9:19 PM
Title: 9:19 PM
Rating: G
Pairing: (minor) Homin
Genre: AU; Horror
Summary: A ghost story. Changmin doesn't remember falling asleep. Changmin doesn't remember anything that happened after 9:19 PM.
One of the worst feelings in the world is waking up with no idea of what time it is. Changmin believes this wholeheartedly.
He sits up slowly, savoring the uncomfortable feeling for a moment. Everything is still and quiet and warm, daylight sifting through the blinds and settling over everything like a shining blanket. Changmin grabs his cellphone off the endtable, falling back onto the couch pillow as he checks it. He groans.
The phone seems to be broken or out-of-service. The digital display shows 9:19 PM. Changmin tries to correct it, but it’s stuck at that time. He makes a note to fix that later, hoping it doesn’t require a trip to the store. The little message notifier blinks at him, telling him he has several texts and a few voicemails. Changmin raises an eyebrow. He’s popular today.
The texts are all from his friends, and he scrolls through them briskly.
Kyu (9:28):
yah, shim chwang, u coming? taking forever...
DongHae (9:31):
Kyu went crazy, u missed it!
Kyu (9:35):
are u okay :? its way past 9
Sungmin (9:50):
where are you? were getting worried
Changmin frowns at his phone. What happened last night? He remembered getting ready for the big get-together, but at some point, it got fuzzy...or drunk. He doesn’t even remember the beginning of the party, though. Judging from his sore neck, he’s been passed out on the couch for a while. He hopes he didn’t do something stupid, like overdo his pre-game and miss the entire party.
When he scrolls through the missed calls, most of them are from the guys. There’s one from his mom. Not good. He groans, dropping the phone onto the couch and stretching. He’ll deal with whatever terrible thing he did last night later on. For now...he’s stupidly hungry.
He makes his way to the kitchen, grabbing the last banana out of the bowl on the way to the fridge. Nothing looks good to him, despite his hunger. Changmin sighs and leans against the counter, chewing the banana tiredly. It’s tasteless. He stills when he notices the oven clock, stuck at 9:19 PM.
That’s...bizarre.
He swallows the last bite and walks over to the computer to turn it on. As it boots up, he heads into the kitchen to throw the banana peel away. He stops when he notices another banana, sitting alone in the bowl.
Changmin could have sworn there was only one left when he grabbed it.
The computer startup chime floats in from the living room, and he walks a little more quickly to check the clock. He taps his fingers as the desktop loads.
9:19 PM.
“What in the world...” Changmin breathes out, furrowing his eyebrows. There is definitely sunshine streaming through the blinds. He tries to stay calm, but can’t help rushing to his room and grabbing his phone.
It’s still stuck at 9:19 PM. He dials voicemail and listens.
“First message- Changmin, you suck! Hurry up!”
Kyuhyun’s petulant (and drunk) whine.
“Second message- Hi, Changmin, it’s Sungmin...just wondering where you aaree...call us!”
“Third message- Changminnie, it’s your mom. Your friends called and said they can’t get a hold of you since last night...”
Changmin immediately hits the call button and waits through the rings. He doesn’t remember anything about the party last night, and it’s becoming apparent that he never showed up. After ten rings, he gives up. He runs his hand through his hair, and gets up to get dressed.
As he opens the front door, he throws a withering glance at the oven clock.
9:19 PM, just like he thought.
A heartbeat, rapid and stomach-turning.
Legs give out and there’s just a cloudy pain in his head. Can’t seem to catch his breath- the comb falls out of his hands, which can’t seem to stay still.
Can’t think. Displaced.
Changmin bursts through his front door, stumbling on the hardwood floor. He suddenly feels like he’s been breathless, suddenly feels like a lot of things, compared to the sensation of a terrifying nothing he felt up until a split second ago. There was no him, no physical Changmin, and it felt like the world was missing. He curls up and shudders through a delayed panic response.
The door is no different than usual. He runs his fingers along the grain, and runs his eyes along the edges, half-expecting the nothing from outside will start seeping through like a nightmare. He can’t remember anything that just happened, didn’t feel the experience of anything. Outside the door was a blank in his mind he can’t even begin to comprehend.
The time that passed is a mystery, or the hours-
the hours
He fumbles with his phone and yanks it out of his pocket, checking the display.
9:19 PM.
Changmin stares at it. There was no way he had stepped out and then back in. He doesn’t recall time passing, but he knows it did pass. Dialling his family’s number again, he slumps against the wall. It rings just like before, until he shakily presses ‘call end’. He tries again, with Kyuhyun. The rings are up to fifteen before he lowers the phone. A sense of dread starts to creep down his face, chilling him in a sheet of ice.
In the space of two minutes he’s sent out eight borderline hysterical texts that all end up with a little red ‘x’ next to them. Delivery failed.
“Alright, there is an explanation, this is just- not making sense-” Changmin tries to reason, laughing humorlessly.
His phone suddenly vibrates and he hurries to look at it. It takes him a second to realize it’s a text from an unlisted number.
XXXXXXXXXXX (1:24 AM):
call for help
Changmin stares in confusion before texting back rapidly. He doesn’t care that he’s texting a stranger, he’s just relieved that this is still the real world- texts mean he can pretend not to know something’s wrong.
‘Who are you? are you okay?’ he taps out, hitting send.
He doesn’t have to wait long for a reply.
XXXXXXXXXXX (1:24 AM):
alley by dance studio. 828. next to the river park
Choikang (9:19 PM)
I’ll try the hospital. What’s your name?
119 doesn’t work, as expected. Changmin sees that the stranger texted back.
XXXXXXXXXXX (1:24 AM):
Yunho
Changmin feels an urgency rise in him- he texts Yunho that he’s coming, hold on, and eats five of the same banana as he eyes the front door. If he’s going to go out there, he needs the strength. His sense of self withstood the flood of oblivion last time, and he thinks he can do it again if he focuses everything on staying present.
When he’s ready, he pauses at the front door. He looks back at his apartment with the thought that there might be something he needs, but all he sees is an empty room. The oven clock numbers blare at him through the gloom, still trapped in 9:19.
He opens the door and steps outside.
It takes an incredible amount of teeth-gritting to stay conscious, but it’s the very act that anchors Changmin. He focuses on the pressure of his teeth against each other, and finally manages to open his eyes.
This is not his street.
Or at least not the street he knows. Everything is the same as before, so it’s not that it’s the wrong place-
But everything about it isn’t right. It’s cold, for one, a weird and clammy chill in the air, and the street itself seems to fade out at the edges. It’s not fog, not really, it’s more like the place he’s in can’t support more than a few hundred feet of reality. Changmin takes a tentative step away from his door, then slowly makes his way toward the street.
He looks back at the building when he’s ventured to the street sign, and sure enough, it seems to be quietly disappearing. Changmin stares at it, memorizing the feel of it in case he needs to return, before continuing down the street. He thinks he can find Yunho, as long as the city hasn’t changed otherwise. The number Yunho sent is probably a street number, and there’s a river park nearby that Changmin hopes is the right one. That’s the direction he takes.
The neighborhood is still and silent, the odd dullness settling over things as he passes by them. It’s sort of like a flashlight, except more off-putting. He’s just reached a restaurant he likes, although it’s now empty and dark, when he notices the ‘fog’ backing away a little bit.
“Hi,” a voice suddenly declares, scaring the crap out of him. He jumps, and whirls around to find a young man with black hair and dark eyes standing nearly on top of him.
Changmin tries to catch his breath.
“H-hi..it’s nice to meet you? I was starting to think everyone had disappeared,” he
says, then hesitates. He’s not sure if he should ask the guy what’s going on- he doesn’t seem to notice the incredibly weird glitch the city’s stuck in, more interested in checking out Changmin’s outfit.
The guy looks back up at Changmin’s face, until a smile slowly spreads across his own. It doesn’t reach his eyes, though, so the effect is more unsettling than anything.
“You don’t know yet,” the guy states, a tinge of curiosity in his tone.
Changmin eyes him suspiciously.
“Excuse me?”
He avoids thinking about what the guy could be implying. Changmin refuses to justify any part of the current situation.
“I’m Jaejoong,” the guy says, sticking a hand out to Changmin.
“Changmin.”
They shake hands. Jaejoong shakes for a moment too long, dull brown eyes burning into Changmin.
“So, what brings you here?” Jaejoong asks, finally letting go and leaning against a
guardrail in front of the restaurant. Changmin fidgets with the phone in his pocket.
“I got a text,” he explains. “Somebody’s in trouble, but I can’t call 119.”
Jaejoong raises his eyebrows.
“You don’t say.” He appears to consider something, eyebrows drawing together. “You got a …’text’?”
Changmin nods. Jaejoong is just staring at him expectantly, like he wants to see it. Changmin pulls his phone out to show him, but Jaejoong immediately snatches it away and examines it.
“Oh, I see. I’ve seen this before. People come through with these, sometimes- really amazing, how technology has advanced, huh?”
Jaejoong isn’t even looking at the text. He seems genuinely intrigued by the phone itself. Changmin hopes that he’s just a country bumpkin or something. He refuses to listen to the tiny voice in the back of his mind that is rapidly connecting dots, from the absence of people to Jaejoong’s clothing ripped straight from the 80’s.
He grabs the phone from Jaejoong, who has been intently staring at the screen for way too long.
“I really need to...go,” he offers, shrugging apologetically. “You’re welcome to come with me, I guess. I’m not sure what’s happened. It might be messy.”
“No doubt,” Jaejoong says. “Sorry but...I’m kind of stuck here for now. Not that I couldn’t leave if I wanted to, just...I got in an accident here, a while back. It helps me think.”
Changmin ducks his head, looking at his feet.
“I’m sorry about that, was it bad?” He can’t bring himself to look up at Jaejoong again, because a drop of blood has dripped onto the sidewalk between their feet.
“Drunk driver,” Jaejoong says airily.
“Those are the worst,” Changmin says, words shaky and careful. One drop of blood is followed by several, until it’s splattering more than dripping.
“I was the drunk driver,” Jaejoong says, and Changmin looks up to see a bitter smile seep across his face in bloody streaks. He begins to back away, unable to tear his eyes away.
“Come by later, Changmin. After you find your friend. It’d be nice to hang out when you’re not in a rush.”
Changmin can only nod, then turns and rushes away, mentally chanting every prayer he’s ever offered for a dead relative. He can hear Jaejoong muttering to himself as he turns the corner.
“'Texts'...how amazing...!”
Changmin uses Yunho as an anchor, his purpose. It keeps him going, keeps him from thinking about what he just saw, what’s going on, or what it means.
He pulls his phone out and sends a quick text to Yunho.
Choikang (9:19 PM):
I’m on my way...doing ok?
Yunho (1:24 AM):
waiting
It spurs him to move faster. He’s got a bit of a walk ahead of him from what he can tell, but he doesn’t make it far when that strange interference with the very air around him happens again.
Now that he’s on edge, it doesn’t take long to find the source. Another guy with a dark fluff of hair around his head sits on a balcony right above the street, blowing smoke from a cigarette into the air. He takes a second to notice Changmin, then rolls his neck lazily, smiling.
“It’s rude to stare,” he says, but his tone is laidback and friendly. He stands up and climbs onto the railing easily, and suddenly steps off of it. Changmin gets a sudden sense of dread, but the guy sticks his landing right in front of him with no trouble. Changmin tries to calm his heart down from where it’s trying to drill a hole in his chest.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to- today has been...strange,” Changmin says.
Understatement of the year.
“Hm, I’ll bet. ...what do they call you, Mr. Strange?” Yoochun sidles around him.
Changmin wonders if maybe he’s finally found a normal person.
“My name is Changmin,” he says hesitantly, finding it hard to relax when Yoochun’s behind him.
“Uh huh. Well, my name’s Yoochun, but you can call me whatever you want,” Yoochun says with a smile in his tone, lurking around Changmin’s shoulder.
“You seem to be in a hurry. What’s up?” Yoochun has a deep, soothing voice...it makes Changmin lower his guard when his logical side tells him he should probably be doing the opposite of that.
“I’m trying to find someone,” he begins. Yoochun laughs a little, but there’s not much sincerity behind it.
“Aren’t we all?” The smoke drifts around Changmin, and he fights the urge to cough.
“He’s hurt. I really just...need to find him, get help-”
Yoochun heaves a large sigh.
“I’m pretty sure it’s too late for him,” he says, sounding a little annoyed. “Just give it up. You’re here now, not much you can do about it.”
Changmin digs his phone out, getting annoyed himself, and holds it up so Yoochun can see the text. Yoochun’s eyes get big.
“I just texted him. He might be alright. I need to-”
“How did you get this to work?” Yoochun asks quietly, before his face crumples in anger.
“How did you get this message?!” Changmin backs away when Yoochun grabs his arm. “Why does yours work!?”
Yoochun pulls something out of his pocket, and throws it on the ground. Changmin sees that it’s an old cellphone. Scratches and chips cover the case.
Yoochun is screaming now, an inhuman force of nature dark and deafening that drags him in, but Changmin finally wrenches his arm from the vice grip and runs. There’s a sudden dead silence, and he looks back over his shoulder to see Yoochun back on the balcony like he never left, leaning over the railing and lazily taking a drag of his cigarette. He slants a sly look at Changmin, and smoke shoots from his lips in a stream.
Changmin doesn’t stop running until he’s out of sight.
He slows down near the park to catch his breath, looking for a street number so he could see where he needed to go.
It seems like he’s on the wrong side of a grassy divider, but he’s close. He steps over a little chain face, and climbs up the hill. The river is visible from the top, and he follows the divider as the numbers count to 828. He starts to feel a strange pulse in the air- is it Yunho? It seems like he’s finding everyone but. He stops short when he comes across a man perched on the fence chain. The man looks up, eyes wary.
“Who are you?” he asks, giving Changmin a onceover. He sounds a little curious, but mostly irritated, like Changmin’s presence is unexpected. Which, to be fair, it probably is.
“I’m Changmin. I’m looking for a man named Yunho,” Changmin says. He doesn’t feel like beating around the bush anymore, or saying something that might cause the other to go into a murderous rage. He needs to get to Yunho.
“I don’t remember my name,” the guy says, jumping off the chain. Instead of landing on his feet, he floats into the air. Now Changmin can see he’s a dark blur of color, like an inkstain. Only his face comes into any sort of focus. “You can call me Xiah, though. Or Yunho, if you want.”
“Xiah is a nice name,” Changmin says cautiously, eyeing Xiah as he swims around Changmin.
“Changmin is a nice name too. I like that...maybe my name was Changmin.” Xiah drifts down to run his fingers along Changmin’s hair and shoulder in a feathery caress.
“I’ve been here a long, long time,” Xiah says lowly. “It’s easy to forget things. I don’t think anyone else remembers them either, so it’s okay.” He smiles widely.
Changmin suddenly feels unsafe.
“I...I need to go.”
Xiah’s smile fades a little, and his face seems to blur a tiny bit. Changmin wonders if it’s just a trick of the light.
“Why? You just got here.”
“I need to find my friend,” Changmin says, starting to move past Xiah and give him a wide berth. Xiah turns as he watches him.
“He’s not your friend. He’s just a man. That’s what you said. He’s not there, and you won’t find him. That’s not how this works. You should just stay with me. It gets lonely here, you’ll fade away. I’ll keep you safe.” Xiah’s almost pleading now, cajoling Changmin gently.
Changmin keeps walking, but suddenly trips on something. He looks down, and sees a broken chunk of rock sticking out of the ground, almost invisible under moss and erosion. He glances at Xiah, who is looking at him intently.
“I won’t let you be forgotten. I’ll remember you,” Xiah says.
It sounds too tempting. The air feels heavy and Changmin’s almost sleepy- he feels something like he’s slipping away from himself again, but it’s different- more like dissipation than disappearance. Cold fingers barely brush his jaw. He steps back and falls on his butt.
Xiah suddenly starts to laugh, snapping him out of his daze. Changmin pushes himself off and takes it as his cue to get the fuck out of there. He begins stomping towards the bushes towards the street. Xiah’s laughter rings out even as he hurries away, and it just gets louder and louder.
He needs Yunho.
His phone vibrates as he hops the little chain fence, and he pulls it out to see what it says.
Yunho (1:24 AM):
don't come.
Choikang (9:19 PM)
what?
Yunho (1:24 AM):
there's nothing here.
Changmin frowns. He’s not sure what to make of Yunho’s sudden 180, but fuck if he’s going to turn around and stumble back to the apartment now.
The street numbers go in order, thankfully, and he just keeps jogging towards 828, hoping to everything he’s ever believed in that he’ll find Yunho, okay and alive. It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t have any idea what he’s like, what he looks like, his age, who he is, if he’s even a guy really.
The concept of Yunho has kept him in the here and now, it’s fuelled him through the miasma with all of its crying souls, ghosts, and wanderers, kept him from straying. He’s seen what happens to people here, confused and lost, clinging to the only pieces of them that don’t wash away. Changmin isn’t going to let Yunho give up.
Changmin is no longer sure if he’s alive, but at least he knows he’s not lost.
The dance studio is easy to miss, and he almost does, except for the pulse in the air and hints of static blurring his vision. He skids to a stop next to the entrance of an alley, and a sign above tells him he’s next to ‘VV Choreography Studio’. The alley is dark, but he steps forward without hesitance.
Yunho is definitely not okay- at least that’s what the amount of blood on the ground suggests. However, Yunho himself is slumped against the wall, elbows on his knees as his head rests against them. From what Changmin can see of him, Yunho is an average guy- dark hair cropped short and sweatpants over sneakers.
Changmin finds it’s hard to get a word out, much less move.
“Y-Yunho...?"
Yunho stirs slightly, head raising to glance impassively at Changmin over his arm.The apathy doesn’t suit his strong features. He lets out a little huff, like a laugh that didn’t make it.
“You’re the person who got my text, are you?” Yunho asks. Changmin just nods, not budging from the alley entrance.
“Well, I guess I should apologize. Obviously, I didn’t realize...” Yunho ducks his head. His voice sounds thick and bitter. “It was already too late.”
Changmin steps closer.
“It’s not. I found you, you texted me, they said that wasn’t supposed to happen here...” he says clumsily. It’s much too close to admitting that everything is sinking in.
“I’m dead, and so are you,” Yunho states. “There’s blood everywhere, isn’t it...isn’t it obvious?” Yunho stands up as he speaks, and Changmin sees that blood seeps through his shirt in a thick slash, pouring down his body and slicking his clothes.
Changmin just watches it pool on the ground all over again. He works his jaw once, then licks his lips.
“I tried to come sooner, if I had you’d be...okay. But I’m here now, we can leave, and get back to-”
Yunho gets up in his face in two quick strides and pushes him into the alley wall.
“We. Are. Dead. This is hell, or whatever. I was already ‘not okay’, I was robbed and killed, I can see the knife right there on the ground, I can see it happening again,” Yunho says angrily, his face only inches from Changmin’s. Maybe he sees how taken aback Changmin is, because he takes a breath and seems to calm himself down, before looking back into Changmin’s eyes. Changmin can see the regret and anger and confusion there, shiny and wet.
“I don’t even know your name, and you want to ‘save me’. Who are you?” Yunho asks, voice a strained whisper.
Changmin swallows. He can feel his own eyes get damp, and he knows that Yunho’s telling the truth. They aren’t alive anymore, and there’s no way back to where they’ve come from.
“I’m...my name is Changmin. I don’t know how I died. I woke up on my couch, and couldn’t talk to anyone. But...I got your text. I thought that maybe-”
It’s embarrassing how quickly he crosses the line from choked up to crying, and he pushes Yunho away from him. He covers his face with his hands, and he hates the sobs that escape. It feels like he’s melting into the air.
“I’m not supposed to be dead, I’m supposed to be at a party, or hungover or some shit...why am I dead?!”
Arms are suddenly holding him tight, and he can’t find it in him anymore to push Yunho away. The strength he placed into the idea of Yunho has all leaked away now, now that he’s found it’s just some guy bleeding out in an alleyway, just as unaware as himself.
“Oh God, Shh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Yunho whispers, breath hot on his neck. “I didn’t mean- it’s okay, you must have come a long way, I’m glad you came-”
Changmin can’t even focus on anything but Yunho now, Yunho's tears, Yunho’s arms around him, and Yunho’s voice, murmuring reassurances in his ears.
It’s comforting, and it melds into a soothing hum as Changmin drifts away.
A heartbeat, rapid and stomach-turning.
Legs give out and there’s just a cloudy pain in his head. Can’t seem to catch his breath- the comb falls out of his hands, which can’t seem to stay still.
Can’t think. Displaced.
One of the worst feelings in the world is waking up with no idea of what time it is. Changmin believes this wholeheartedly.
He sits up slowly, savoring the uncomfortable feeling for a moment. Everything is still and quiet and warm, daylight sifting through the blinds and settling over everything like a shining blanket. Changmin grabs his cellphone off the endtable, falling back onto the couch pillow as he checks it. He groans.
The phone seems to be broken or out-of-service. The digital display shows 9:19 PM. Changmin tries to correct it, but it’s stuck at that time. He makes a note to fix that later, hoping it doesn’t require a trip to the store. The little message notifier blinks at him, telling him he has several texts and a few voicemails. Changmin raises an eyebrow. He’s popular today.
The texts are all from his friends, and he scrolls through them briskly.
Kyu (9:28):
yah, shim chwang, u coming? taking forever...
DongHae (9:31):
Kyu went crazy, u missed it!
Kyu (9:35):
are u okay :? its way past 9
Sungmin (9:50):
where are you? were getting worried
There’s one text from a number he doesn’t recognize, though, and he sits up, staring at the words on the screen.
XXXXXXXXXXX (1:24 AM):
call for help
Choikang (9:19 PM)
Who are you? Are you okay?
Attempt at a 'everyone's dead' story! Everyone here is a ghost, in case it wasn't clear. Changmin's died in a carbon monoxide leak, and 9:19 PM is the time of death. He's stuck in a loop of that moment.
(Yunho was stabbed, Yoochun jumped off his balcony, Jaejoong was killed in a car accident in the 80's, and Junsu is the ghost of a broken grave.)