Timeless [ Part II ]
Title: Timeless
Rating: PG-13 ((for now))
Pairing: XiuHan
Word count: approx. 7,400 (so far)
Summary: Hopeless dreamer Kim Minseok spends his days fantasizing of other times and faraway places while earning next-to-nothing at a downtown used book store. That is, until a strangely familiar face turns his life into something unforgettable like out of the books he holds so dear.
[ PROLOGUE ] [ PART I ]
Part II
Chicago, 1924
If jazz had a smell, it was sweet liquor and cigars.
The night was young but the streets were crowded. Heels higher than a generation before trotted aimlessly over the cobbles while young men boomed with laughter and slipped feather boas over bare shoulders of the beautiful women linked onto their arms. The stage of bright lights and frivolity had once been Lu Han’s playground, for a short while at least. He could still taste the wine and tobacco under his tongue. This visit, however, was not a personal call of that variety.
As soon as the doors to the club swung open, wafts of warm smoke and the sound of a bleating saxophone escaped on the breeze. He was greeted by a stern, suited man with arms like the roots of mountains and, after breathing selective words into his ear, the man stepped aside to let him pass. Inside, the music roared and bodies mingled merrily in the feral air that almost glowed. It was a short, precious time where every soul, regardless of race, gender or even sexuality, could mingle behind the elegant yet shrouded entrances of speakeasies scattered throughout the country. The men wore make-up and women flashed plenty of skin. The forbidden nectar passed casually in tall glasses between hands without a single fear of retribution.
So much for Prohibition.
He swung the jacket from his back and, after hitting the bar, Lu Han took a left and headed to the cluster of leather seats overlooking the dance floor. Through the smoky haze, a certain acquaintance of his lounged happily, swirling a drink in one hand while the other played with the locks of a blonde fawning over his every word. As Lu Han approached, he looked up and beamed with surprise.
“Ah, look who it is! Sit down, sit down, old friend. I’ll order another round.”
Kris, or whatever name was going by in this century, flicked a hand in the air to wave the girl away and motioned to the seat opposite. Lu Han remained standing.
“That won’t be necessary.” He wasn’t planning on staying long, if he could help it. “Where’s Yixing?”
Kris cocked an eyebrow. “Where do you think?”
His eyes flicked to the edge of the dance floor where, just as he expected, Zhang Yixing was canoodling with a pair of excitable, giggling females with beaded dresses that barely skimmed the bottom of their knees. A cigarette hung lazily from the corner of his mouth as a hand cupped at one of the girl’s jaws flirtatiously. Her blush practically lit up the entire venue.
Lu Han couldn’t help but sigh. “He hasn’t changed.”
A snort echoed in the space between them.
“Don’t tell me you’ve gotten boring in your old age. Somebody spent far too much time in the Great Depression, by the looks of it.”
“The ‘30s were awfully depressing,” Lu Han admitted. “Or they will be…or have been…dammit, I’m terrible with tenses.”
Before long, Yixing had looked across and met Lu Han’s gaze, returning it with a passionate, if slightly unsteady, wave of his arm. He shoved his drink into one of his companion’s hands, leapt over the barrier and pulled Lu Han into a jolly embrace.
“Lu Han! You’ve returned to us!”
Unable to keep himself upright once he untangled himself from Lu Han’s grip, Yixing wavered on the spot slightly and fell backwards onto Kris’ seat. He swung his legs around, completely unfazed, and draped them over the sofa’s arm while stealing a gulp of any drink within arm’s reach that he certainly didn’t pay for.
“It’s so nice to see you again, old chap! You’re looking well!” he cried over the music, almost dribbling mixer onto his chin.
“And you’re looking very drunk.”
It didn’t appear to bother him. “How’s your mission going? Have you finally succeeded?”
Kris was practically dangling over the other end of the sofa by this point with the little room he had. “Ah, yes, his glorious adventure to find true love. How could I forget?”
When Lu Han failed to utter a word, Yixing leaned forward to clap him regretfully on the back of the legs.
“Not to worry! There’s plenty of true love in here to go around! Just take your pick!” He swung his arm around dramatically. The girls from the dance floor had crept closer and gathered nearby, shooting sly glances in Yixing’s direction until he noticed them again. Jolly Roll Morton’s “King Porter Stop” began to play from the piano. He just couldn’t help himself.
Sloppily rising from his sprawled position, he swigged the last of the contents in his glass and said, “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, the beating heart inside my chest needs some consolation.”
“More like the beating heart between his legs,” Lu Han muttered as he stumbled away.
Kris sniggered. “You should stay a while! We have so much to catch up on, no doubt!”
“I don’t think so. I’ve seen enough of this era to last me several lifetimes. I’m checking in purely out of civility.”
“Suit yourself.” His thick eyebrows met. “Any news on Zitao’s whereabouts?”
Lu Han shook his head. In truth, he hadn’t caught hide nor hair of Hwang Zitao in the last couple of decades. The last he’d seen of him was the Xinhai revolution in 1911. Where Zitao was at that moment, he had no idea. He could have been anywhere.
“Has he not checked in with you guys?” he enquired.
“Only a couple of times. He’s usually asking about you more than anything else.”
Of course he is, Lu Han thought.
He scoffed. “As always.”
Suddenly the air around them became darker, as though the moon was suddenly hidden behind thick clouds. Despite the merry and musical atmosphere, Kris’ face grew serious as he sipped his glass and Lu Han decided to perch on the opposite seat after all. He bent forward as far as his body would allow as the elder spoke in a deep voice.
“I admire what you’re doing, Lu Han, I do. It’s an commendable feat what you’re trying to achieve. I can’t imagine searching every age for something that may or may not exist. You’ve got the determination, I’ll give you that.” Kris set his drink down onto the dark wooden table between them and linked his long fingers on his knees. “But you know the dangers. You know what’ll happen if you keep this up.”
“It’s a fate destined for all of us,” Lu Han replied automatically.
“But a helluva lot quicker for you if you don’t calm it down. Find an era, any era in any century, and settle. Give yourself a rest before-”
Lu Han shook his head. He hadn’t travelled through time and over continents to hear another lecture. They’d tried before and no doubt they’d try again until their lungs caved in but nothing Kris or Yixing or certainly even Zitao could say was going to change his mind. He rose to his feet.
“If I stop now…” he said, slipping his arms into his suit jacket. “What was the point of it all?”
Somewhere in eastern California, 1861
The words clung to the back of his throat like sand on a wet shore, making it almost impossible to speak.
“1861…”
There it was, printed as clear as day in black and bold typography. No matter how many times Minseok blinked or rubbed his eyes to check if he was hallucinating, those numbers didn’t disappear. He couldn’t bring himself to pick the old newspaper up so, instead, he shakily moved his foot across until the wind caught its edges and set it free.
Before any other words could escape his lips, Minseok froze to the sound of low, rumbling thunder that vibrated through the ground.
“What’s that sound?”
Lu Han’s head darted around, ears pricked. His eyes widened.
“What is it? Lu Han? What’s going on?”
“Horses,” he mouthed and Minseok’s chest tightened. “We’ve gotta move!”
Lu Han grabbed a tight hold of his wrist again and pulled him along while they ran. They headed straight for the ghost town and its empty, wooden bones of desolate buildings and crumbling shacks. They swung into the nearest abandoned store and crouched low behind the door just in time for the thundering of hooves to catch up with their steps on the road outside. Keeping as close to the ground as possible, Minseok shuffled along behind Lu Han until they reached the window and peered out apprehensively through the gaps in the broken glass. He could hear his heart rattling in his ribcage.
“Bandits? Are those actual bandits?”
Lu Han didn’t reply but his lips twitched at the corners with amusement.
It was like something out of a movie. Dark skinned, rugged men in loose shirts had galloped into the town like a pack of hungry wolves. On their heads sat wide hats and fringed slacks hugged their thick thighs and, even from such a distance, Minseok could make out the shining sweat on their temples and scars littering the flashes of bronze skin. They were crying out and yelling at each other in a language Minseok didn’t recognise.
He leaned close to Lu Han’s ear. “If this is a reality show, then you’ve done a pretty g-”
A finger flew to his lips, holding them still.
“This isn’t a reality show,” Lu Han breathed. “This is real life and if you don’t stop talking, they’ll put a bullet in your skull. Understand?”
Minseok swallowed hard and nodded.
The men had gathered in the square, some swinging their horses around violently in a circle while others met in the centre with their heads bent low. The veil of pale dirt kicked up from the horses’ hooves made it difficult to make them out but the occasional glint of their pistols in the bright sunlight was enough to make Minseok’s heart stammer even more painfully in his chest. They didn’t stick around long, although it felt like an age, and soon they’d disappeared in a billowing cloud of dust and galloped off into the distance.
After a minute or so of waiting with only their harsh breaths to fill the silence, Lu Han and Minseok stepped back outside cautiously. The dust was beginning to settle and everything was quiet.
“W-who the hell were they?” Minseok managed to croak.
“Mexican outlaws is my guess. There’s probably a hoard of rangers being paid a buck load from the government to track them down and bring back their heads.” Lu Han turned with a wide smile. “Exciting, huh?”
Exciting, he says…
“I’m just gonna…sit down…for a while…”
Unable to keep his legs upright any longer, Minseok plonked himself down onto the dusty earth and lifted up his knees to stick his head between them.
“I’m dreaming,” he began to mutter. “This is all just a very vivid, very strange dream and any minute now I’m going to wake up in my bed in 2013 and-”
“You’re not dreaming,” said Lu Han with a chuckle, grabbing his hair and pulling his head back again.
Minseok swatted his hand away. “I can’t be in 1860s America right now. It’s not even possible.”
“California, to be exact,” he replied in a cheery tone.
Minseok huffed. This boy was impossible.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
He was definitely laughing now. “I’m enjoying you. You’re always so…entertaining.”
There he goes again…
“Alright, okay, I’ll play along.” Minseok crossed his arms across his chest. “If we’re really here-really in 1861-tell me how you did it. Tell me how I’m supposed to know you when we’ve never met. Tell me who you are and not just your name. Tell me what the fuck is going on.”
“All in good time. There’s no rush.”
He heaved Minseok back onto his feet.
“It’s a lot to take in, I know. I get it. You want all the answers now and I know you can take it but there’s always another day. Another time.”
Lu Han pulled him closer so their bodies were barely an inch apart. One moment Minseok was staring at his own reflection in Lu Han’s eyes and wondering how long his eyelashes were and the next his feet were flying off the ground as everything went dark and spun around his head like he’d been shoved into a washing machine. Just as nausea became a good friend to his stomach once again, the familiar lines and colours and smell of the bookshop materialised around him. His feet hit solid ground once more. The faint image of Lu Han’s grinning face appeared behind his eyes.
Another day. Another time.
And then he fainted.
Being batted back to consciousness by a whiskered, elderly lady and her husband wasn’t exactly Minseok’s idea of an ideal wake-up call but, nonetheless, that was exactly what happened at 16:16 which was barely a minute after the last time he’d checked. Beaded glasses barely hung onto the woman’s hooked nose as she leaned over his body on the floor and proceeded to poke and prod and manhandle him until he stirred.
“Are you okay kid?” the old man asked, peering over his wife’s shoulder.
“I’m f-fine,” Minseok replied, although he could barely lift himself off the ground.
Just then, another pair of thick-rimmed glasses appeared above him with an outstretched hand.
“’Seok? What are you doing on the floor?”
He graciously accepted Baekhyun’s help with standing and took a wobbly step to hold on to the edge of the counter. A paperback guide to pruning perennials was waved in front of his eyes.
“I want to buy this? I don’t have all day, young man. Some of us are getting old.”
“It’s okay, ma’am, I can do that.”
Baekhyun took the woman’s order while Minseok tried to gain his bearings. The initial disorientation was beginning to wear off and memories from barely moments before began to rush back. A glass of water was pushed into his weak, shaky grasp.
“Drink this. You want me to take you to the hospital?”
“No, no, I’ll be alright. I just…fainted. It’s no big deal.” People faint all the time, right? He mentally kicked himself. “What are you wearing? Is that hemp?”
“Nothing. It’s nothing. Just a t-shirt.” He cleared his throat and wrapped his arms around himself in an attempt to hide his mossy green top complete with a recycling symbol circling a planet printed on the front. What didn’t make matters any better was the ponytailed girl in tie-dye who appeared at the window with what were probably endangered species-free soy ice cream cups held up in her hands.
Baekhyun groaned. “I’ve gotta go, but text me if you feel any worse, okay? And if we’re doing anything tonight?” He edged closer and dropped his voice. “Y’know, I can stay if you-”
“Baekkie!”
She rapped on the glass with her knuckles impatiently.
“I think your girlfriend needs you more than I do right now,” Minseok sniggered.
With a roll of his eyes, a reluctant Baekhyun left and he was finally alone to process everything that had happened to him.
It took all the strength he didn’t know he possessed to not collapse all over again.
“An orangutan probably died in the making of that soda.”
“Shut up, Chan.”
Baekhyun threw the last of his drink down his throat and tossed the can onto the street.
Chanyeol gasped dramatically and grabbed onto Minseok’s arm.
“Did you see that? He littered! He defaced the planet like a thug!”
“Do you want me to slap you?” Baekhyun hissed.
“Don’t touch me! I don’t want you infecting me with your environmental terrorism!”
After at least 20 minutes of teasing, that was the final straw. Baekhyun growled and launched himself at Chanyeol as they walked down the street and it took at least another 15 minutes to make them stop running after each other like idiots in public. Jongdae spent his time productively cheering Baekhyun on and shoving his fist into his mouth to stop himself laughing so hard. Even Kyungsoo cracked a smile. Minseok had too much on his mind to pay any attention to the chaos.
Chanyeol’s long legs meant he could cover ground like a lanky, overgrown gazelle and Baekhyun soon gave up trying to catch him. Panting and irritated, he fell in step with the others.
“I need a stronger drink after that.”
“Until I get paid next week, I’m broke,” sighed Kyungsoo.
Jongdae nodded. “I’m pretty sure I’ve used up my student grant already this semester.”
Baekhyun pointed ahead. “There’s a 7-Eleven just up the road. Soju’s on me.”
Outside the store was a couple of benches and Minseok perched himself down with Chanyeol on one side. The others disappeared inside for snacks and booze and, after biting his lip, he debated opening up about what was playing on his mind.
Chanyeol looked down at him with knitted eyebrows.
“Baekhyun said you fainted at work today. Is everything okay?”
He didn’t quite know how to explain what he wanted to say so for a few moments he continued chewing the inside of his mouth without saying a word. When he finally did speak, it was in a quiet voice.
“This guy came into the shop earlier and…”
Silence.
Chanyeol prodded his side. “And? And what?”
Minseok bent closer. “I think he slipped me some drugs.”
“Drugs?”
“Shh! Yes, drugs! Some pills or something, I don’t know.”
Chanyeol’s mouth hung open. “Are you serious? Did he give you anything to eat? Drink?”
“Well…no, but he did grab my wrist just before everything went funky.” He massaged the space where Lu Han’s tight grip had latched onto his arm.
“Maybe he injected you without you knowing. Are there any needle marks?”
Suddenly his jacket was being pulled off by an eager Chanyeol and his skin investigated for any sign of drug abuse. The sun was down and the wind was cold and everything was already sounding ridiculous in his head without the drama that was now being fabricated as big hands jabbing his wrists, turning them over and back again repeatedly.
When the others returned, laden with carrier bags hanging from their fingers, they didn’t quite know how to respond.
Kyungsoo raised an eyebrow. “Do I dare ask what the hell you two are doing?”
Chanyeol’s head shot up. “Hey, you should ask Baekhyun! He’s the drugs expert out of all of us.”
“Chan, that was one time in our first year, I’m not picking up some of that stuff again for you…” Baekhyun whined, trying to keep his burning cheeks hidden from the passing strangers now staring in his direction.
“I meant because you’re a pharmaceutical science major, you dumbass.”
As Chanyeol lashed out to grab at Baekhyun’s sensitive neck, Minseok held up a hand. “It doesn’t matter. He probably didn’t even exist at all. I must’ve hit my head pretty hard when I passed out.”
He couldn’t hide the disappointment in his voice. He didn’t even try. Only Kyungsoo’s words from the day before rang over and over inside his mind.
You read too much, that’s your problem. Your imagination is running into haywire.
Maybe he was right.
If it wasn’t drugs, he didn’t have any other explanation.
I’m actually going crazy.
He’d been asked a hundred times that day if he was okay and, for the first time, he was started to wonder if he actually was.
It was late and he was tired and from the moment he set off home to the moment he closed his bedroom door behind him, Minseok brain had all but shut down completely from exhaustion. He just about had the energy to set an alarm on his phone and peel the clothes off his body before he fell into bed.
Except a breath caught in his throat and he almost choked.
There was dust all over his trousers.
16:15
He had been waiting the entire day, if not most of the night as well, for the clock to stop at the exact time Lu Han had visited him a day earlier. He’d read enough books and watched enough movies to assume things occurred at the same time they had before but he often had to remind himself that it usually happened in horror movies and the last thing he wanted was to see the strange boy again with a blood-drenched chainsaw in his hands.
Nevertheless, his eyes remained fixed on the door in the expectation that his self-diagnosis of being clinically insane would be disproved and he could breathe a sigh of relief.
Except he didn’t come. Only a handful of students after out-of-date textbook editions even stepped into the shop that afternoon. A box of overly-read 1970s cheesy romance novels donated by the nursing home near his parent’s house glared at him expectantly. The muscled man wearing nothing but a tartan kilt on one of the covers made him feel a little uneasy.
Until a pair of elbows rested on the counter in front of his eyes.
“Do you have any decent Wild West books?”
Minseok jumped out of his chair and almost out of his skin in the process.
“Y-you’re real!”
Lu Han cocked his head to the side. “Of course I’m real. What a silly revelation. It’s like you don’t even trust your own eyes.”
“Do you really blame me?” Minseok asked, clutching his chest. He hadn’t heard the door jingle open.
Lu Han shrugged. “I guess not."
There he was, flesh and blood and eyelashes, with that glossy stare like some mischievous sprite ready to lure him into a fairy ring. That tiny nose and another weird yet wonderful adventure was within an arm’s reach. He could almost feel the burning sun against the back of his neck again and the adrenaline pumping through his veins and then he realised then that he was staring.
He looked down, blushing. “I s-sorry, I just can’t believe you actually exist.”
“You’re especially slow this time.” Lu Han picked up his hands and placed them either side of his face. “Feel that? Does that feel imaginary to you?”
“N-no,” Minseok stumbled, and then a thought clicked. “Hey! I’m not slow!”
“Sure you’re not,” he laughed. He pushed himself off the surface. “So where shall we go this time?”
Gulp. “This time?”
He started walking around the inside of the store, investigating titles on the shelves and picking spines out one by one to hold them up.
“16th century Venice? The masquerade balls were incredible. How about Swinging London? Ever wanted to see the Beatles perform on stage? Or what about 850 AD Scandinavia? Are you prepared to find out whether the Vikings really wore horned helmets? The answer may surprise you…”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I’m always serious when Vikings are involved. They cut off your head otherwise. So, what do you say, Kim Minseok?”
“I-…err…”
For a fleeting second, Lu Han’s face fell and he quickly glanced over his shoulder as though fearing something was lurking and waiting for him outside. When he turned around again, the cloud had passed.
“Quick, pick somewhere! Anywhere!”
Unable to string a coherent thought together under the pressure, Minseok threw his hand out and snatched an old issue of Vogue from the pile of unsorted magazines to his right. He tossed the pages across the counter and Lu Han bobbed his head in recognition. He held out a hand, just like before, and Minseok sent out a silent farewell into the air to the only world he knew.
Tokyo, 1987
“Interesting choice, I’ll give you that.”
“It was the nearest thing I could grab.”
The hair was just as bad as he expected from the ‘80s and the fashion was far worse. Minseok had never seen so many shoulder pads on men or women down a single high street. There were Sega consoles for sale in the shop windows and shiny, new Dragon Ball issues lodged beside copies of Castle in the Sky on VHS. A girl dressed in a lacy tutu with pearls and beads up her arms was blasting Madonna’s Material Girl from a boom box and shooting them suspicious looks as they walked past. Lu Han was leading them as close to the far wall of the street as possible to avoid unwanted attention.
“Where are we going?” Minseok asked, quickening his steps.
“I know somewhere we can change. We don’t exactly look the part. That hair of yours is far too 21st century.”
Something about the way Lu Han’s eyes scanned the path ahead a little too frantically made Minseok wonder what he was keeping from him.
“Wait, what’s wrong? Why are you so jumpy?”
When Lu Han didn’t say anything, he tugged at the elbow of his jacket to make him stop in his tracks.
“If we’re really gonna do this, you have to be honest with me. Starting now.”
“Okay.”
“Promise?”
Pause.
“I promise,” he said, and Minseok believed him. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. But first? Let’s get out of these clothes.”
He was a little too close to Minseok’s body as he said that. It made every inch of his skin shiver.
And not for the last time.
Part III coming soon...
Rating: PG-13 ((for now))
Pairing: XiuHan
Word count: approx. 7,400 (so far)
Summary: Hopeless dreamer Kim Minseok spends his days fantasizing of other times and faraway places while earning next-to-nothing at a downtown used book store. That is, until a strangely familiar face turns his life into something unforgettable like out of the books he holds so dear.
[ PROLOGUE ] [ PART I ]
Part II
Chicago, 1924
If jazz had a smell, it was sweet liquor and cigars.
The night was young but the streets were crowded. Heels higher than a generation before trotted aimlessly over the cobbles while young men boomed with laughter and slipped feather boas over bare shoulders of the beautiful women linked onto their arms. The stage of bright lights and frivolity had once been Lu Han’s playground, for a short while at least. He could still taste the wine and tobacco under his tongue. This visit, however, was not a personal call of that variety.
As soon as the doors to the club swung open, wafts of warm smoke and the sound of a bleating saxophone escaped on the breeze. He was greeted by a stern, suited man with arms like the roots of mountains and, after breathing selective words into his ear, the man stepped aside to let him pass. Inside, the music roared and bodies mingled merrily in the feral air that almost glowed. It was a short, precious time where every soul, regardless of race, gender or even sexuality, could mingle behind the elegant yet shrouded entrances of speakeasies scattered throughout the country. The men wore make-up and women flashed plenty of skin. The forbidden nectar passed casually in tall glasses between hands without a single fear of retribution.
So much for Prohibition.
He swung the jacket from his back and, after hitting the bar, Lu Han took a left and headed to the cluster of leather seats overlooking the dance floor. Through the smoky haze, a certain acquaintance of his lounged happily, swirling a drink in one hand while the other played with the locks of a blonde fawning over his every word. As Lu Han approached, he looked up and beamed with surprise.
“Ah, look who it is! Sit down, sit down, old friend. I’ll order another round.”
Kris, or whatever name was going by in this century, flicked a hand in the air to wave the girl away and motioned to the seat opposite. Lu Han remained standing.
“That won’t be necessary.” He wasn’t planning on staying long, if he could help it. “Where’s Yixing?”
Kris cocked an eyebrow. “Where do you think?”
His eyes flicked to the edge of the dance floor where, just as he expected, Zhang Yixing was canoodling with a pair of excitable, giggling females with beaded dresses that barely skimmed the bottom of their knees. A cigarette hung lazily from the corner of his mouth as a hand cupped at one of the girl’s jaws flirtatiously. Her blush practically lit up the entire venue.
Lu Han couldn’t help but sigh. “He hasn’t changed.”
A snort echoed in the space between them.
“Don’t tell me you’ve gotten boring in your old age. Somebody spent far too much time in the Great Depression, by the looks of it.”
“The ‘30s were awfully depressing,” Lu Han admitted. “Or they will be…or have been…dammit, I’m terrible with tenses.”
Before long, Yixing had looked across and met Lu Han’s gaze, returning it with a passionate, if slightly unsteady, wave of his arm. He shoved his drink into one of his companion’s hands, leapt over the barrier and pulled Lu Han into a jolly embrace.
“Lu Han! You’ve returned to us!”
Unable to keep himself upright once he untangled himself from Lu Han’s grip, Yixing wavered on the spot slightly and fell backwards onto Kris’ seat. He swung his legs around, completely unfazed, and draped them over the sofa’s arm while stealing a gulp of any drink within arm’s reach that he certainly didn’t pay for.
“It’s so nice to see you again, old chap! You’re looking well!” he cried over the music, almost dribbling mixer onto his chin.
“And you’re looking very drunk.”
It didn’t appear to bother him. “How’s your mission going? Have you finally succeeded?”
Kris was practically dangling over the other end of the sofa by this point with the little room he had. “Ah, yes, his glorious adventure to find true love. How could I forget?”
When Lu Han failed to utter a word, Yixing leaned forward to clap him regretfully on the back of the legs.
“Not to worry! There’s plenty of true love in here to go around! Just take your pick!” He swung his arm around dramatically. The girls from the dance floor had crept closer and gathered nearby, shooting sly glances in Yixing’s direction until he noticed them again. Jolly Roll Morton’s “King Porter Stop” began to play from the piano. He just couldn’t help himself.
Sloppily rising from his sprawled position, he swigged the last of the contents in his glass and said, “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, the beating heart inside my chest needs some consolation.”
“More like the beating heart between his legs,” Lu Han muttered as he stumbled away.
Kris sniggered. “You should stay a while! We have so much to catch up on, no doubt!”
“I don’t think so. I’ve seen enough of this era to last me several lifetimes. I’m checking in purely out of civility.”
“Suit yourself.” His thick eyebrows met. “Any news on Zitao’s whereabouts?”
Lu Han shook his head. In truth, he hadn’t caught hide nor hair of Hwang Zitao in the last couple of decades. The last he’d seen of him was the Xinhai revolution in 1911. Where Zitao was at that moment, he had no idea. He could have been anywhere.
“Has he not checked in with you guys?” he enquired.
“Only a couple of times. He’s usually asking about you more than anything else.”
Of course he is, Lu Han thought.
He scoffed. “As always.”
Suddenly the air around them became darker, as though the moon was suddenly hidden behind thick clouds. Despite the merry and musical atmosphere, Kris’ face grew serious as he sipped his glass and Lu Han decided to perch on the opposite seat after all. He bent forward as far as his body would allow as the elder spoke in a deep voice.
“I admire what you’re doing, Lu Han, I do. It’s an commendable feat what you’re trying to achieve. I can’t imagine searching every age for something that may or may not exist. You’ve got the determination, I’ll give you that.” Kris set his drink down onto the dark wooden table between them and linked his long fingers on his knees. “But you know the dangers. You know what’ll happen if you keep this up.”
“It’s a fate destined for all of us,” Lu Han replied automatically.
“But a helluva lot quicker for you if you don’t calm it down. Find an era, any era in any century, and settle. Give yourself a rest before-”
Lu Han shook his head. He hadn’t travelled through time and over continents to hear another lecture. They’d tried before and no doubt they’d try again until their lungs caved in but nothing Kris or Yixing or certainly even Zitao could say was going to change his mind. He rose to his feet.
“If I stop now…” he said, slipping his arms into his suit jacket. “What was the point of it all?”
Somewhere in eastern California, 1861
The words clung to the back of his throat like sand on a wet shore, making it almost impossible to speak.
“1861…”
There it was, printed as clear as day in black and bold typography. No matter how many times Minseok blinked or rubbed his eyes to check if he was hallucinating, those numbers didn’t disappear. He couldn’t bring himself to pick the old newspaper up so, instead, he shakily moved his foot across until the wind caught its edges and set it free.
Before any other words could escape his lips, Minseok froze to the sound of low, rumbling thunder that vibrated through the ground.
“What’s that sound?”
Lu Han’s head darted around, ears pricked. His eyes widened.
“What is it? Lu Han? What’s going on?”
“Horses,” he mouthed and Minseok’s chest tightened. “We’ve gotta move!”
Lu Han grabbed a tight hold of his wrist again and pulled him along while they ran. They headed straight for the ghost town and its empty, wooden bones of desolate buildings and crumbling shacks. They swung into the nearest abandoned store and crouched low behind the door just in time for the thundering of hooves to catch up with their steps on the road outside. Keeping as close to the ground as possible, Minseok shuffled along behind Lu Han until they reached the window and peered out apprehensively through the gaps in the broken glass. He could hear his heart rattling in his ribcage.
“Bandits? Are those actual bandits?”
Lu Han didn’t reply but his lips twitched at the corners with amusement.
It was like something out of a movie. Dark skinned, rugged men in loose shirts had galloped into the town like a pack of hungry wolves. On their heads sat wide hats and fringed slacks hugged their thick thighs and, even from such a distance, Minseok could make out the shining sweat on their temples and scars littering the flashes of bronze skin. They were crying out and yelling at each other in a language Minseok didn’t recognise.
He leaned close to Lu Han’s ear. “If this is a reality show, then you’ve done a pretty g-”
A finger flew to his lips, holding them still.
“This isn’t a reality show,” Lu Han breathed. “This is real life and if you don’t stop talking, they’ll put a bullet in your skull. Understand?”
Minseok swallowed hard and nodded.
The men had gathered in the square, some swinging their horses around violently in a circle while others met in the centre with their heads bent low. The veil of pale dirt kicked up from the horses’ hooves made it difficult to make them out but the occasional glint of their pistols in the bright sunlight was enough to make Minseok’s heart stammer even more painfully in his chest. They didn’t stick around long, although it felt like an age, and soon they’d disappeared in a billowing cloud of dust and galloped off into the distance.
After a minute or so of waiting with only their harsh breaths to fill the silence, Lu Han and Minseok stepped back outside cautiously. The dust was beginning to settle and everything was quiet.
“W-who the hell were they?” Minseok managed to croak.
“Mexican outlaws is my guess. There’s probably a hoard of rangers being paid a buck load from the government to track them down and bring back their heads.” Lu Han turned with a wide smile. “Exciting, huh?”
Exciting, he says…
“I’m just gonna…sit down…for a while…”
Unable to keep his legs upright any longer, Minseok plonked himself down onto the dusty earth and lifted up his knees to stick his head between them.
“I’m dreaming,” he began to mutter. “This is all just a very vivid, very strange dream and any minute now I’m going to wake up in my bed in 2013 and-”
“You’re not dreaming,” said Lu Han with a chuckle, grabbing his hair and pulling his head back again.
Minseok swatted his hand away. “I can’t be in 1860s America right now. It’s not even possible.”
“California, to be exact,” he replied in a cheery tone.
Minseok huffed. This boy was impossible.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
He was definitely laughing now. “I’m enjoying you. You’re always so…entertaining.”
There he goes again…
“Alright, okay, I’ll play along.” Minseok crossed his arms across his chest. “If we’re really here-really in 1861-tell me how you did it. Tell me how I’m supposed to know you when we’ve never met. Tell me who you are and not just your name. Tell me what the fuck is going on.”
“All in good time. There’s no rush.”
He heaved Minseok back onto his feet.
“It’s a lot to take in, I know. I get it. You want all the answers now and I know you can take it but there’s always another day. Another time.”
Lu Han pulled him closer so their bodies were barely an inch apart. One moment Minseok was staring at his own reflection in Lu Han’s eyes and wondering how long his eyelashes were and the next his feet were flying off the ground as everything went dark and spun around his head like he’d been shoved into a washing machine. Just as nausea became a good friend to his stomach once again, the familiar lines and colours and smell of the bookshop materialised around him. His feet hit solid ground once more. The faint image of Lu Han’s grinning face appeared behind his eyes.
Another day. Another time.
And then he fainted.
Being batted back to consciousness by a whiskered, elderly lady and her husband wasn’t exactly Minseok’s idea of an ideal wake-up call but, nonetheless, that was exactly what happened at 16:16 which was barely a minute after the last time he’d checked. Beaded glasses barely hung onto the woman’s hooked nose as she leaned over his body on the floor and proceeded to poke and prod and manhandle him until he stirred.
“Are you okay kid?” the old man asked, peering over his wife’s shoulder.
“I’m f-fine,” Minseok replied, although he could barely lift himself off the ground.
Just then, another pair of thick-rimmed glasses appeared above him with an outstretched hand.
“’Seok? What are you doing on the floor?”
He graciously accepted Baekhyun’s help with standing and took a wobbly step to hold on to the edge of the counter. A paperback guide to pruning perennials was waved in front of his eyes.
“I want to buy this? I don’t have all day, young man. Some of us are getting old.”
“It’s okay, ma’am, I can do that.”
Baekhyun took the woman’s order while Minseok tried to gain his bearings. The initial disorientation was beginning to wear off and memories from barely moments before began to rush back. A glass of water was pushed into his weak, shaky grasp.
“Drink this. You want me to take you to the hospital?”
“No, no, I’ll be alright. I just…fainted. It’s no big deal.” People faint all the time, right? He mentally kicked himself. “What are you wearing? Is that hemp?”
“Nothing. It’s nothing. Just a t-shirt.” He cleared his throat and wrapped his arms around himself in an attempt to hide his mossy green top complete with a recycling symbol circling a planet printed on the front. What didn’t make matters any better was the ponytailed girl in tie-dye who appeared at the window with what were probably endangered species-free soy ice cream cups held up in her hands.
Baekhyun groaned. “I’ve gotta go, but text me if you feel any worse, okay? And if we’re doing anything tonight?” He edged closer and dropped his voice. “Y’know, I can stay if you-”
“Baekkie!”
She rapped on the glass with her knuckles impatiently.
“I think your girlfriend needs you more than I do right now,” Minseok sniggered.
With a roll of his eyes, a reluctant Baekhyun left and he was finally alone to process everything that had happened to him.
It took all the strength he didn’t know he possessed to not collapse all over again.
“An orangutan probably died in the making of that soda.”
“Shut up, Chan.”
Baekhyun threw the last of his drink down his throat and tossed the can onto the street.
Chanyeol gasped dramatically and grabbed onto Minseok’s arm.
“Did you see that? He littered! He defaced the planet like a thug!”
“Do you want me to slap you?” Baekhyun hissed.
“Don’t touch me! I don’t want you infecting me with your environmental terrorism!”
After at least 20 minutes of teasing, that was the final straw. Baekhyun growled and launched himself at Chanyeol as they walked down the street and it took at least another 15 minutes to make them stop running after each other like idiots in public. Jongdae spent his time productively cheering Baekhyun on and shoving his fist into his mouth to stop himself laughing so hard. Even Kyungsoo cracked a smile. Minseok had too much on his mind to pay any attention to the chaos.
Chanyeol’s long legs meant he could cover ground like a lanky, overgrown gazelle and Baekhyun soon gave up trying to catch him. Panting and irritated, he fell in step with the others.
“I need a stronger drink after that.”
“Until I get paid next week, I’m broke,” sighed Kyungsoo.
Jongdae nodded. “I’m pretty sure I’ve used up my student grant already this semester.”
Baekhyun pointed ahead. “There’s a 7-Eleven just up the road. Soju’s on me.”
Outside the store was a couple of benches and Minseok perched himself down with Chanyeol on one side. The others disappeared inside for snacks and booze and, after biting his lip, he debated opening up about what was playing on his mind.
Chanyeol looked down at him with knitted eyebrows.
“Baekhyun said you fainted at work today. Is everything okay?”
He didn’t quite know how to explain what he wanted to say so for a few moments he continued chewing the inside of his mouth without saying a word. When he finally did speak, it was in a quiet voice.
“This guy came into the shop earlier and…”
Silence.
Chanyeol prodded his side. “And? And what?”
Minseok bent closer. “I think he slipped me some drugs.”
“Drugs?”
“Shh! Yes, drugs! Some pills or something, I don’t know.”
Chanyeol’s mouth hung open. “Are you serious? Did he give you anything to eat? Drink?”
“Well…no, but he did grab my wrist just before everything went funky.” He massaged the space where Lu Han’s tight grip had latched onto his arm.
“Maybe he injected you without you knowing. Are there any needle marks?”
Suddenly his jacket was being pulled off by an eager Chanyeol and his skin investigated for any sign of drug abuse. The sun was down and the wind was cold and everything was already sounding ridiculous in his head without the drama that was now being fabricated as big hands jabbing his wrists, turning them over and back again repeatedly.
When the others returned, laden with carrier bags hanging from their fingers, they didn’t quite know how to respond.
Kyungsoo raised an eyebrow. “Do I dare ask what the hell you two are doing?”
Chanyeol’s head shot up. “Hey, you should ask Baekhyun! He’s the drugs expert out of all of us.”
“Chan, that was one time in our first year, I’m not picking up some of that stuff again for you…” Baekhyun whined, trying to keep his burning cheeks hidden from the passing strangers now staring in his direction.
“I meant because you’re a pharmaceutical science major, you dumbass.”
As Chanyeol lashed out to grab at Baekhyun’s sensitive neck, Minseok held up a hand. “It doesn’t matter. He probably didn’t even exist at all. I must’ve hit my head pretty hard when I passed out.”
He couldn’t hide the disappointment in his voice. He didn’t even try. Only Kyungsoo’s words from the day before rang over and over inside his mind.
You read too much, that’s your problem. Your imagination is running into haywire.
Maybe he was right.
If it wasn’t drugs, he didn’t have any other explanation.
I’m actually going crazy.
He’d been asked a hundred times that day if he was okay and, for the first time, he was started to wonder if he actually was.
It was late and he was tired and from the moment he set off home to the moment he closed his bedroom door behind him, Minseok brain had all but shut down completely from exhaustion. He just about had the energy to set an alarm on his phone and peel the clothes off his body before he fell into bed.
Except a breath caught in his throat and he almost choked.
There was dust all over his trousers.
16:15
He had been waiting the entire day, if not most of the night as well, for the clock to stop at the exact time Lu Han had visited him a day earlier. He’d read enough books and watched enough movies to assume things occurred at the same time they had before but he often had to remind himself that it usually happened in horror movies and the last thing he wanted was to see the strange boy again with a blood-drenched chainsaw in his hands.
Nevertheless, his eyes remained fixed on the door in the expectation that his self-diagnosis of being clinically insane would be disproved and he could breathe a sigh of relief.
Except he didn’t come. Only a handful of students after out-of-date textbook editions even stepped into the shop that afternoon. A box of overly-read 1970s cheesy romance novels donated by the nursing home near his parent’s house glared at him expectantly. The muscled man wearing nothing but a tartan kilt on one of the covers made him feel a little uneasy.
Until a pair of elbows rested on the counter in front of his eyes.
“Do you have any decent Wild West books?”
Minseok jumped out of his chair and almost out of his skin in the process.
“Y-you’re real!”
Lu Han cocked his head to the side. “Of course I’m real. What a silly revelation. It’s like you don’t even trust your own eyes.”
“Do you really blame me?” Minseok asked, clutching his chest. He hadn’t heard the door jingle open.
Lu Han shrugged. “I guess not."
There he was, flesh and blood and eyelashes, with that glossy stare like some mischievous sprite ready to lure him into a fairy ring. That tiny nose and another weird yet wonderful adventure was within an arm’s reach. He could almost feel the burning sun against the back of his neck again and the adrenaline pumping through his veins and then he realised then that he was staring.
He looked down, blushing. “I s-sorry, I just can’t believe you actually exist.”
“You’re especially slow this time.” Lu Han picked up his hands and placed them either side of his face. “Feel that? Does that feel imaginary to you?”
“N-no,” Minseok stumbled, and then a thought clicked. “Hey! I’m not slow!”
“Sure you’re not,” he laughed. He pushed himself off the surface. “So where shall we go this time?”
Gulp. “This time?”
He started walking around the inside of the store, investigating titles on the shelves and picking spines out one by one to hold them up.
“16th century Venice? The masquerade balls were incredible. How about Swinging London? Ever wanted to see the Beatles perform on stage? Or what about 850 AD Scandinavia? Are you prepared to find out whether the Vikings really wore horned helmets? The answer may surprise you…”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I’m always serious when Vikings are involved. They cut off your head otherwise. So, what do you say, Kim Minseok?”
“I-…err…”
For a fleeting second, Lu Han’s face fell and he quickly glanced over his shoulder as though fearing something was lurking and waiting for him outside. When he turned around again, the cloud had passed.
“Quick, pick somewhere! Anywhere!”
Unable to string a coherent thought together under the pressure, Minseok threw his hand out and snatched an old issue of Vogue from the pile of unsorted magazines to his right. He tossed the pages across the counter and Lu Han bobbed his head in recognition. He held out a hand, just like before, and Minseok sent out a silent farewell into the air to the only world he knew.
Tokyo, 1987
“Interesting choice, I’ll give you that.”
“It was the nearest thing I could grab.”
The hair was just as bad as he expected from the ‘80s and the fashion was far worse. Minseok had never seen so many shoulder pads on men or women down a single high street. There were Sega consoles for sale in the shop windows and shiny, new Dragon Ball issues lodged beside copies of Castle in the Sky on VHS. A girl dressed in a lacy tutu with pearls and beads up her arms was blasting Madonna’s Material Girl from a boom box and shooting them suspicious looks as they walked past. Lu Han was leading them as close to the far wall of the street as possible to avoid unwanted attention.
“Where are we going?” Minseok asked, quickening his steps.
“I know somewhere we can change. We don’t exactly look the part. That hair of yours is far too 21st century.”
Something about the way Lu Han’s eyes scanned the path ahead a little too frantically made Minseok wonder what he was keeping from him.
“Wait, what’s wrong? Why are you so jumpy?”
When Lu Han didn’t say anything, he tugged at the elbow of his jacket to make him stop in his tracks.
“If we’re really gonna do this, you have to be honest with me. Starting now.”
“Okay.”
“Promise?”
Pause.
“I promise,” he said, and Minseok believed him. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. But first? Let’s get out of these clothes.”
He was a little too close to Minseok’s body as he said that. It made every inch of his skin shiver.
And not for the last time.
Part III coming soon...