[iKON; Jinhwan/Junhwe] Ground Zero (3/3)

[concordances]

<<<

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Bobby says, for the umpteenth time. “Hadn’t left the house in weeks, straight up disappeared. Nothing much is missing- just his wallet and phone. He’s not answering any calls, though. Hanbin is out of his mind worrying.”

Yunhyeong swallows, pressing the phone closer to his ear. “When did you last see him?”

“Uh… Three days ago,” is Bobby’s reply. “Wednesday? Yeah. I dropped by in the evening, Hanbin and I were both there the day before. We looked everywhere we think he could’ve gone… It’s like he disappeared into thin air.”

“And the last time you saw him, he wasn’t acting strange, or anything?” Yunhyeong presses.

Bobby is quiet for a moment. “No, not any more so than- what are you, a cop? Look, if you don’t know anything, it’s fine. I just called to check.”

“I don’t,” Yunhyeong says quickly. “I haven’t seen Jinhwan since-”

The line goes dead as Bobby hangs up.

Yunhyeong lowers his phone from his ear, stares at the screen as the words call ended flash briefly across it. Then he suppresses a sigh and locks it, wiping the screen clean on the leg of his jeans.

Disappeared into thin air. It’s not like Jinhwan to let others worry about him, but then, it would be perfectly reasonable, considering what he’d been through recently. Something is nagging at Yunhyeong, though, something that has been bothering him since his meeting with Donghyuk.

Donghyuk had claimed he’d seen Jinhwan on the day of the explosion. There are probably a hundred different reasons why Jinhwan could have been at the plant that day, but only one possibility- peculiar and outlandish- had stuck out to Yunhyeong.

It’s a pretty ridiculous theory. Yunhyeong isn’t even sure if it’s possible, which is probably what makes it such a compelling one. He thumbs through his contacts list, selecting Jinhwan’s number and raising his phone to his ear.

The call goes straight to voicemail. Nothing unexpected.

He tries a different contact.

Donghyuk picks up after two rings. “Yunhyeong?” he says, surprised. “I didn’t think you’d ever need my number. What’s up?”

For some reason, Yunhyeong is relieved to hear his voice. “I need to ask you something. This might sound strange, and I’m sorry to bring it up again, but… What do you remember about Jinhwan, from the last time you saw him? At your workplace. That day.”

Donghyuk is silent for a while. “What do I remember about Jinhwan? Like… he was kind of on the small side, under one seventy? And he looked sick, I thought maybe he’d caught the flu or something. It was pretty cold…”

“No, not that,” Yunhyeong spares a glance at the clock mounted on the wall, trying to estimate how much time he has before his sister comes into the back room looking for him. “I mean, was he behaving strangely in any way?”

“What, like singing the national anthem while crawling around on all fours? You might want to be a bit more specific? He wasn’t doing either of those, though.”

Were they in any other situation, Yunhyeong might have laughed. As it is, he can feel a sense of foreboding beginning to make its way over him. “I mean, did he say anything that came across as strange? Did he seem to know anything he shouldn’t have known?”

Donghyuk goes silent for another few seconds. “Why are you asking me all this?”

Yunhyeong closes his eyes, takes a deep breath to collect himself. “Just answer the question. Please.”

“He was acting like you’re acting right now,” Donghyuk sniffs. “Asking me questions, asking me to do things, and then not telling me anything.”

Yunhyeong immediately feels bad. Donghyuk is an innocent, a bystander who had already lost a colleague in the accident. Who, by the sound of it, believes he’s partly to blame. He deserves an explanation. One which, unfortunately, Yunhyeong currently has neither the time nor answers to be able to give.

“If I figure this out, I’ll explain everything,” Yunhyeong promises.

Donghyuk seems to accept the poor attempt at a fair trade. He makes a thoughtful noise. “He didn’t seem to know Junhwe was quitting, but… he did ask me to try and keep Junhwe away from the East block,” he says. “Which was pretty, well, strange, like you said. But that’s about it.”

“Thanks, Donghyuk,” Yunhyeong says, voice tight. His suspicions might be right, after all.

It’s almost six, which means the restaurant will start getting crowded soon. Once that happens, it will be impossible to sneak out.

As he leaves from the back, heading in the direction of the station, Yunhyeong composes two texts- one to his sister, claiming a migraine and apologising for leaving her to take over his share of work for the night, and one to Bobby, asking for directions to Jinhwan’s apartment.

If there’s something to be thankful for, it’s that he manages to avoid peak hour on the train, making it to the apartment in under an hour. Bobby answers the door, one hand on the phone at his ear, talking heatedly to the person on the other end of the line. Yunhyeong places the bags of takeout he’d bought on the way on the dining table. Hanbin is nowhere in sight.

With Bobby distracted, Yunhyeong makes a beeline for the bedroom.

Nothing seems unusual, besides the fact that the room looks like it hasn’t been inhabited in ages. Everything is a touch too neat, unlived in. There’s a box atop the desk, which appears to contain several items belonging to Junhwe. Yunhyeong picks up a notebook, turns it over in his hands so that he can see the logo.

SK PlanTech. The grief hits him with a pang then. Junhwe had been someone he’d spent the better part of his university days with, with whom he had pulled all-nighters in the library with and dragged with him to lectures the next morning. They’d shared classes, ideas, a dream. Had a falling out that shouldn’t have lasted nearly as long as it had.

And now Junhwe is gone. For no reason that Yunhyeong can fathom. Without any warning.

And so is Jinhwan, from the looks of it. Unless Yunhyeong’s hunch is right, and there’s still a chance to change things.

It takes almost ten minutes of searching for Yunhyeong to find what he’s looking for. He’d originally been trying to move the bed slightly to get to the space between it and the wall, apparently forgetting the fundamentals of physics in the process. He heaves, and only the top half of the bed budges. And there, wedged between the mattress and bed frame, is what appears to be a small stack of papers.

Jinhwan watches mutely as the fire reach the first cabinet, the flames licking their way up the sides. He can’t move. There’s a layer of glass separating the fire from the assortment of bottled chemicals- will that be enough? He must have been through so many lab safety briefings at university, must have been taught something that would help in a situation like this. But even though he’d always been attentive in class, Jinhwan’s mind is completely blank.

The lab is quiet, save the soft crackle of the growing fire. For a split second, everything in the room seems almost calm.

The blast is sudden, with no real warning. There’s a blinding flash, a rush of heat, and then Jinhwan is knocked backwards, off his feet. He feels the back of his head connect with something as he falls.

There’s a burst of stars in his vision, and for a terrifying few seconds, it’s as if Jinhwan is in a void, disconnected from reality. His vision is white, along with the noise that fills his ears. He can’t feel any of his limbs. Panic grips him, the fear like a chokehold.

His senses return to him slowly- first the indistinct sound of something high-pitched, growing progressively louder. A ringing in his ears. No, Jinhwan realises, not a ringing in his ears. An alarm. The fire alarm. It sounds like someone is screaming too, but it’s so faint that it can’t be anyone in the immediate vicinity. Someone outside, maybe. Someone outside is screaming.

His vision is next, a blur of colour that gradually comes into focus, producing a shaky picture, fuzzy at the edges. The floor isn’t where he’d expected it to be. Jinhwan blinks, trying desperately to reorient himself. He’s slumped against a bench, and he’s looking at the windows. His head spins. A little over to the left- there it is. The blast had torn apart a portion of the wall separating it from the hallway. From this angle, some of the damage is blocked by the surrounding benches, some by the smoke billowing from the wreckage. Somehow, Jinhwan registers blackened, jagged edges of concrete.

Finally, he regains the ability to process things. A single thought had crossed his mind as he’d been knocked to the floor by the blast- this isn’t it. He’d lost it briefly in the aftermath, but now the implication returns. The explosion reported in the news, the one he’d been trying to stop, had decimated a large chunk of the building. Right now, the outer walls of the lab are still intact. Jinhwan is worse for wear, but still very much alive. So this blast, this small blast, can’t have been the same one. This isn’t it.

Then the pain hits him. Not so much a wave of it as a dull throbbing that grows, until it’s far too excruciating to ignore. Like a particularly bad body ache post-illness, but magnified tenfold. What he’d felt from his fall earlier had been nothing compared to this- Jinhwan squeezes his eyes shut, trying to steady his breathing. He’s suddenly aware that the room is hot, so hot that it feels like his face might begin melting at any moment. His head feels light and heavy at the same time.

He tries wiggling his fingers experimentally, but it’s as if his muscles are no longer under his control. He still can’t feel his body. It’s a good thing smoke rises, Jinhwan thinks faintly, because it doesn’t look like he’ll be going anywhere anytime soon. Is this how he dies? Paralysed, helpless, as the fire continues to rage around him.

But he can’t give up so easily. Not yet.

Jinhwan takes in everything around him, tries to find something that might help him out of the situation. The smoke has thickened; it clogs the air above Jinhwan, obstructing his vision. His eyes are beginning to smart.

That’s when he catches sight of the gaping hole in the floor. Only part of it is visible from his position, but it’s unmistakable- there’s light grey linoleum, and then there’s nothingness. The blast hadn’t just destroyed part of the wall. The screams had come from below, Jinhwan realises, from the lab directly underneath this one.

More worrying is the large crack that runs from the site of the blast, through the floor and ending inches from where Jinhwan is propped.

The floor isn’t crumbling. Not yet. But it looks like something that could happen at any moment, and if it does- a plummet to the floor below, with no way to brace his fall.

Jinhwan feels his heart rate speed up, breath coming out in gasps. Move, he thinks, and maybe it’s sheer desperation that reboots his motor neurons, but only enough that his arm spasms. Concentrating with everything he has, Jinhwan manages to draw his legs in, away from the crack in the floor. Every bit of movement is exhausting, like trying to run through quicksand.

Parts of the floor are falling away, starting with the area nearest the cabinet. He has seconds, maybe, before the destruction reaches him. Jinhwan angles himself away from the bench, pushes himself backwards. Slowly, steadily. But the progress he’s making isn’t enough. Pieces of the floor are breaking away, sending puffs of white dust into the air.

Ten seconds till the ground under him crumbles. Five seconds. Three-

Jinhwan closes his eyes, braces himself for the fall.

It happens fast. He hears a crash before he feels someone grab him from behind, yanking him backwards. Across the floor and out of danger. Jinhwan’s eyes fly open. The spot where he’d been sitting, just seconds previous, no longer exists.

Whoever had grabbed Jinhwan pulls him far away enough from the wreck that it seems safe, leans him up against another bench. Kneels down so he’s level with Jinhwan. Jinhwan knows who it is before he sees him.

“Are you okay?” Junhwe asks, concern etched on his face.

He’s wearing a shirt Jinhwan had bought him when they were still at university, his hair tamed down with wax- He looks exactly as he had on the morning of the accident. Which had been this morning, technically. To Junhwe, it would only have been hours ago. But to Jinhwan it had been weeks, maybe months. It had felt even longer than that.

Jinhwan tries to swallow the lump in his throat. His chest feels tight. Junhwe’s hand on his shoulder is a solid weight, completely real. Here, Junhwe is alive.

Jinhwan can’t go back to a future where he’ll never see Junhwe smile again, where there’s no reason to drag himself out of bed every morning when the sky is still dark. A future without the familiar weight next to him at night, where the dishes do themselves and there are no work-free weekends with Junhwe to look forward to. One where Junhwe is nothing more than a memory, someone Jinhwan will only ever see in his dreams. Jinhwan realises it as he looks at Junhwe, whose face is unusually pale, eyebrows drawn together in worry. Jinhwan can’t do it. Junhwe matters too fucking much.

Junhwe’s expression morphs into one of surprise, and that’s all Jinhwan remembers before Junhwe blurs and goes completely out of focus. There’s a noise- a high-pitched, broken-sounding thing- and it takes a moment for Jinhwan to realise it’s coming from himself. The next thing he knows, Junhwe’s arms are wrapped around him, and he’s bawling into the front of Junhwe’s shirt.

“Don’t… cry,” Junhwe says, so awkwardly endearing that it only makes Jinhwan cry harder. Every bit of upset he’d kept bottled up since the accident, all the grief and the guilt, all come flooding out. It’s stupid, but it’s like nothing else matters in that moment- not the accident, not the fire around them. Not when Junhwe is here in front of him. Jinhwan tries to stop- he knows Junhwe hates it when he cries- but it’s about as useful as trying to swim against a strong current. Jinhwan can’t help it.

Junhwe rubs soothing circles onto his back, waits for him to calm down. Jinhwan doesn’t know for how long. When he eventually quietens to a sniffling, Junhwe pulls away.

“We need to get out of here,” he mutters, keeping a reassuring hand on Jinhwan’s shoulders while making to stand. For some reason he winces and aborts the action, instead choosing to survey their surroundings from a kneeling position. He’s injured, Jinhwan realises. An almost grotesque-looking burn colours his thigh through the material of his pants.

Guilt is nothing unfamiliar at this point. Once again, Jinhwan had been too absorbed in his own problems to notice other, more important things. The wound on Junhwe’s thigh looks fresh, a bright, angry red. Jinhwan’s eyes water just from looking at it.

“You’re hurt,” Jinhwan says weakly. “Did you get that when you came in?”

Junhwe nods absently, still looking around. “Blocked,” he mutters, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “Everything’s blocked, there’s no way we can-” He seems to notice the way Jinhwan is looking at his injury. “It’s fine, it doesn’t hurt that much.”

He sounds so self-assured that Jinhwan is almost convinced. They’re waging a battle on Junhwe’s turf, Jinhwan realises- Junhwe’s workplace, half of what had made up his life. In a situation made possible by Junhwe’s own research. Jinhwan swallows, forcing himself to take his eyes off Junhwe’s thigh. There’s something else that’s been nagging at him, ever since Junhwe had all but materialised to save him.

“You’re not surprised I’m here,” Jinhwan says.

Junhwe avoids his eye, but Jinhwan reads discomfort in the slight stiffening of Junhwe’s shoulders, the way his fingers twitch. “I met Yunhyeong on the way here,” he says, as if that’s enough of an answer. Except for one detail: Yunhyeong had been meant to help keep Junhwe away, not the other way around.

“Did he tell you to come here?” Jinhwan asks, uncertainty beginning to work its way through his body.

Junhwe looks surprised. “No,” he says quickly. “Of course not.” He seems to hesitate before continuing. “We developed the research together, for a few years. Then he wanted to stop. Said it was too dangerous.”

Jinhwan nods, the gears in his head turning. Junhwe had always been fiercely determined- or stubborn, depending on how you looked at it. He had also stopped talking to Yunhyeong shortly after graduation.

Junhwe’s eyes are on the ground. “At first, I thought this whole thing was his idea, that he brought you here. But that’s not true, is it?”

Jinhwan shakes his head. “No.”

Junhwe seems to relax. He pulls himself over to where Jinhwan is, leaning beside him against the bench. “Yunhyeong was right,” Junhwe laughs, humourless. “I fucked up. I should’ve stopped when he told me to. I couldn’t tell you, Jinhwan, not once I figured it out. It was too dangerous. Do you know how it works?”

Jinhwan’s mouth is dry. “I didn’t,” he says. “But I think I do now.”

Junhwe looks away. “Then you already know how this ends. The physical chem lab is directly above us- I can’t carry you, not with this leg. There’s nowhere to go, anyway.”

Jinhwan is well aware that death might only be a minute away. In this moment, though, there seems nothing more tragic than seeing Junhwe look so lost. There’s something about hopelessness that doesn’t sit right on Junhwe. Junhwe makes mistakes- they both do- but he never stops trying, never backs down from fighting for what he wants. The look of utter defeat on his face frightens Jinhwan, possibly more than the prospect of the accident itself.

The fire has all but engulfed the side of the lab closest to the hallway, a wall between them and the rest of PlanTech. Jinhwan reaches over, takes Junhwe’s hand in his. He wants to tell Junhwe everything he’d failed to the last time, but he doesn’t know where to begin.

What comes out of his mouth instead is, “I heard you’re quitting.”

Junhwe sits up a little straighter. He looks surprised, but doesn’t ask any questions. Maybe he’s already figured it out.

“I like this job,” Junhwe admits. “But we don’t get enough time together.” He looks embarrassed at the admission, almost as though he hadn’t meant to say it. “I checked out other options- they’re a lot more flexible, less intensive. Not as prestigious, obviously, and the pay’s nowhere close, but I’d have more time outside of work. That’s what I want. More than I want to be here, I guess.”

Jinhwan doesn’t cry, he can’t start again, but the knot in his throat is tight. For the first time, he feels something besides guilt flare up in him- a sort of righteous indignation on Junhwe’s behalf. If only Bobby, Hanbin, Yunhyeong, everyone who had ever made an off-handed remark about Junhwe being the relationship’s obstacle, could only understand this for themselves. Junhwe is selfless, caring. Jinhwan had been stupid to have doubted it, to have ever thought otherwise.

“I knew you would’ve been upset if you found out,” Junhwe continues. He’s right, of course. Jinhwan would never have agreed to the compromise. Junhwe scoots a little closer to him, so that he’s practically pressed up against Jinhwan’s side. “But life’s too short for regrets, right?”

There’s nothing quite like being trapped in a burning building to magnify the complete truth in the statement. No one wants to die. Junhwe is brilliant, has a promising career laid out in front of him regardless of where he works. Junhwe deserves so much better. Jinhwan, maybe less so, but it’s not an easy feeling to describe, knowing that you’re facing the end. Jinhwan isn’t above admitting it. He’s scared.

“I’m sorry,” Jinhwan whispers. “I wish things were different. You’re so important to me, Junhwe, and I just…” he gives Junhwe’s hand a squeeze, in some naive sort of hope that Junhwe will understand what he’s trying to convey. “You know?”

When Junhwe smiles at him, it’s just like the very first time they met. “I know,” he says. “I love you, too.”

The flames have reached the ceiling, incinerating the cabinets in their wake. In slow motion, a section of the ceiling gives way, giving the fire a clear path in.

Like the first blast, the explosion goes off without much warning. Unlike it, this one makes the first look like child’s play; there’s a flash of bright, brilliant orange, rolls of dark smoke billowing from the upper floor. A deafening rumble accompanies it. And then a searing heat envelops the room- burning, impossibly hot.

Junhwe’s hand is gripped tightly in his. Jinhwan feels the world being ripped apart around him, and then everything goes white.

“…Witnesses reported hearing a blast following the sounding of the alarm. As of now, five of the deaths are suspected to be employees at the facility, with one body as of yet unidentified. The confirmed victims include Park Byungjun, Lee Jaemin, Koo Junhwe…”

They’d stood facing each other two years ago, a meter and a small stack of research separating them. There had been something in Junhwe’s eyes, fierce and determined, that had scared Yunhyeong.

It’s not too different from the look in his eyes now, crossing the first floor reception area of the building, right before he catches sight of Yunhyeong emerging from the East block lift lobby. A look passes over Junhwe’s face. Shock, pure and unadulterated. It’s gone in a second.

Yunhyeong lets Junhwe walk up to him. “What are you doing here?” Junhwe hisses.

He hasn’t changed. Same grumpy expression, same brashness. It feels like a dream, to see him alive and healthy, after having attended his funeral.

Yunhyeong doesn’t have a good answer to his question. For all that he’d expected to be up against by returning here, to this timeframe, he’s unprepared for this particular conversation.

I’m not sorry, but I wish we didn’t argue is the first thing that comes to mind. “I work here,” is what comes out instead, and from the flash of discontent in Junhwe’s eye it’s apparent he doesn’t buy it. “Didn’t you know?”

Junhwe scowls. “Were you upstairs? How did you get in?”

It had never been in Junhwe’s nature to be trusting, and their history had probably reduced any chance of Junhwe ever listening to him without question to zero. Still, Yunhyeong decides to try his luck. “It’s a long story,” he says. “I’ll tell you if you come with me for a bit.”

Junhwe eyes him warily. “No, I have somewhere to be.” He pulls his phone from his pocket to check the time. “Thanks to someone, I’m already late.”

“Don’t,” Yunhyeong says, before he can think it through. “You can’t up go there. It’s dangerous.”

Junhwe takes a step back, fixes Yunhyeong with a gaze that’s half frustration, half interest. “Why do people keep saying that? Do you know something I don’t?”

Yunhyeong swallows, raises a hand to scratch the back of his head. A nervous habit. “If you want the truth-”

He doesn’t realise Junhwe moves, only sees Junhwe’s arm dart out and feels Junhwe’s fingers wrap around his wrist. Yunhyeong jerks forward as his arm is pulled, twisted, but not in a way that hurts. For a second, he thinks Junhwe has finally cracked, is finally resorting to physical violence to get answers. Then he realises- Junhwe had grabbed him to get a proper view of the underside of his arm.

A bruise runs the length of it, a blotchy, ugly purple. Yunhyeong stares with Junhwe. It hadn’t been there before, he’s certain. Surely, he would have noticed or felt it. He hadn’t done anything that could have resulted in such a crude-looking injury, either.

Side effect, whispers the voice in his head.

“What happened to your arm?” Junhwe asks. But he knows, Yunhyeong realises, as he watches the myriad of emotions that flicker through Junhwe’s eyes. Confusion, apprehension, and finally realisation. It takes almost a full minute, but Junhwe knows exactly what it is.

“You didn’t,” Junhwe says.

Yunhyeong had been the one to do the research, to thrust it in Junhwe’s face during that final confrontation. Travelling outside of the usual space-time continuum could do unpredictable things to the body. It's inevitable. Symptoms, in the best-case scenario. Degeneration, in the worst. It's too dangerous. Far, far too dangerous.

Yunhyeong says nothing.

“You couldn’t have,” Junhwe continues, disbelieving. “It wouldn’t work.”

Yunhyeong licks his lips. They’re dry, chapped. “But I did,” he says. “So it must have worked.”

Junhwe shakes his head, releasing Yunhyeong’s wrist and taking a step back. He looks at Yunhyeong like he’s seeing him for the first time. “No, that’s not what I mean.” He seems to deliberate for a moment. “Theoretically, you could jump, but…”

“But what?” Yunhyeong asks, chest tight with anticipation.

Junhwe blinks. “But you wouldn’t be able to change anything,” he finishes. “That’s the whole problem with jumping back. That’s why nothing came out of everything we did. It’s pointless. It would create a paradox.”

For all that space-time manipulation is meant to be infeasible, it seems like time has slowed.

And finally, everything makes sense.

Yunhyeong never really had a chance at saving Jinhwan. He never had a chance at saving Junhwe. There’s only one timeline, in which Jinhwan returns, and so does Yunhyeong, and together they try to stop the inevitable. Inevitable, because they’d helped cause it.

“God,” Yunhyeong whispers, entire body numb. “I was right, it’s so dangerous. It’s even worse than I’d thought.”

Junhwe has that look in his eye, the one that means he has an endless number of questions, but no idea how to go about asking them. He opens his mouth-

-and a shrill sound cuts through the air, so piercing that Yunhyeong jumps.

The fire alarm.

Junhwe jerks, startled. For moments, nothing appears to have changed. Then the alarm rings a second time, equally shrill, and the receptionist at the far end of the lobby gets to her feet. Junhwe glances towards the East block lobby.

“Don’t,” Yunhyeong warns, in a last-ditch attempt to avoid the unavoidable. “Stay away from there, Jinhwan wanted-”

A mistake. Yunhyeong realises too late that Junhwe isn’t supposed to know anything about Jinhwan’s involvement in this. Junhwe goes white.

“What,” he growls, voice so low it’s almost inaudible. “Did you say?”

Yunhyeong shuts his mouth. If he’d thought Junhwe had been riled up earlier, he’d been wrong. Junhwe is positively bristling now. Yunhyeong has never seen him look so angry.

“If you brought Jinhwan with you-” Junhwe starts, but he’s interrupted by a loud chime, followed by a pleasant female voice, projected from the building’s announcement system.

“Your attention please. The fire alarm has been activated. Please evacuate the building via the nearest emergency exit, and do not use the elevators. We are currently investigating the source. Thank you.”

Junhwe turns to Yunhyeong. “Where is he?” he demands. “I have to go before- before my colleague finds me.” Already there are employees beginning to emerge from their respective lobbies, wandering into the reception area with varying levels of surprise on their faces. Yunhyeong wonders for a moment whether there would be any point in withholding the information.

But once again, he’d probably do the same as Junhwe, were their positions reversed.

When he answers, Junhwe’s lips thin. Simultaneously, there’s a shout from the West side of the building- Donghyuk is making his way over, eyes fixed on them, frantically trying to push past the growing crowd of employees streaming towards the exit.

Junhwe turns and bolts for the East block. Yunhyeong stays rooted to the spot. As Donghyuk tries to pass him, Yunhyeong grabs him.

“Let me go,” Donghyuk gasps. “I can’t let Junhwe- he’s going to- let go of me-”

But Yunhyeong can’t. He’d already sent two of his friends to their deaths. One completely by accident, the other less so. He feels the bile rising at the back of his throat, a burning guilt snaking its way through him. His fault. And yet, there’s someone he can save. Someone he’s meant to save.

“Sorry,” Yunhyeong bites out, through gritted teeth. “I can’t do that.”

Jinhwan is taking a break from practicing a new routine when his phone flashes, indicating an incoming call from an unknown number.

"Jinhwan?" says the voice at the other end of the line, shaky and distorted with poor reception. "Where are you? I… I couldn’t get to him."

The voice is unfamiliar. "Uh," Jinhwan racks his brains for something he might have forgotten, tries to situate the person’s words in some sort of context. His mind comes up blank. "Get to who? Who is this?"

"It's me," the voice is noticeably urgent. Jinhwan is beginning to think he hadn’t imagined the hysteria there, that it’s not just the result of static. The person on the other end of the line sounds panicked and short of breath. "It's me, Donghyuk."

"Donghyuk?" Jinhwan quickly runs through a mental list of some of his closer friends from middle and high school. The name doesn’t ring a bell; he’s fairly certain he doesn’t know a Donghyuk.

“I couldn’t get to Junhwe. I think he-” the rest of Donghyuk’s words are indecipherable, drowned out by the sounds of raised voices in the background.

“What?” Jinhwan asks, heart skipping a beat. “What happened? Is Junhwe okay?”

And then the name clicks. Jinhwan does know a Donghyuk. He’s Junhwe’s colleague, the one who apparently doesn’t know how to shut up, but also regularly covers for any screw ups Junhwe makes in the lab. Junhwe has talked about him on multiple occasions.

“Explosion,” Donghyuk says, voice wavering. “In the East block. Didn’t you hear?”

Morning rush hour is the worst time to be taking the train anywhere, let alone to the university station. The time on Jinhwan’s phone reads five minutes to nine; he had initially thought his lateness would at least mean an easing crowd, that maybe for once he wouldn’t end up being trampled by eager first years before even setting foot on campus. Now that he steps onto the platform with about a hundred others jostling for the exit, however, he remembers that the tardiness of university is inescapable.

The crowd forms a bottleneck at the stairs, and someone particularly enthusiastic about making it to class shoves Jinhwan to get past. The timing is unfortunate; Jinhwan is caught mid-step, one foot off the ground, and the impact sends him off-balance and careening into the person to his right. Carried by the momentum, Jinhwan knocks the person off course with him, straight into the wall of the station.

“Sorry,” Jinhwan yelps once he’s regained his balance, frantically jumping back and out of the person’s personal space. “That was an accident- I was pushed and- sorry.”

“What the fuck,” is the unenthused, boyish reply. “Watch where you’re- oh, hey.”

Jinhwan raises his head to get a look at the person he’d accidentally assaulted. The boy looks to be a student in his first or second year, with a style Bobby would probably call “hip-hop” and Hanbin would probably call “boring”. He’s tall, in an annoyingly attractive way, with slightly more than half a head on Jinhwan. All traces of irritation on the boy’s face seems to vanish the instant Jinhwan makes eye contact with him.

Jinhwan frowns, perplexed by the reaction. “Hey?”

The boy blanches, then averts his gaze. “We’re, uh, in the same naming theory class. The one on Thursdays? You were… a few seats from me in last week’s lecture.”

Jinhwan studies the boy’s face. “Oh,” he says after a second. “I remember you. You’re the… coffee… guy. The one with the coffee.”

The boy looks mortified.

Jinhwan gestures to his once-white sneakers. “I haven’t had the chance to try washing the stains out… but don’t worry about it. They have more character now, or so I’ve been told.”

The boy flushes, nodding awkwardly. Jinhwan glances towards the stairs, which are now almost empty. “Well, it’s Thursday, so we can walk to class together?”

The boy nods again, surprised. “Come on,” Jinhwan says. “Let’s go, before the next train gets here.” As he turns, he hears the boy mutter something behind him. Jinhwan only catches the words do-over.

“If only it were possible,” Jinhwan says, without really thinking.

“It could be possible,” the boy mumbles. “Someday.”

Jinhwan stops in his tracks, turning and thrusting his hand out at the boy. “Speaking of which,” he says. “I’m Jinhwan. Kim Jinhwan. Nice to meet you.”

Once again, the boy looks taken aback. But he reaches out, takes Jinhwan’s hand firmly in his. A slow smile spreads across his face. It’s a nice smile.

“Junhwe,” he says. “Koo Junhwe.”

+ The idea behind the Novikov self-consistency principle is that you cannot change the past in any way, because if you do, the sequence of events that led to you travelling back in the first place would no longer exist. Rather, travelling back would lead to you contributing to the events, creating a paradox - Jinhwan travelled back in time because the accident took place, but at the same time the accident took place because Jinhwan travelled back in time.
+ If you have any questions at all, feel free to ask them! I would love to hear any feedback (even if you just want to yell at me)!
+ I...did not ever expect to attempt something this ambitious. Another huge thanks to Reet for salvaging my initial mess, and I hope you liked this, Alice u__u