All These Open Doors
All These Open Doors
Pairing: Joonmyun/Jongdae
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 4K
Warnings: implied stress drinking but no alcoholism, ex-members
Summary : [post-disbandment au] Joonmyun wants to move on but he only ever has one foot in the present.
a/n: written over here for the 2015 round of criticalcapture
In the beginning, he had thought of it as some kind of cosmic revenge. A universal joke to pay him back for all of his fuck-ups-disobeying his parents, the disbandment, joining SM, leaving SM-but that had lasted as long as it had taken Kyungsoo to drag him back to his apartment at two a.m., drunk and pissy.
“Why do you do this to yourself?” Kyungsoo asks as he chucks a bottle of water at Joonmyun’s head.
Joonmyun is splayed out on his leather ottoman, neck bent awkwardly against the unforgiving armrest, and feeling every shot of soju he had taken that night burning through his stomach. “Why shouldn’t I do this to myself?” he mouths back.
Some people are happy drunks, loud and giggly like Jongin, while others get weepy or grow silent like Baekhyun, whose mouth thins and clams shut the more he drinks. Then there are people like Joonmyun: angry, sullen drunks whose moods worsen as the night goes on. Joonmyun hates this part of himself, hates how nasty his words can get, and makes a point to only ever contact Kyungsoo, Changmin, or Minseok when he gets this bad.
Kyungsoo is currently staring flatly down at Joonmyun over the glasses that have slipped down his nose, “Because you look like shit and you’re going to say terrible things you’ll regret tonight as I nurse your sorry ass. And you’re not going to feel one wit better tomorrow morning about whatever put you in this state.” He’s frowning now as he props a decorative pillow under Joonmyun’s neck, hands grabbing the untouched water bottle and thumping it onto Joonmyun’s chest. “Drink the water; if you have the energy to talk, you have the energy to swallow.”
Joonmyun glares ineffectively up at Kyungsoo with eyes squinted and unfocused. “What do you now about how I feel? You can’t predict the future, Kyungsoo…” he croaks. “You can’t but neither can I and isn’t that sad? Why couldn’t I have been given something useful?!”
He has enough sense left to not actually mention the time traveling. Because that was what this whole thing was about: in the most hilarious fit of irony, Joonmyun had somehow gained a superpower after spending eight years of his life pretending to have one, and now he was jumping back in time like an unfortunate comic book character in a B-rated movie. It was messing him up. And while Kyungsoo probably would have taken any mention of it for drunken rambling, Joonmyun hadn’t lasted this long in the entertainment industry by relying on possibilities.
“While I’m sure your problems are terrible and full of appropriate angst, I think I know enough to determine that you’ll be puking soon." Kyungsoo punctuates the statement by tipping a bottle of Morning Care against Joonmyun’s lips, forcing him to swallow the hangover supplement. He’s always like this, Kyungsoo, cool-headed but caring in a way entirely different than Joonmyun who functions by compartmentalization. So much so that all of his emotions can only spill out during inebriated ramblings, like a dormant volcano waiting to explode.
“This is probably the world’s way of telling me my whole life is a mistake,” he slurs.
“Do you really think the world has enough time to pick on you specifically out of the seven billion other people on this planet?”
“Why do you have to make sense? I’m drunk, can’t I have some pity?” Joonmyun groans around a swallow of water.
Kyungsoo smiles faintly before reaching out and carding a hand through Joonmyun’s disheveled hair. “No, sorry, I’m not Jongin. Unstick your head out of your ass and you’ll find a solution, hyung.”
Joonmyun grits his teeth stubbornly but he knows that Kyungsoo is right. This whole superpower deal was some sort of terrible accident: a bigger one than the time he had let Heechul feed him bathtub brewed makgeolli but still manageable.
“…I hate you…”
“Good to know that we’re on the same page.” Kyungsoo retorts easily and Joonmyun lets out a rattling laugh before dry heaving over the side of the ottoman.
///
It had started back a few months ago. Joonmyun had woken up from a nap in 2009; his face had been pressed flush against a school desk, his hands folded beneath his forehead in a pitiful excuse for a pillow and the sound of lunchtime chatter had filled his ears. It had taken several long, groggy minutes for Joonmyun to register where he was in disbelief, the pressed, starchy cotton of his uniform shirt gripped tight in his hands as he had looked at his younger face in a bathroom mirror.
At the time, Joonmyun had kept oscillating between convincing himself that it was a nightmare and stressing over whether or not he could even go back to the present. Luckily for him, he had jumped back to 2030 a mere couple of hours later after only two near emotional breakdowns. Nobody had said anything about Joonmyun going missing and after obsessively checking all available calendar sources for the following couple of days with no (unexpected) changes in date, Joonmyun had been ready to put aside the incident as a freak event. Then it happened again. And again.
Once, to 1999, after Joonmyun had turned ten and been in the middle of bemoaning to his older brother about how he had only gotten to the double digits when the world was going to end in a matter of seven months. Another time, back to 2005, when he had first realized that he wanted to live his own dreams, not that of his parents, and rewrote his career goals. Then to 2024 when Joonmyun had been puking into a toilet after his first successful movie audition, with Jongdae crammed into the stall with him, rubbing soothingly at his back.
And back and forward and back again. Different moments, the same moments, for both long and short periods of time, Joonmyun found himself reliving his forty-one years of life for no rhyme or reason. The only rules seemed to be that he never ever found himself in the future and that no matter what Joonmyun did in the past, nothing ever seemed to change.
But that was nothing new, Joonmyun thinks, as he walks himself out of Kyungsoo’s apartment mid-morning with his shoes in hand and a scribbled note of thanks left behind on the kitchen table.
At this point in time, Joonmyun wasn’t sure if he could handle change anymore.
///
“Woah, you crashed at Kyungsoo’s again?” is the first thing Joonmyun hears when he slides into the seat opposite of Jongdae. There are two cups of cold barley tea already set out on the table and a to-go iced Americano in front of Joonmyun’s seat. “Sorry, it’s kind of hot outside today,” Jongdae explains as Joonmyun wipes off the condensation that has beaded across the coffee cup. From a few meters away the restaurant ahjumma bustles back into the kitchen to place their usual orders. It’s Saturday afternoon and they’re meeting up for their usual bimonthly lunch.
The first time Joonmyun had turned down Sehun and Soojung’s brunch invitation with an explanation that he had this routine with Jongdae, they had burst out laughing.
“Bimonthly lunches. Oh my god, I would ask if you were joking but that is so you oppa,” Soojung had giggled across the phone line with a fond tone in her voice. Joonmyun had vaguely heard Sehun wheezing in the background: “There’s no helping Jongdae-hyung now!”
There had been the sound of a smack as Soojung had presumably shoved Sehun over, “Oh shut up you, it’s cute. Don’t be mean.”
“People eat lunch together all the time,” Joonmyun had said, feeling oddly defensive.
“Yes,” agreed Soojung. “But usually not Lunches. Especially prescheduled bimonthly ones.”
“Well, Jongdae doesn’t seem to mind them…”
“Of course he doesn’t,” Sehun had interjected. There had been a funny twist to his words, something else besides the repressed mirth in his voice. “He never minds.”
“And you shouldn’t either,” Soojung had said before Joonmyun could comment on it. “We’re both just poking fun at you, but there’s nothing wrong with bimonthly lunches or what-have-you. You guys just do you, alright?” And that had been that.
Still, Joonmyun had worried about it for a while after, had been ready to cancel their next few lunches, but then he had his first time jump a week later and Joonmyun suddenly had far more immediate things to stress about.
He’s glad he hadn’t canceled the lunches though. Because Jongdae’s amused smile and familiar presence is soothing and Joonmyun doesn’t really know what he would do without it.
“How much did you drink last night? You kind of look like shit,” Jongdae says, reaching across the table to try to pry off Joonmyun’s sunglasses. Joonmyun dodges weakly to the side, self-consciously pushing his sunglasses higher up his nose.
“Enough to feel like shit too,” he croaks.
Jongdae lets out a small huff of exasperation before relenting and leaning back into his seat. “What is it this time?” Jongdae asks. “You only ever do this when you’re stressed out like hell. I mean, I thought you just meant you had the drinking-after-work hangover when you texted this morning, so I picked up the Americano. But this is totally the I-got-absolutely-sloshed kind of hangover.”
“Just a lot of personal things,” Joonmyun deflects. “But really let’s not focus on my problems; I rehashed them enough with Kyungsoo last night. How is your MCing gig going?”
Jongdae frowns for second, ignoring the question, mouth pursed and looking like he wants to push the issue before he crosses his arms with a full-body sigh. “Okay, fine, we won’t talk about it but you do know you can come to me if you need anything right?” Jongdae pouts.
Joonmyun chuckles fondly, “Yes, Jongdae, don’t worry about it. I feel like I’ve been letting you take care of me too much as it is.”
“Don’t say unnecessary things.” Jongdae rolls his eyes. At that moment, the waitress comes over with their orders and sets down a bowl of black bean noodles in front of Jongdae and a bowl of beef seaweed soup in front of Joonmyun along with the side dishes.
“I was supposed to get the jjajangmyeon too,” Joonmyun tries to protest. The waitress turns to look at him and pointedly nods to his obviously hungover face: “You need the soup more than you need the noodles right now,” she comments and he flushes.
Joonmyun makes a face once she leaves and pokes a spoon despondently into his soup. Jongdae shoves a mouthful of noodles into his mouth and grins smugly over at Joonmyun. They eat in silence for a while before Jongdae speaks up once again.
“Really though, talk to me about things okay?”
“Okay,” Joonmyun half-heartedly promises because his problem wasn’t really something he could talk about without sounding half-insane. “I will. So, your MCing?” He prods.
Jongdae looks exasperated, maybe even slightly hurt, but he launches dutifully enough into a story about his new MCing position for a weekend variety show program, and soon enough Joonmyun is too busy laughing to wonder about how long he has left before his next time jump.
///
Some moments were worse to revisit than others.
There is a part of Joonmyun that shrink in on itself every time he realizes he has gone back to his SM years. The trainee days are hard to stomach; hours of back-to-back idol instruction alongside continual criticism has Joonmyun biting his tongue in frustration long before his time is up. It never takes much before the other trainees start glancing at him in curiosity as he messes up choreo that they had just learned the day previous or when he forgets schedules that they were briefed on an hour prior. Joonmyun usually tries for nonchalance and profuse apologies, and after a few times nobody seems to take care anymore though Joonmyun occasionally sees raised eyebrows or slight smirks filled with derision. It’s tough but manageable.
It is on the days when Joonmyun slips into awareness and realizes that he is once again with EXO, however, that Joonmyun just wants to lock himself in the dorm and hide. Sometimes he realizes immediately because Lu Han’s laugh is loud and ringing in his ears as he comes to or because Chanyeol’s palm is spread across his back, warm and supportive, like it still belongs there. Other times, Joonmyun stumbles into the dorm kitchen, groggy at 4 am, and has no clue whether this was their before or if it was their after where silence reigned supreme and he was one of the last ones left behind.
Fans back home, in the future, the present, the ones who still believed in an OT-whatever, would probably cry tears and say that Joonmyun was afraid of losing his family all over again. Because these were the brothers that he had shed blood and sweat and tears with; this was “one, two, three, EXO saranghaja” and that love bleeding out of their bodies as the industry sucked them dry. But Joonmyun is 41, old by idol standards, and ripe for marriage if the constant variety questions are anything to go by. He’s old and any sense of betrayal or loss has numbed with time and scabbed over with hushed apologies across disposable phone lines.
“I have made my peace, haven’t I?” he thinks as he watches Sehun tackle Zitao onto the couch, the pair wrestling for control of the television. “So what purpose does this serve?” The year is 2013, weeks before the group’s first ever comeback and Joonmyun has slipped back to pre-Growl era for the third time.
He was currently squished in between Chanyeol and Yifan on the floor of the living room, the whole group lounging in front of the television for a late night, pre-comeback, movie. It was a toss-up between Iron Man and the Avengers and mainly unresolved because neither of the maknaes were willing to relinquish the remote control and everyone else was either too tired or amused to take it from them.
“Yah, just pick a movie already!” Baekhyun shouted and it was loud enough for Zitao to startle, the remote slipping from his fingers only to be snatched up gleefully by Sehun who immediately chose Iron Man.
Joonmyun tucks his chin into his chest as the movie plays, hoping to get this over with as quickly as possible. He’s overheating a little from the combined warmth of Chanyeol and Yifan on either side of him and he knows that if he were to let himself do so, he could easily sink into that warmth and relax, let the movie and the moment wash over him. And that was dangerous because this couldn’t last, wouldn’t last and Joonmyun didn’t want to rip open a scar that he thought he had healed long ago. So he folds into himself like he’s about to fall asleep and ignores the way the boys next to him shift easily to make him more comfortable, like this was normal and easy and routine.
He ignores the way it makes his throat close up a little in regret, closes his eyes and tries to forget. The world lurches away from underneath Joonmyun some time later and it is only then that he lets himself open his eyes.
///
There’s a light on in the hallway when Joonmyun wakes up. He’s pretty sure he turned everything off before he had collapsed into bed but maybe he’d forgotten the lights to the side of the living room again. He eases himself quietly out from under his sheets, sleep-slow and still exhausted, before he takes a habitual glance at the alarm clock on his bedside table. 10 p.m., it reads, and Joonmyun wants to groan because it looks like he had missed out on all of his appointments during the jump. He checks his phone and winces at the numerous missed calls from his manager.
Noise coming from the direction of the kitchen distracts him and has Joonmyun tiptoeing cautiously out of the bedroom. The rest of the apartment is completely silent and Joonmyun’s pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to be entertaining guests tonight. He hoped to the high heavens this wasn’t a saesang. He has not had to deal with break-ins in years purely because the security at this complex was so high, but he wouldn’t put it past the most determined “fan” to get in. He really didn’t want to deal with that right now.
Fortunately for him, the figure in front of the refrigerator was very familiar and Joonmyun nearly sags in relief.
“Jongdae?”
There’s a bang and a hiss as Jongdae hits his head against the fridge door while turning around. His eyes are wide with shock as he blinks owlishly at Joonmyun across the countertop. There are plastic convenience store bags around his feet and a bottle of fresh milk in his hand. The light coming from the fridge throws his face into shadow.
“I-I thought you were out for the night?” Jongdae croaks out eventually, a sheepish grin on his face. “Didn’t you have an appointment?”
“I was feeling kind of tired today,” Joonmyun lies, “So I canceled it. You’re the one who has been restocking my fridge? I thought it was Kyungsoo.”
“Oh. Yeah, no, it was me,” Jongdae mumbles. “If you’re not feeling too well you should go back to bed. I’ll be done real quick and right out of your hair.”
Joonmyun twists his fingers together thoughtfully, looking at Jongdae, “No, actually, I’m feeling like I kind of want to go out now. I skipped dinner, so what do you think about getting some chicken and beer and heading to over to the Han River?”
Jongdae hums lightly for a second, a look of consideration on his face, but Joonmyun had seen the way he had perked up at the mention of the river and knew what the answer was going to be.
“Okay, but you’re paying!” Jongdae teases and Joonmyun nods expectantly.
///
There is a surprisingly few amount of people camped out on the river bank when they arrive but Joonmyun attributes it to the cold and the fact that it was a work day. They walk for a long time, making light conversation and drinking a little before finding a spot far away enough that they probably wouldn’t be spotted by any nosy passersby.
“Can I ask you a question?” Joonmyun asks, once they have gotten comfortable.
Jongdae sends him a look as if to say “you just did” or “just ask it” so Joonmyun gives a small awkward smile before speaking again.
“What would you have done,” Joonmyun asks slowly, “if you had never become a singer?”
Jongdae chuckles, “Are we playing 101 interview questions, hyung? I’m not even tipsy yet.”
“I’m serious.”
There’s a pause as Jongdae looks up from his beer can to squint at Joonmyun’s face in consideration. Whatever he finds there makes the humor in his eyes sober and he clears his throat awkwardly.
“I probably would have gone to university for some type of liberal arts degree,” Jongdae shrugs, “Would have done Friday night acapella gigs in Sinchon, and gotten a cushy office job while part-timing at a records store.”
“Jongdae, I said to be serious,” Joonmyun says.
“I am. Is it really that hard to believe? I don’t think I could ever give up music completely. Someway, somehow, I would have still have found a way back to it.”
Joonmyun chews on his bottom lip as he thinks those words over. Someway, somehow, huh?
“Why are you asking though?” Jongdae questions.
“It’s nothing,” he says quickly, the words automatically out of his mouth. He winces as Jongdae gives him a disbelieving look, eyebrows halfway up his forehead. “Okay. It’s not…nothing. It’s just. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, you know?”
“I feel like I'm not really getting anywhere with my career right now. The industry is chock full of fresh blood and the amount of new scripts that I get sent keep dwindling every month. There’s also just been a bunch of other…things…lately that just make me feel regretful. Like what would have happened if I hadn’t pursued music, if I hadn’t tried auditioning or sticking it out for over six years of training? Would I feel any better off?” Joonmyun muses.
Jongdae is quiet for a long moment. The sound of soft laughter from the few people still around them drifts over along with the night breeze and Joonmyun reflexively touches a finger to the brim of his cap to tip it further down. It’s pointless, really, what with the waning moon covered by a smattering of clouds and the streetlights throwing everything else into shadow, but there’s comfort in the habit so Joonmyun does nothing more than trace the brim of his hat for a moment before letting his hand drop.
He starts badly, though, when Jongdae reaches over to cover it with his own. Jongdae’s hands are warm despite the eleven p.m. chill, callused palms barely resting along the back of Joonmyun’s hands as if Jongdae, himself, wasn’t sure if this was okay.
“Do you remember back when we first won on Music Bank?” Jongdae asks.
Joonmyun’s gone back to that moment at least two times and even without supernatural aid it is easy for him to remember the whirlwind affair of their first win.
“Everyone thought you were fake-crying with all of that snot dribbling down your face-you even said you exaggerated a bit-but I saw you after the rest of us left to head to the vans,” Jongdae smiles a little, “You were hunched over in the same spot Jongin had been sobbing in. You weren’t crying anymore but your eyes were red rimmed and there were still tissues clutched in your hand; you had the happiest look on your face though and you were singing. It was Wolf. Your voice was shot from all of the tears and the yelling, you cracked on the high notes, and you sounded ridiculous because Wolf was ridiculous but you were grinning as you sang the whole song.”
Jongdae turns his head to look across the river where the twinkling city lights blended together on the waters' surface. “I don’t know when that happiness slipped away from you. Or when you had started to forget that that joy had existed but the you of that time had loved what you were doing. And it wasn't a singularly unique moment either. You laughed a lot more than you cried or got angry back then. You still do. It might not seem like it to you but it's true. Your resilience is one of the things that I admire about you the most,” he admits quietly.
Joonmyun swallows dryly, a little unsure of what to do. On one hand, Joonmyun wants to refute what Jongdae has said, wants to deny that admiration because he doesn’t feel worthy of it. On the other hand though, Joonmyun kind of wants cry because Jongdae, Kim Jongdae with his sun-bright smiles and unwavering optimism, admired him.
“But you’re always so positive,” Joonmyun says with a wobble in his voice.
“Not always,” Jongdae corrects. “The years haven’t left me unmarked either, hyung. I almost gave up when after my vocal cord surgery six years back, you know. It took so long for me to recover and by then it seemed like my time in industry had passed.”
“But I had my family behind me, and my company’s support. I had the well-wishes of all of our friends and I still had my love for music. I also had you.” Jongdae punctuates the statement with a hand squeeze. “You kept supporting me with little messages and terrible porridge and song recommendations for me to cover when I got better. And those things kept me going. Which is why I want you to know that I’m here for you too. That you’re worth it.”
Joonmyun closes his eyes and blinks back the tears. Maybe he could talk about this to Jongdae after all. Even if it didn’t do anything, didn’t get rid of the supernatural weirdness, at least Joonmyun would have let someone else by his side to share the burden. Maybe this was what he had needed all along: to truly let go of his regrets one by one. To finally move on.
“Okay,” Joonmyun starts. “I have a crazy story to tell….”
- Joonmyun is 41 and Jongdae is 38 in this fic.
- EXO disbanded in 2020 and shortly afterward Joonmyun left SM and pursued a career in acting, putting that degree he got at KNU to good use
- I didn't get to this but Jongdae is a solo artist at another company and is a prominent face in variety programs
- The little bit about Joonmyun going back to 1999 and talking about the world ending is a reference to the Y2K technology scare
- Thank you for reading!
Pairing: Joonmyun/Jongdae
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 4K
Warnings: implied stress drinking but no alcoholism, ex-members
Summary : [post-disbandment au] Joonmyun wants to move on but he only ever has one foot in the present.
a/n: written over here for the 2015 round of criticalcapture
In the beginning, he had thought of it as some kind of cosmic revenge. A universal joke to pay him back for all of his fuck-ups-disobeying his parents, the disbandment, joining SM, leaving SM-but that had lasted as long as it had taken Kyungsoo to drag him back to his apartment at two a.m., drunk and pissy.
“Why do you do this to yourself?” Kyungsoo asks as he chucks a bottle of water at Joonmyun’s head.
Joonmyun is splayed out on his leather ottoman, neck bent awkwardly against the unforgiving armrest, and feeling every shot of soju he had taken that night burning through his stomach. “Why shouldn’t I do this to myself?” he mouths back.
Some people are happy drunks, loud and giggly like Jongin, while others get weepy or grow silent like Baekhyun, whose mouth thins and clams shut the more he drinks. Then there are people like Joonmyun: angry, sullen drunks whose moods worsen as the night goes on. Joonmyun hates this part of himself, hates how nasty his words can get, and makes a point to only ever contact Kyungsoo, Changmin, or Minseok when he gets this bad.
Kyungsoo is currently staring flatly down at Joonmyun over the glasses that have slipped down his nose, “Because you look like shit and you’re going to say terrible things you’ll regret tonight as I nurse your sorry ass. And you’re not going to feel one wit better tomorrow morning about whatever put you in this state.” He’s frowning now as he props a decorative pillow under Joonmyun’s neck, hands grabbing the untouched water bottle and thumping it onto Joonmyun’s chest. “Drink the water; if you have the energy to talk, you have the energy to swallow.”
Joonmyun glares ineffectively up at Kyungsoo with eyes squinted and unfocused. “What do you now about how I feel? You can’t predict the future, Kyungsoo…” he croaks. “You can’t but neither can I and isn’t that sad? Why couldn’t I have been given something useful?!”
He has enough sense left to not actually mention the time traveling. Because that was what this whole thing was about: in the most hilarious fit of irony, Joonmyun had somehow gained a superpower after spending eight years of his life pretending to have one, and now he was jumping back in time like an unfortunate comic book character in a B-rated movie. It was messing him up. And while Kyungsoo probably would have taken any mention of it for drunken rambling, Joonmyun hadn’t lasted this long in the entertainment industry by relying on possibilities.
“While I’m sure your problems are terrible and full of appropriate angst, I think I know enough to determine that you’ll be puking soon." Kyungsoo punctuates the statement by tipping a bottle of Morning Care against Joonmyun’s lips, forcing him to swallow the hangover supplement. He’s always like this, Kyungsoo, cool-headed but caring in a way entirely different than Joonmyun who functions by compartmentalization. So much so that all of his emotions can only spill out during inebriated ramblings, like a dormant volcano waiting to explode.
“This is probably the world’s way of telling me my whole life is a mistake,” he slurs.
“Do you really think the world has enough time to pick on you specifically out of the seven billion other people on this planet?”
“Why do you have to make sense? I’m drunk, can’t I have some pity?” Joonmyun groans around a swallow of water.
Kyungsoo smiles faintly before reaching out and carding a hand through Joonmyun’s disheveled hair. “No, sorry, I’m not Jongin. Unstick your head out of your ass and you’ll find a solution, hyung.”
Joonmyun grits his teeth stubbornly but he knows that Kyungsoo is right. This whole superpower deal was some sort of terrible accident: a bigger one than the time he had let Heechul feed him bathtub brewed makgeolli but still manageable.
“…I hate you…”
“Good to know that we’re on the same page.” Kyungsoo retorts easily and Joonmyun lets out a rattling laugh before dry heaving over the side of the ottoman.
///
It had started back a few months ago. Joonmyun had woken up from a nap in 2009; his face had been pressed flush against a school desk, his hands folded beneath his forehead in a pitiful excuse for a pillow and the sound of lunchtime chatter had filled his ears. It had taken several long, groggy minutes for Joonmyun to register where he was in disbelief, the pressed, starchy cotton of his uniform shirt gripped tight in his hands as he had looked at his younger face in a bathroom mirror.
At the time, Joonmyun had kept oscillating between convincing himself that it was a nightmare and stressing over whether or not he could even go back to the present. Luckily for him, he had jumped back to 2030 a mere couple of hours later after only two near emotional breakdowns. Nobody had said anything about Joonmyun going missing and after obsessively checking all available calendar sources for the following couple of days with no (unexpected) changes in date, Joonmyun had been ready to put aside the incident as a freak event. Then it happened again. And again.
Once, to 1999, after Joonmyun had turned ten and been in the middle of bemoaning to his older brother about how he had only gotten to the double digits when the world was going to end in a matter of seven months. Another time, back to 2005, when he had first realized that he wanted to live his own dreams, not that of his parents, and rewrote his career goals. Then to 2024 when Joonmyun had been puking into a toilet after his first successful movie audition, with Jongdae crammed into the stall with him, rubbing soothingly at his back.
And back and forward and back again. Different moments, the same moments, for both long and short periods of time, Joonmyun found himself reliving his forty-one years of life for no rhyme or reason. The only rules seemed to be that he never ever found himself in the future and that no matter what Joonmyun did in the past, nothing ever seemed to change.
But that was nothing new, Joonmyun thinks, as he walks himself out of Kyungsoo’s apartment mid-morning with his shoes in hand and a scribbled note of thanks left behind on the kitchen table.
At this point in time, Joonmyun wasn’t sure if he could handle change anymore.
///
“Woah, you crashed at Kyungsoo’s again?” is the first thing Joonmyun hears when he slides into the seat opposite of Jongdae. There are two cups of cold barley tea already set out on the table and a to-go iced Americano in front of Joonmyun’s seat. “Sorry, it’s kind of hot outside today,” Jongdae explains as Joonmyun wipes off the condensation that has beaded across the coffee cup. From a few meters away the restaurant ahjumma bustles back into the kitchen to place their usual orders. It’s Saturday afternoon and they’re meeting up for their usual bimonthly lunch.
The first time Joonmyun had turned down Sehun and Soojung’s brunch invitation with an explanation that he had this routine with Jongdae, they had burst out laughing.
“Bimonthly lunches. Oh my god, I would ask if you were joking but that is so you oppa,” Soojung had giggled across the phone line with a fond tone in her voice. Joonmyun had vaguely heard Sehun wheezing in the background: “There’s no helping Jongdae-hyung now!”
There had been the sound of a smack as Soojung had presumably shoved Sehun over, “Oh shut up you, it’s cute. Don’t be mean.”
“People eat lunch together all the time,” Joonmyun had said, feeling oddly defensive.
“Yes,” agreed Soojung. “But usually not Lunches. Especially prescheduled bimonthly ones.”
“Well, Jongdae doesn’t seem to mind them…”
“Of course he doesn’t,” Sehun had interjected. There had been a funny twist to his words, something else besides the repressed mirth in his voice. “He never minds.”
“And you shouldn’t either,” Soojung had said before Joonmyun could comment on it. “We’re both just poking fun at you, but there’s nothing wrong with bimonthly lunches or what-have-you. You guys just do you, alright?” And that had been that.
Still, Joonmyun had worried about it for a while after, had been ready to cancel their next few lunches, but then he had his first time jump a week later and Joonmyun suddenly had far more immediate things to stress about.
He’s glad he hadn’t canceled the lunches though. Because Jongdae’s amused smile and familiar presence is soothing and Joonmyun doesn’t really know what he would do without it.
“How much did you drink last night? You kind of look like shit,” Jongdae says, reaching across the table to try to pry off Joonmyun’s sunglasses. Joonmyun dodges weakly to the side, self-consciously pushing his sunglasses higher up his nose.
“Enough to feel like shit too,” he croaks.
Jongdae lets out a small huff of exasperation before relenting and leaning back into his seat. “What is it this time?” Jongdae asks. “You only ever do this when you’re stressed out like hell. I mean, I thought you just meant you had the drinking-after-work hangover when you texted this morning, so I picked up the Americano. But this is totally the I-got-absolutely-sloshed kind of hangover.”
“Just a lot of personal things,” Joonmyun deflects. “But really let’s not focus on my problems; I rehashed them enough with Kyungsoo last night. How is your MCing gig going?”
Jongdae frowns for second, ignoring the question, mouth pursed and looking like he wants to push the issue before he crosses his arms with a full-body sigh. “Okay, fine, we won’t talk about it but you do know you can come to me if you need anything right?” Jongdae pouts.
Joonmyun chuckles fondly, “Yes, Jongdae, don’t worry about it. I feel like I’ve been letting you take care of me too much as it is.”
“Don’t say unnecessary things.” Jongdae rolls his eyes. At that moment, the waitress comes over with their orders and sets down a bowl of black bean noodles in front of Jongdae and a bowl of beef seaweed soup in front of Joonmyun along with the side dishes.
“I was supposed to get the jjajangmyeon too,” Joonmyun tries to protest. The waitress turns to look at him and pointedly nods to his obviously hungover face: “You need the soup more than you need the noodles right now,” she comments and he flushes.
Joonmyun makes a face once she leaves and pokes a spoon despondently into his soup. Jongdae shoves a mouthful of noodles into his mouth and grins smugly over at Joonmyun. They eat in silence for a while before Jongdae speaks up once again.
“Really though, talk to me about things okay?”
“Okay,” Joonmyun half-heartedly promises because his problem wasn’t really something he could talk about without sounding half-insane. “I will. So, your MCing?” He prods.
Jongdae looks exasperated, maybe even slightly hurt, but he launches dutifully enough into a story about his new MCing position for a weekend variety show program, and soon enough Joonmyun is too busy laughing to wonder about how long he has left before his next time jump.
///
Some moments were worse to revisit than others.
There is a part of Joonmyun that shrink in on itself every time he realizes he has gone back to his SM years. The trainee days are hard to stomach; hours of back-to-back idol instruction alongside continual criticism has Joonmyun biting his tongue in frustration long before his time is up. It never takes much before the other trainees start glancing at him in curiosity as he messes up choreo that they had just learned the day previous or when he forgets schedules that they were briefed on an hour prior. Joonmyun usually tries for nonchalance and profuse apologies, and after a few times nobody seems to take care anymore though Joonmyun occasionally sees raised eyebrows or slight smirks filled with derision. It’s tough but manageable.
It is on the days when Joonmyun slips into awareness and realizes that he is once again with EXO, however, that Joonmyun just wants to lock himself in the dorm and hide. Sometimes he realizes immediately because Lu Han’s laugh is loud and ringing in his ears as he comes to or because Chanyeol’s palm is spread across his back, warm and supportive, like it still belongs there. Other times, Joonmyun stumbles into the dorm kitchen, groggy at 4 am, and has no clue whether this was their before or if it was their after where silence reigned supreme and he was one of the last ones left behind.
Fans back home, in the future, the present, the ones who still believed in an OT-whatever, would probably cry tears and say that Joonmyun was afraid of losing his family all over again. Because these were the brothers that he had shed blood and sweat and tears with; this was “one, two, three, EXO saranghaja” and that love bleeding out of their bodies as the industry sucked them dry. But Joonmyun is 41, old by idol standards, and ripe for marriage if the constant variety questions are anything to go by. He’s old and any sense of betrayal or loss has numbed with time and scabbed over with hushed apologies across disposable phone lines.
“I have made my peace, haven’t I?” he thinks as he watches Sehun tackle Zitao onto the couch, the pair wrestling for control of the television. “So what purpose does this serve?” The year is 2013, weeks before the group’s first ever comeback and Joonmyun has slipped back to pre-Growl era for the third time.
He was currently squished in between Chanyeol and Yifan on the floor of the living room, the whole group lounging in front of the television for a late night, pre-comeback, movie. It was a toss-up between Iron Man and the Avengers and mainly unresolved because neither of the maknaes were willing to relinquish the remote control and everyone else was either too tired or amused to take it from them.
“Yah, just pick a movie already!” Baekhyun shouted and it was loud enough for Zitao to startle, the remote slipping from his fingers only to be snatched up gleefully by Sehun who immediately chose Iron Man.
Joonmyun tucks his chin into his chest as the movie plays, hoping to get this over with as quickly as possible. He’s overheating a little from the combined warmth of Chanyeol and Yifan on either side of him and he knows that if he were to let himself do so, he could easily sink into that warmth and relax, let the movie and the moment wash over him. And that was dangerous because this couldn’t last, wouldn’t last and Joonmyun didn’t want to rip open a scar that he thought he had healed long ago. So he folds into himself like he’s about to fall asleep and ignores the way the boys next to him shift easily to make him more comfortable, like this was normal and easy and routine.
He ignores the way it makes his throat close up a little in regret, closes his eyes and tries to forget. The world lurches away from underneath Joonmyun some time later and it is only then that he lets himself open his eyes.
///
There’s a light on in the hallway when Joonmyun wakes up. He’s pretty sure he turned everything off before he had collapsed into bed but maybe he’d forgotten the lights to the side of the living room again. He eases himself quietly out from under his sheets, sleep-slow and still exhausted, before he takes a habitual glance at the alarm clock on his bedside table. 10 p.m., it reads, and Joonmyun wants to groan because it looks like he had missed out on all of his appointments during the jump. He checks his phone and winces at the numerous missed calls from his manager.
Noise coming from the direction of the kitchen distracts him and has Joonmyun tiptoeing cautiously out of the bedroom. The rest of the apartment is completely silent and Joonmyun’s pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to be entertaining guests tonight. He hoped to the high heavens this wasn’t a saesang. He has not had to deal with break-ins in years purely because the security at this complex was so high, but he wouldn’t put it past the most determined “fan” to get in. He really didn’t want to deal with that right now.
Fortunately for him, the figure in front of the refrigerator was very familiar and Joonmyun nearly sags in relief.
“Jongdae?”
There’s a bang and a hiss as Jongdae hits his head against the fridge door while turning around. His eyes are wide with shock as he blinks owlishly at Joonmyun across the countertop. There are plastic convenience store bags around his feet and a bottle of fresh milk in his hand. The light coming from the fridge throws his face into shadow.
“I-I thought you were out for the night?” Jongdae croaks out eventually, a sheepish grin on his face. “Didn’t you have an appointment?”
“I was feeling kind of tired today,” Joonmyun lies, “So I canceled it. You’re the one who has been restocking my fridge? I thought it was Kyungsoo.”
“Oh. Yeah, no, it was me,” Jongdae mumbles. “If you’re not feeling too well you should go back to bed. I’ll be done real quick and right out of your hair.”
Joonmyun twists his fingers together thoughtfully, looking at Jongdae, “No, actually, I’m feeling like I kind of want to go out now. I skipped dinner, so what do you think about getting some chicken and beer and heading to over to the Han River?”
Jongdae hums lightly for a second, a look of consideration on his face, but Joonmyun had seen the way he had perked up at the mention of the river and knew what the answer was going to be.
“Okay, but you’re paying!” Jongdae teases and Joonmyun nods expectantly.
///
There is a surprisingly few amount of people camped out on the river bank when they arrive but Joonmyun attributes it to the cold and the fact that it was a work day. They walk for a long time, making light conversation and drinking a little before finding a spot far away enough that they probably wouldn’t be spotted by any nosy passersby.
“Can I ask you a question?” Joonmyun asks, once they have gotten comfortable.
Jongdae sends him a look as if to say “you just did” or “just ask it” so Joonmyun gives a small awkward smile before speaking again.
“What would you have done,” Joonmyun asks slowly, “if you had never become a singer?”
Jongdae chuckles, “Are we playing 101 interview questions, hyung? I’m not even tipsy yet.”
“I’m serious.”
There’s a pause as Jongdae looks up from his beer can to squint at Joonmyun’s face in consideration. Whatever he finds there makes the humor in his eyes sober and he clears his throat awkwardly.
“I probably would have gone to university for some type of liberal arts degree,” Jongdae shrugs, “Would have done Friday night acapella gigs in Sinchon, and gotten a cushy office job while part-timing at a records store.”
“Jongdae, I said to be serious,” Joonmyun says.
“I am. Is it really that hard to believe? I don’t think I could ever give up music completely. Someway, somehow, I would have still have found a way back to it.”
Joonmyun chews on his bottom lip as he thinks those words over. Someway, somehow, huh?
“Why are you asking though?” Jongdae questions.
“It’s nothing,” he says quickly, the words automatically out of his mouth. He winces as Jongdae gives him a disbelieving look, eyebrows halfway up his forehead. “Okay. It’s not…nothing. It’s just. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, you know?”
“I feel like I'm not really getting anywhere with my career right now. The industry is chock full of fresh blood and the amount of new scripts that I get sent keep dwindling every month. There’s also just been a bunch of other…things…lately that just make me feel regretful. Like what would have happened if I hadn’t pursued music, if I hadn’t tried auditioning or sticking it out for over six years of training? Would I feel any better off?” Joonmyun muses.
Jongdae is quiet for a long moment. The sound of soft laughter from the few people still around them drifts over along with the night breeze and Joonmyun reflexively touches a finger to the brim of his cap to tip it further down. It’s pointless, really, what with the waning moon covered by a smattering of clouds and the streetlights throwing everything else into shadow, but there’s comfort in the habit so Joonmyun does nothing more than trace the brim of his hat for a moment before letting his hand drop.
He starts badly, though, when Jongdae reaches over to cover it with his own. Jongdae’s hands are warm despite the eleven p.m. chill, callused palms barely resting along the back of Joonmyun’s hands as if Jongdae, himself, wasn’t sure if this was okay.
“Do you remember back when we first won on Music Bank?” Jongdae asks.
Joonmyun’s gone back to that moment at least two times and even without supernatural aid it is easy for him to remember the whirlwind affair of their first win.
“Everyone thought you were fake-crying with all of that snot dribbling down your face-you even said you exaggerated a bit-but I saw you after the rest of us left to head to the vans,” Jongdae smiles a little, “You were hunched over in the same spot Jongin had been sobbing in. You weren’t crying anymore but your eyes were red rimmed and there were still tissues clutched in your hand; you had the happiest look on your face though and you were singing. It was Wolf. Your voice was shot from all of the tears and the yelling, you cracked on the high notes, and you sounded ridiculous because Wolf was ridiculous but you were grinning as you sang the whole song.”
Jongdae turns his head to look across the river where the twinkling city lights blended together on the waters' surface. “I don’t know when that happiness slipped away from you. Or when you had started to forget that that joy had existed but the you of that time had loved what you were doing. And it wasn't a singularly unique moment either. You laughed a lot more than you cried or got angry back then. You still do. It might not seem like it to you but it's true. Your resilience is one of the things that I admire about you the most,” he admits quietly.
Joonmyun swallows dryly, a little unsure of what to do. On one hand, Joonmyun wants to refute what Jongdae has said, wants to deny that admiration because he doesn’t feel worthy of it. On the other hand though, Joonmyun kind of wants cry because Jongdae, Kim Jongdae with his sun-bright smiles and unwavering optimism, admired him.
“But you’re always so positive,” Joonmyun says with a wobble in his voice.
“Not always,” Jongdae corrects. “The years haven’t left me unmarked either, hyung. I almost gave up when after my vocal cord surgery six years back, you know. It took so long for me to recover and by then it seemed like my time in industry had passed.”
“But I had my family behind me, and my company’s support. I had the well-wishes of all of our friends and I still had my love for music. I also had you.” Jongdae punctuates the statement with a hand squeeze. “You kept supporting me with little messages and terrible porridge and song recommendations for me to cover when I got better. And those things kept me going. Which is why I want you to know that I’m here for you too. That you’re worth it.”
Joonmyun closes his eyes and blinks back the tears. Maybe he could talk about this to Jongdae after all. Even if it didn’t do anything, didn’t get rid of the supernatural weirdness, at least Joonmyun would have let someone else by his side to share the burden. Maybe this was what he had needed all along: to truly let go of his regrets one by one. To finally move on.
“Okay,” Joonmyun starts. “I have a crazy story to tell….”
- Joonmyun is 41 and Jongdae is 38 in this fic.
- EXO disbanded in 2020 and shortly afterward Joonmyun left SM and pursued a career in acting, putting that degree he got at KNU to good use
- I didn't get to this but Jongdae is a solo artist at another company and is a prominent face in variety programs
- The little bit about Joonmyun going back to 1999 and talking about the world ending is a reference to the Y2K technology scare
- Thank you for reading!