Pyeong stared at him. Joseph stared back. Pyeong already knew exactly what he was doing.
"Sure..." he drawled. Joseph immediately brightened. "We'll be back soon, Alfred."
"Have fun," Alfred replied without looking up from his work.
"We're getting water."
"Mhm." Joseph narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Alfred as he followed after Pyeong.
Alfred merely smiled to himself.
By the time the two returned, Alfred was gone. Pyeong frowned.
That was odd.
His laptop was still open on the table. His notes remained scattered across the surface exactly as he had left them.
"He probably went to the bathroom," Joseph suggested. Pyeong glanced at him before nodding.
Yeah. Probably.
Still, Alfred was not usually the type to leave all of his belongings unattended.
The two returned to studying. Ten minutes passed in relative silence.
Pyeong looked up from his notes, prepared to ask Joseph about a chemistry problem. The seat beside him was empty. He blinked.
What?
Joseph's laptop remained on the table. His backpack was still hooked onto the back of his chair.
But Joseph himself was nowhere to be found.
A strange feeling settled in Pyeong's stomach.
This was really weird.
Before he could stand, a blinding light engulfed his vision. The library vanished. The chair beneath him disappeared.
"OW!" Pyeong landed hard on a wooden floor, pain shooting through his tailbone. For a moment all he could see was white.
Then the light began to fade. "Guys?" he called out, squinting.
A familiar groan answered him.
Joseph.
Alfred was beside him as well, looking just as confused. Relief washed over him.
It lasted approximately three seconds.
"Is that an angel?" The voice came from somewhere ahead of them. All three froze.
As the remaining light faded, figures slowly came into focus.
Men.
Three of them to be exact.
Pyeong's breath caught.
Because they looked familiar.
Far too familiar.
One of them looked exactly like him.
"Holy shit."
Joseph's voice came out as little more than a whisper.
He was staring at himself. Actually staring at himself.
"Good Heavens." The other Joseph spoke at the exact same moment.
For several seconds, neither moved.
"I-is this some kind of prank?" Joseph demanded, finally finding his voice. "Did Colin put you up to this? What is this?"
He scrambled to his feet so quickly that his chair nearly toppled over. Alfred and Pyeong followed suit.
The man who looked like Pyeong appeared just as stunned as they were.
No.
More than stunned.
The man was looking at them as though he had seen a ghost.
Which was funny, considering Pyeong felt much the same.
"Why would Colin make us do this?" The one who looked like Alfred asked.
"Because he's a serial asshole!" Joseph replied back immediately.
Pyeong had to agree. Colin was a bastard.
The other Joseph looked appalled, his expression making it seem as though Joseph had just admitted to some terrible crime.
"Listen, if this is one of Colin's schemes, can you just, like, hurry it up? We have studying to do. Actually productive things other than being racist." Pyeong spoke up, already growing fed up with the situation.
He could have been on Act Three by now.
"What is a racist?"
The room fell silent.
All three boys stared at each other, genuinely confused.
Then Alfred started laughing.
Because genuinely, where had Colin found actors like these?
The guy was pretty wealthy, even if it was daddy's money.
"Are you being—pft—" Joseph choked on a laugh. "Serious? Oh my God, this is rich."
The three men exchanged bewildered glances.
None of them laughed.
Pyeong's amusement quickly faded.
These guys looked confused.
Like genuinely confused.
"Guys." He looked between his friends. "I don't think they know what racists are."
"No way."
"Yes way, look at them. They look like we're explaining quantum mechanics."
Again, the three men simply stared. Well, only two.
Looking even more confused than before.
"Racists—like the people that... discriminate against others because of their race?" Alfred said in a questioning tone.
Joseph frowned. "Then why not simply call them prejudiced?"
"Or bigoted?" Alfred's look-a-like suggested.
Joseph placed a hand on Alfred's shoulder. "I think they don't know."
"Uhm."
Now it was suddenly awkward.
Painfully awkward.
The six of them stood in silence, staring at one another.
Nobody seemed particularly eager to be the first person to explain whatever this was.
"Why do you look like us?" Pyeong asked, taking the lead.
"We should be asking you that!" The man who looked like Joseph retorted back immediately.
His accent sounded strange.
He sounded british.
Not old enough to be difficult to understand, but different enough for Pyeong to notice.
"This must be the devil—"
Alfred 2.0 whimpered and immediately began praying under his breath.
"Oh, bugger off, that's batty! We're not demons!" Joseph complained.
The room fell quiet once more.
For the first time, the boys properly looked at the men standing before them.
The resemblance was uncanny.
The man who looked like Joseph was staring back with equal disbelief. His hair was tidier, his clothes far more formal, but the expression on his face was unmistakably Joseph.
The Alfred look-a-like looked thoroughly distressed. He seemed one step away from fainting. There was a cane at his side as well, and only now did Pyeong notice he appeared injured.
And then there was Pyeong's counterpart.
Unlike the other two, he hadn't said a word. Not once. He simply watched.
His gaze moved carefully between the three boys as though he was thinking. But about what?
Same dark hair.
Same sharp eyes.
There were faint shadows beneath his eyes and a weariness in his expression that seventeen-year-old Pyeong had never seen in a mirror.
For some reason, that bothered him.
And then Pyeong's eyes focused on his look-a-like.
"Why haven't you spoke yet?"
-----------------------------
Pyeong never thought he'd see his younger self from the 21st century standing right in front of him.'
And with Joseph and Alfred too. They never existed when he was in the 21st century.
His counterpart couldn't have been older than seventeen.
Then the younger Pyeong asked a simple question.
"Why haven't you spoke yet?"
A smart question, really.
The older Alfred and Joseph had immediately begun questioning the situation, understandably so. Three strange young men had appeared in Alfred's house in a burst of light wearing bizarre clothing and speaking nonsense.
But the older Pyeong already knew.
Or at least, he knew more than they did.
Because he had once stood exactly where they were standing now.
Eventually, everyone sat down.
The younger Pyeong raised a hand. "I have a theory on what is going on. But it's going to sound insane. So buckle up."
The younger Joseph and Alfred nodded.
"Buckle up?" the older Alfred asked.
"It's a figure of speech. As in, get ready." The younger Pyeong pinched the bridge of his nose. "Actually, never mind."
The older Alfred nodded as though that had explaine everything.
It clearly hadn't.
"We're from the twenty-first century. This seems to be..." The younger Pyeong glanced around the room. "...the nineteenth century."
"In Britain, right?"
The older trio exchanged glances before nodding.
"We went back in time and met ourselves." He said it so casually that even the older Joseph blinked.
"Sounds like a MatPat theory," the younger Joseph mumbled.
The older Pyeong nearly laughed.
Apparently some things never changed.
"But it's possible, isn't it?" the younger Joseph continued. "I mean, look at them. Colin's an annoying prick, but I don't think even he'd spend money on authentic Victorian stuff. Their clothes look real."
"True enough," the younger Alfred agreed.
"Wait!" the older Joseph interrupted. "What are you talking about? How is it possible to travel through time?"
"As in we went from 2026 to..." The younger Pyeong looked around. "1807? That's my guess."
The older Pyeong felt an odd spark of pride.
His younger self was intelligent.
"Around that year," he admitted.
The younger Pyeong immediately pointed at him. "You're awfully nonchalant about this."
The older Pyeong resisted the urge to sigh. "I don't react quickly."
"That's not true."
"It is."
"It isn't." The younger Pyeong narrowed his eyes.
"Everyone else is freaking out and you're acting like somebody told you it's raining."
The younger Joseph snorted.
"And you weren't surprised when I said 2026."
The room quieted.
Pyeong said nothing.
"I think there's more shit going on here." Too smart.
Annoyingly so.
Before the Pyeong could formulate a response, the younger Alfred cleared his throat.
"Before you start arguing with yourself, can we discuss whether we're going home?"
His voice had grown noticeably smaller.
"I don't mean to be rude, but..."
"Hm?" the younger Joseph nudged him.
"Dude. Just say it."
The younger Alfred motioned for them to lean closer. The younger Joseph immediately complied. The younger Pyeong followed a second later.
The younger Joseph's shoulder brushed his as they huddled together.
Neither commented on it.
"It stinks here."
The confession was whispered with all the gravity of a state secret.
For a moment, neither the younger Joseph nor the younger Pyeong spoke.
Then the younger Joseph doubled over laughing.
Alfred looked offended. "It's true!"
The younger Pyeong pressed a hand over his mouth, trying—and failing—not to smile. "It is the nineteenth century," he informed him. "What exactly were you expecting?"
"Not this."
"You're smelling horse manure, coal smoke, body odor, and perfume desperately trying to cover all three."
The younger Alfred looked horrified.
"Oh God."
"I don't think they smell, though," the younger Pyeong added. "They're clearly upper-class."
"I can't handle this anymore." The younger Alfred buried his face in his hands. "I'm going to die."
"You're not going to die."
"And why am I injured?"
The younger trio immediately looked toward the older Alfred.
The older Alfred stiffened.
"I beg your pardon?"
"You have a cane."
The older Alfred glanced down at it.
"Oh."
"Oh?" the younger Alfred repeated.
"Stop being a baby," the younger Joseph interrupted. "We traveled two hundred years into the past and your biggest concern is hygiene."
"Yes."
"But what about home?" the younger Alfred asked quietly.
The laughter died.
A brief silence settled over the younger trio.
Even the younger Joseph didn't have a joke for that one.
"Why are you asking me?" the younger Pyeong replied. "Do you want me to build a time machine?"
The younger Joseph immediately pointed at him. "I believe you could."
The younger Pyeong rolled his eyes. "Don't push it, Joseph."
"I'm serious."
"That's worse."
The younger Joseph grinned. The younger Pyeong looked away first.
"Excuse me." The older Alfred's voice cut through the room. The three teenagers straightened immediately.
The older Alfred looked between them.
"What exactly has the three of you so worked up?"
"None-ya." Younger Pyeong said, "We'll use them for shelter for now! I'm sure they would." He said quickly before they all turned to them.
This would be a hassle, wouldn't it?