(for bluedreaming) Wherever My Heart Touches (Wherever That Is), I Will Go [4/4]
Title: Wherever My Heart Touches (Wherever That Is), I Will Go
part four
The convenience store that Jongin worked at sat on the corner of two busy streets, so it wasn’t often empty. Still, there was nothing more boring than pretending to rearrange cough medicine, waiting for a customer to come up to the counter to be rung out.
The manager thought highly of Jongin, though, praising him for being a hard worker and always on time. There wasn’t much to it, though, so Jongin felt uncomfortable with both the compliments and the complaints of his coworkers.
Mostly Jongin felt tired. He didn’t expect to know what he wanted by now, either, but he had hoped to have a better idea. Instead, his feet just hurt and he worked overnight shifts that screwed up his sleep pattern. And he was still confused.
He also got into the habit of jumping when the bell on the door rang, because the convenience store was close to a local television news station, and once in a while reporters came in for aspirin or water bottles. He always hid in the back aisles, afraid that they’d recognize him some day. It was irrational and ridiculous, possibly even verging on Jongin thinking too highly of himself, but once in a while the articles popped up again. Sometimes there were even blurry pictures, and Jongin squinted, wondering if that really is his sweatshirt or some photoshopped image.
His coworkers just shrugged and carried on like normal.
There’s Taemin, who teased him for startling so easily, and Joy, who was even younger than him and still in high school. Amber was a student studying online for a computer science degree while she helped out her family during the day. Chilhyun was older than all of them, having worked through the ranks to become supervisor of the convenience store, but he acted like a kid most of the time.
Jongin was pretty sure that he didn’t want to be a manager and deal with annoying customers for the rest of his life. Taemin, who was working while taking the entrance exams again, shrugged. “Whatever works, works,” he said in response.
The bell rang and Jongin stopped fighting with the ticket gun to peer over the shelves. He needn’t have bothered. “Jongin, your boyfriend is here!” Amber called, the mischief apparent in her voice. Joy giggled.
Jongin checked his phone, but Minseok was always on time. He nodded at Minseok, who politely fended off Amber’s questions as Jongin collected the items from his locker into his knapsack.
“See you later,” Joy squeaked, before running away. Jongin and Minseok always waited to leave the store before squabbling over who exactly Joy had a crush on. Jongin was sure it was Minseok, but Minseok graciously said it was Jongin instead.
Minseok often picked up Jongin, wanting to continue their old tradition, he explained sheepishly. Minseok had found a small job doing art design for the local paper, but it was only part-time and so he was still looking around.
“How was your day?” Jongin asked, but Minseok was distracted and barely answered.
Instead, Minseok asked about Sehun. Sehun and Jongin still emailed, but their frequency had mostly trailed off. Sehun was busy with classes during the week and parties on the weekend, and Jongin just didn’t know what to say anymore.
Jongin didn’t say that, though. He had finally introduced the two of them after Sehun had whined; it was no surprise that they had hit it off right away. “He’s fine,” Jongin said shortly. “Busy with stuff, doesn’t email often, but I’m sure he’s okay.”
“I see,” Minseok said slowly. They talked a little about the weather, and how sunny it had been for the last few days; Minseok told him about a particular editor that had given him trouble about a layout that he had made. “Said it didn’t use the space allotted appropriately,” he said, grimacing. “I don’t think I can stand this job much longer.”
Minseok invited Jongin to his house, and Jongin agreed. He felt strange, making out like teenagers with Minseok in his bedroom, and he was sure that Minseok’s parents - and his own parents - knew.
Because he didn’t want to share Minseok. He wanted to hide their relationship, hide even Minseok away, because sometimes it felt like if people knew, if they were forthcoming and told their parents about it, that it would ruin everything. Jongin knew that his mother would be ecstatic, and his father, well, something. But he didn’t know how to explain the dread within him that maybe everyone’s expectations would mess them up.
He didn’t tell Minseok about it, in case Minseok thought he was crazy, or worse, childish. Jongin himself just chalked his apprehension up to some weird case of jealousy - but of what, Jongin wasn’t sure.
Minseok’s mother was a housemaker, and therefore home when the two of them entered. Minseok made no effort to excuse themselves to go upstairs as they normally did, so Jongin sat at the table with Minseok and his mother, talking about random things.
They mostly guided the conversation, looking to Jongin to comment from time to time. Minseok’s mother looked on fondly, and Jongin felt like he was pins and needles, about to fall and break something important. He didn’t know why - he had known Minseok’s mother since he was a child, of course.
Minseok’s father returned at about six, and Jongin said hello and then turned to Minseok. “I think I should be heading home,” he began.
“Jongin, stay for dinner-” Minseok’s mother offered, and Jongin was ready to decline.
But Minseok’s hand closed over his. “I wanted to tell all of you something,” Minseok blurted out, and Jongin was terrified that he was going to tell his parents about the two of them. Instead, Minseok said, “You know that post I interviewed for, at the museum in the city? They called back today and offered me the job.”
Minseok’s father was the first to react, clapping Minseok on the back. Then his mother wrapped his arms around him. “I’m so proud of you!” she exclaimed.
“Congratulations, hyung,” Jongin said, because Minseok was looking at him worriedly. At that, Minseok’s face smoothed into relief.
“You definitely have to stay now,” Minseok’s father said, and his mother chimed in until Jongin was seated at the table, a full plate of curry and rice sitting in front of him.
Jongin didn’t want to share, but how could he not when Minseok was leaving again?
They work in tandem, Jongin bringing the two of them back to the hill again before Tao takes them to the present. Jongin can barely note the darkening sky, the heavy clouds, before Tao is pressing up against a tree, kissing him again.
He pulls back when Jongin responds, though. Jongin’s skin feels raw, like he can feel all of Tao’s emotions boiling up with in him. It’s crushing, more than he can take.
“What time is it?” he asks.
Tao consults his watch, and just by the way his face falls, he knows that they are in trouble.
They run back through the town, breathless. Tao lets out a shout, and Jongin grins. But the gallery is closed, dark. The restaurant is the same. “He’s already gone home,” Jongin says.
Tao opens the door, and they get Jongin’s bicycle. Tao’s too heavy to sit on the handlebars or perch on the back, so they’re forced to walk. It takes too much time, more than Jongin is comfortable with.
Minseok is putting water to boil on the stove when they try to sneak in. “I didn’t know that you two were so close,” he says.
Tao freezes, and Jongin runs into him. They both glare at each other.
“Kyungsoo told me you both left very quickly, like you had something to do,” Minseok continues. “I thought I’d wait, but then I realized you weren’t going to be back for a while.”
Tao and Jongin look at each other. Jongin doesn’t know why, but he knows that this is something that he can’t tell Minseok about - not about the spontaneous kissing, but because it’s something he wants to keep between him and Tao.
“We wanted to get to know each other better,” Tao offers, but it sounds more like a question.
“That’s nice,” Minseok says, “considering I wasn’t sure that you were getting along.” Jongin winces at that. He knew that Minseok would have sensed the tension between them, but he hoped that for once, Minseok would turn a blind eye.
“Hyung,” Tao says playfully, but there’s a slight edge. “Say what you mean, otherwise Jongin and I won’t understand.”
Minseok’s shoulders brace, then lower. “It’s nothing. I’m glad that you two are getting along, now.” He turns and smiles at them. “So, where did you go?”
Tao looks at Jongin. But Jongin’s brain doesn’t seem to be working. “Just outside of town.”
“There’s a hill,” Tao supplies. “Jongin just wanted to show me the view from there.”
Minseok’s eyes flash briefly. He knows, Junmyeon must have told him, Jongin realizes. His heart sinks. Minseok must know that that’s Jongin’s place, where he always used to teleport from, where he practiced, where he got over his fear.
Jongin has never brought Minseok there. And Jongin knows that Minseok understands more than just the importance of the hill - he knows that Jongin brought Tao somewhere, somewhere Minseok has never been.
“Well,” Minseok says, turning away. “I hope it was a nice view, considering it got dark quickly after you left the gallery.” Minseok doesn’t say anything more, but Tao reacts like he’s been stung.
Tao looks at Jongin, but Jongin doesn’t know what to say. “Hyung,” he tries.
“Why don’t you two wash up?” Minseok says, spooning in coffee. Jongin is pretty sure that Minseok doesn’t need that much powder, but maybe Minseok’s not actually thinking about the amount of coffee he’s putting in the pot. “I’ll make some dinner for you guys, unless you’ve eaten something?”
“No,” Jongin says. “We haven’t.” At least that, he can tell Minseok truthfully.
“Good,” Minseok says. And that’s that.
Minseok is not good at talking up strangers, convincing them to buy paintings and sculptures. He is not good at convincing investors that the gallery is a worthwhile venture. But he is decent, and Tao’s photographs do the rest of the work.
Though having Tao himself there doesn’t hurt. He’s dressed in a nice sports coat and spends most of the evening flirting with women of all ages in the gallery, most of whom hail Minseok to fork an enormous amount of money over as soon as Tao slips away. Jongin doesn’t know what to make of it.
He’s a little dazzled by the lights and the sounds and the alcohol that Tao had pressed into his hands. The gallery has been fixed up well, and all the mismatched pieces that Jongin could see coming together, out of the corner of his eye, are so much more in the whole than they were as individual parts. The bronze light fixtures set off the frames, drawing attention to the art, as should be the case. The harsh footfalls of the guests on the pale hardwood almost echo the subject matter.
There certainly are no children here tonight, Jongin chuckles wryly to himself. He narrows his eyes at one painting, which appears to portray Tao seducing Cleopatra.
Jongin doesn’t know how Tao could stand her nose, large and bulbous. For art, Jongin imagines Tao saying shamelessly.
“Okay?” Minseok mouths at Jongin, from across the room, nodding distractedly at the woman standing next to him.
Minseok has said nothing of what had transpired between Jongin and Tao. But he has thrown himself almost punishingly into making the gallery into the best showcase for Tao’s art that he can.
Jongin wonders if Minseok is really asking for Jongin to save him from the woman instead. He gets up, but a hand wraps around his waist, pulling him close.
“Jongin,” Tao chides, “be nice and make friends.” He takes the drink in Jongin’s hand and tips it down his throat.
Jongin folds his arms. “You have to do that to make money. I’m just here to watch you flirt-”
“Ah, Mr. Huang,” they hear. A short middle-aged man shakes both of their hands.
Tao’s hand tightens around Jongin’s side. “He’s a prominent art critic. Don’t say anything, just smile.” Jongin plasters an uncomfortable grin on his face, but Tao has nothing to fear.
“Your art tonight is amazing!” He shakes off Tao’s thanks. “Truly inspiring, innovative. You’ve really broken the boundaries!”
Tao is blushing profusely, and Jongin thinks it’s hilarious. Then the critic turns to Jongin. “And this must be your muse! I think I saw him, in one of the studies?”
Jongin barely keeps himself from frowning. “Ah, no,” Tao says. “He’s the husband of the gallery owner, my friend.”
“Oh,” the critic says, abashed. “Well, good luck Mr. Huang. I look forward to what you will do in the future.” He waves a hand to them and walks away, joining another woman in the foyer who gives him a coat.
Tao quickly involves himself in another conversation, while Jongin turns, trying to look for Minseok. But Minseok is nowhere to be seen.
Or rather, he finds Minseok in a set of photographs. Jongin has not seen this Minseok for a long time; young and thinner, with more hair, to be honest. His smile is easy, and there are no wrinkles in his face. He stands by the edge of a fence, staring at another man, who Jongin recognizes to be himself.
It’s strange how people change in three years. Time had passed quickly, but now he realizes that maybe it has taken its toll on both of them in its wake. He looks at the pair of them in the first, staring sappily at each other as Minseok’s hand fumbles over Jongin’s.
Tao is nowhere to be seen.
In the second photograph, Jongin is staring out of the picture, as if he had seen the flash of the camera. Jongin racks his head, wondering if he had seen some kind of flicker of light that night. But there in the right hand corner, is Tao taking a disconnected selca of the whole thing. His eyes are bright and burning as they always are. But the illusion makes him appear to be looking at Tao, with the emotion that he had felt at the time for Minseok. That he still feels.
The set is titled The Bystander.
Jongin reels. It is one thing to know that Tao is a time traveler. It is another to think that he has seen the most private moments of Jongin and Minseok’s relationship. Jongin wonders if Minseok has seen it, if he knows what is hanging in his own gallery.
But he must have, for there is a hastily jabbed sticker on the title plaque, reading “Not for sale.”
Jongin doesn’t get a chance to ask Minseok about it for the rest of the night. As more stickers appear on the walls, listing some pieces as sold, others as being on hold, the crowd dwindles.
Tao cheers as he races around the gallery. “This is awesome!” he shouts.
Minseok sighs, head sinking into his arms on the bar. “I’m glad you think so,” he says, clearly tired. Jongin rubs his back, and Minseok curves into the warmth of his hand. Jongin’s stomach flips.
Junmyeon and Seohyun get up wearily and say their goodbyes. “It’s okay if you don’t show up tomorrow,” Junmyeon says blearily to Jongin, who blushes hard. “I’d understand.”
“Alright, it’s time to go home,” Seohyun says, hauling his arm over her shoulder. But she still smiles at Jongin, who tries to return the favor.
Only he personally watched Seohyun tip back an extreme number of shots, so he’s mildly bewildered as to how she’s still walking.
Krystal follows Kyungsoo into the restaurant, under the pretense of closing up. Minseok gets up and slams the door to the gallery shut when they start hearing inappropriate noises. “I don’t understand why he’s my partner,” he tells Jongin.
Tao’s suit is rumpled, and his hair is falling a little flat, but his grin cannot be repressed. “This is awesome,” he repeats, eyes glinting like the first time Jongin saw him.
“Yup,” Minseok says listlessly, staring at the ceiling.
“Don’t act like such an old man,” Tao chides. “Come on, let’s open a bottle of wine to celebrate!” He climbs over the bar, and Minseok doesn’t even stop him, only watching despondently as Tao pours a shaky three glasses worth of champagne.
“I hate champagne,” Minseok grunts. Jongin would beg to differ, consider what Jongin remembers of their wedding, but he merely takes the proffered glass, staring at the bubbles.
He listens to Tao, so high that Jongin thinks that he’ll probably never deflate. The alcohol improves Minseok’s mood, until he’s laughing at Tao and they’re telling stories about school again.
“Remember that old harpy Rho?” Minseok asks. “She hated how self-aggrandizing your work was.” He imitates the woman’s voice, but Jongin isn’t sure that any woman actually sounds like that.
Tao laughs. “What did she know, she liked Lee’s popsicle stick crap more,” he replies. Then his face twists and his voice arcs up primly. “They remind me of the phallic structures in the work of Edvin Öhrström-” and there is definitely no way that Professor Rho could have made a sound like that.
Minseok dissolves into laughter though, all the same. Rho sounds like a piece of work, Jongin has to admit.
“I always imagined making art with you,” Tao hiccups. “I didn’t really know how, because we use such different mediums, but I figured there would be a way. I’m glad that we at least did this, instead.”
Minseok falls silent at that. Jongin decides to gulp down some of his champagne. It’s flat now, after so long, but the rush is enough to drive any analytical thought from his head.
But the champagne’s not enough to make him forget when Tao leans over the bar and kisses Minseok full on the mouth. Minseok pushes Tao away quickly, wiping his hand over his mouth and glancing at Jongin. “What are you doing, Tao?” he hisses.
Jongin just sits on his stool, stunned. He feels hurt and jealous and strangely aroused all at the same time, a kaleidoscope of feelings fighting within him.
Tao barely looks at him. “Hyung, did you see the photo I put in?” he asks. “I added it, last minute. I wanted you to see it. I’ve thought about you, since school.”
He clearly cannot sense the anger rising in Minseok, but Jongin can. “Tao,” he tries to say. “I don’t think-”
But he doesn’t actually know what he was going to say, and Tao keeps going. “Hyung, I love Jongin.”
Jongin is not expecting Minseok to punch Tao in the face, but that is what Minseok does.
Minseok backs away, and Jongin tries to reach out to him, but Minseok shakes him off. And that hurts more than watching Minseok or Tao kiss, or Tao’s stupid black eye. It hurts when Minseok pushes him away.
“Not now, Jongin,” Minseok says, already moving way, out of Jongin’s grasp. “I can’t do this right now.”
And then he’s gone.
“Shit, that hurts,” Jongin hears, and sees Tao swiping a hand against the bruise and looking at it.
Jongin doesn’t care. “Why did you do that?” he asks.
“What?” Tao asks. And that’s exactly it. Tao has done too much to point to a specific moment where Jongin can say, here, here is you screwed everything up.
It couldn’t really be called a proposal, Jongin thought.
It was a few days after Minseok had accepted the job offer, and he had already been to see the nearby area, scouting for apartments and all the things he needed to live on his own. He had invited Jongin along, but Jongin had pretended that he couldn’t get someone to cover his shifts.
Sehun was already gone, and Minseok was leaving. Jongin didn’t want to make this about him, he wanted to be happy for Minseok, but a small part of him was angry. At Sehun, at Minseok, but most of all, himself.
Minseok had walked him home that night, and Jongin’s parents had invited him inside, but Minseok had politely declined. He was going to drive in to the city tomorrow, he explained, to fill out some paperwork that his employers had asked for.
That didn’t align with the text that vibrated Jongin’s phone at approximately 11:38 pm. Come down, it read simply.
Jongin peeked through the blinds to see Minseok’s father’s car in the driveway, the headlights cut so Jongin’s parents wouldn’t know. He put on a shirt and went downstairs, stuffing his feet in sneakers before locking the door behind him.
“You have a key, right?” Minseok asked, as he slipped into the passenger seat. Jongin gave him a look as he dangled the spare key in front of him. “Okay, okay,” he said, carefully backing out of the driveway.
He didn’t turn on the headlights until they were on the main road. Jongin didn’t ask what was going on. Minseok rolled down the windows as they drove, farther and farther into the countryside.
They were only ten miles from Jongin’s house, but Jongin had never been out this far. It made him uneasy as they passed houses and gas stations that Jongin didn’t know, even though Minseok never turned off the main road.
At last Minseok pulled into a construction site, stopping beside a white fence. The two of them got out and leaned against it, while Jongin waited for Minseok to speak.
“Jongin, I’m going to leave soon,” Minseok began, and Jongin’s fingers tightened in the grass.
Please don’t ask to break up, he thought silently.
“After what happened, you never left this town,” Minseok continued. “I know that you’re afraid to try new things, and that you don’t know what you want to do next. But I thought that while you decided - you could come with me, live with me.”
Jongin didn’t say anything. Minseok, obviously mistaking his silence, rushed on. “Our parents, they like the idea of us, they know about us. I think they’d let us go, if we asked, but we’ve known each other for such a long time. And I know that you’re young” -there it is again, that word, Jongin thought bitterly- “but I think we feel the same way. I think, that for me, you’re it. You’re the only one.”
Minseok swallowed. “I know that you know, in university, I met other people and did stuff. And Sehun’s told me about the girls and boys you dated.” Jongin’s head jerked up. “But you’re different, for me, Jongin. There can’t be anyone else.”
Jongin’s mouth wasn’t working, or else he’d have shouted “Yes!” at Minseok already.
“If you’re not sure,” Minseok said at last, “maybe we could try, three years? And then, if it isn’t working, we can go our separate ways.” He sighed out, and it sounded like torture. “But no matter what, Jongin, I will always be your friend.”
He thought of the snatches of Minseok he remembered as a child, older and taller in a red raincoat, showing Jongin how to make sandcastles with wet sand. He thought of the teenager who made time for Jongin, who was amazed by his coolness - who visited Jongin in the hospital after the “incident.” There’s the Minseok who played soccer and bought him bubble tea, and the one on the bus who had to relearn Jongin as a person when he returned from university. And then there’s this Minseok who Jongin had come to know over the last few months, who Jongin has come to love in his own way.
He wasn’t sure if his love was like Minseok’s love, whatever that was. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to get married, of all things. But he wanted to be with Minseok, and he didn’t think that was as childish as it sounded.
Still, his tongue seemed to be useless. He heard Minseok saying, “Jongin? Jongin?” but he turned his head instead, seeing a flash of light in the darkness. Probably a radio tower in the distance-
“Jongin,” he hears, but instead it’s Tao in front of him. “Are you alright? You look pale.”
Jongin glares at him, but it’s Tao, looking awfully sober. So instead he just gets a little teary-eyed, to his eternal horror. “Jongin, I’m sorry, please.”
Jongin looks around the gallery, at all of the photographs. But of all of them - “Why that one?” Jongin demands. “Why did you take a picture of us?”
Tao stares back at him. “Would you change that moment, if you could?”
Jongin hurts so much right now, and his hesitation is enough for Tao, who looks away. “I messed up,” Tao says, as if he can’t quiet himself. “I’m sorry.”
The restaurant is quiet. Kyungsoo and Krystal must have gone home, somewhere between glasses of champagne. “I remember the flash,” Jongin tells. “The flash of your camera.”
Tao takes a breath, then seizes hold of Jongin’s wrist. Instantly, he’s plunged into the time stream again, and it’s not so much as seeing Tao as feeling his presence. It’s so dark and claustrophobic, and Jongin senses that it must be in part due to Tao’s own emotions.
“Let’s go back,” Tao says. “To that moment.”
At first, Jongin doesn’t understand what Tao is asking, but then he does. He calls out to the space continuum, and they both gasp as the manifestations of their powers intertwine. The electricity of space meshes with the fluidness of time - it is both hot and cool, bright and dark, winding around them endlessly.
It is amazing, but Jongin is still sad that Minseok is not there. “Concentrate,” Tao says. Jongin can see him, his hair ruffling and sparkling with rush of the space current.
He blinks, and they’re feet away from his younger self and Minseok, sitting against the fence. “Jongin, I’m going to leave soon,” Minseok says.
Both Jongins close their eyes.
But Tao is a heavy warmth by his side. “I didn’t get it,” Tao says, and Jongin opens his eyes, focuses on Tao. “I didn’t understand why Minseok went home to be with you. I never told him how I felt, because it was always you. Everyone else was just a distraction.”
Jongin looks at him. “But you came back, to watch us?” It sounds like self-flagellation, for a crime never committed.
“I wanted to know what was so special about you, even more special than the art that Minseok made,” Tao says, watching the two by the fence talk quietly in the night, by the light of the car headlights. “I wanted to know why I lost to you. I watched you two, over and over. I was at your wedding, you know.”
Jongin tries to remember, a year after this day, greeting Tao in the receiving line with Minseok at his side. He can’t.
“I came back the night before, tried to pluck up the courage to say something - but nothing,” Tao says. “But I didn’t really understand, until I came to stay with you. I didn’t realize - in the gallery, I didn’t know it was you. Your hair is different. You walk differently now. I only knew when Minseok brought me to your house.
“I could tell your relationship was messed up, and I thought that it was the perfect opportunity. I took the picture - I accepted the gallery offer not only to help out Minseok, but to convince him to leave you.” It hurts Jongin to hear it, what he already knew. “But it didn’t work.”
Tao takes Jongin’s hand. “I still don’t really know enough to put it into words,” Tao explains. “But somehow I fell in love with you, so I must have understood it along the way.”
Jongin can only stare. “You love both of us?” Tao nods miserably. “And you watched us here, so many times?”
“Why are you so hung up on that?” Tao exclaims, frustrated.
Jongin laughs. “You stalker!”
“You asshole!” Tao replies, then covers his mouth in horror. Jongin can’t stop laughing. “Stop! You and Minseok will hear us!”
It’s too ridiculous. But then the younger Jongin’s head turns, and Tao dives on top of Jongin, bringing them both close to the ground. Jongin scans the tree line, looking, looking - there, by a thick copse, he can see a shape that looks suspiciously like Tao, dark and mysterious in that silly overcoat like before.
“Jongin? Jongin?” Minseok calls, and the younger Jongin slowly looks back. Tao and Jongin sit up, carefully pulling apart.
Tao looks at Jongin, waiting. This is the moment, Jongin realizes. The last moment Jongin can take to change the way everything happened, to erase the last three years and find himself when he goes back in a completely different life.
But for all Tao should understand about time, Jongin knows that if he said something now to his younger self, the place he would return to would not be the place where he would want to be.
He’s always known that he has to build that place for himself, but now Jongin understands more than ever.
He watches his younger self, paralyzed by fear. It was terribly unfair of Minseok to spring that kind of question on him, without some kind of warning, he thinks wryly.
He knows the exact moment that the coil unwinds, that the younger Jongin’s shoulders relax. “Yes. Yeah, let’s try.”
Beside him, Tao seizes his hand. Instantly Jongin calls out. The streams mesh, and Jongin has never felt like this before, like he can do anything.
He looks up to see Tao, eyes hurt as if someone has slashed at them. There’s a click in the back of Jongin’s head, and then Tao lets go of his hand and steps back. Jongin sees him, the breeze of the space current wrapping around him-
-and then he blinks and finds himself in the gallery, alone.
He’s angry at Tao for a second, before realizing that he needs to find Minseok if he wants to keep both of them.
Sunyoung lives alone, so Minseok wouldn’t have bothered her. And Kyungsoo and Krystal - Jongin shudders to think of going to their house.
That leaves Seohyun and Junmyeon. Jongin teleports quickly to their stoop, ringing the doorbell insistently. Junmyeon answers the door. “What’s the emergency?” he roars, scaring Jongin. Then he rubs his eyes. “Oh, Jongin. It’s you.”
“Is Minseok there?” he whispers.
Junmyeon looks back into the house, angling his head about. He seems to receive some sort of signal before he turns around again. “He’s not here.”
Jongin would normally quail at behaving in such a way towards his manager, but now he unreservedly stares at Junmyeon. Junmyeon slides out of the way.
Minseok is sitting on the couch with Seohyun. Seohyun, seeing the determined look on Jongin’s face, gets up and pulls an interested Junmyeon away with her upstairs. “Don’t stay too long!” Seohyun calls.
“And lock the front door behind you!” Junmyeon adds.
Jongin sits down next to Minseok, who is very interested in his hands. “You didn’t have to punch Tao,” he says. They might as well start somewhere.
“Yeah, it was stupid, I know,” Minseok says. “If you wanted to leave, there was - there’s nothing I can do to hold you back.”
Jongin bites his lip. “Tao kissed you, remember? He loves you, too.” Minseok looks up at him. “Three years is a long time,” Jongin says. “I didn’t know if we were going to keep doing what we were doing - because we couldn’t keep this up, not the way we were.”
Minseok nods. “We kind of lost track of things, didn’t we?”
“I said I’d try for three years,” Jongin says. “But three years has passed so quickly. I want to keep trying, because that’s all we can do, right?” There’s the beginnings of a smile on Minseok’s mouth. “But - we should change things up a bit. Start talking, for one thing.”
Minseok kisses him, and it feels like coming home, even though they are in Junmyeon’s dark living room with a saggy leather couch, a braided rug, and weird decorations on the walls that must be Seohyun’s contribution, because they sure aren’t in the store. “I know you like Tao as well,” Jongin says when they pull apart, but not far away from each other. He can barely see Minseok’s eyelashes. “I saw you together.”
“I saw you together, as well,” Minseok replies.
“Let’s try, again?” Jongin whispers, and he can feel Minseok nodding against his forehead.
The door clicks behind them as they walk to the edge of the street. “Hopefully he’s there,” Jongin says. “At home.”
Minseok concurs. “There’s nowhere else where I could imagine him being.”
But Jongin doesn’t want to walk. The amount of time it will take will be enough to give Tao time to leave. So he takes Minseok’s hand and plunges them both in the space stream.
The space stream can sense his impatience, but points out Minseok, who seems to be flailing in surprise. “Minseok, I’m holding on to you,” Jongin calls.
“Jongin?” Minseok says, calming down. And then Jongin can see Minseok, his bright eyes taking in the surroundings.
“This is what I see what I teleport,” Jongin says. And he can see the knowledge dawn on Minseok’s face, even as Jongin tries to keep down the crawling feeling on the back of his neck, the strange intimacy of the stream.
He brings them out in their own living room. Minseok steps backwards and falls on the coffee table. Jongin can’t help but snort, remembering before.
“Shut up,” Minseok says. “We’re not all dancers like you.”
“No,” Jongin agrees. “Some of us are old men.” He jumps out of the way of the kick Minseok aims at him.
A light flickers on in the kitchen at the noise. It’s Tao, the jacket removed and worse for wear. “I’m packing up,” he says. “Give me a minute, and I’ll be out of your way.”
“Wait, Tao,” Minseok calls. But Tao isn’t in the hallway. Jongin brings Minseok to the guest room, where Tao looks when they materialize. He puts down the shirt he was folding and sighs. “I’m sorry,” he says to Minseok. “I was drunk, and stupid-”
“I kissed you,” Minseok says. “Behind the shed, when we looking for some extra plywood. That wasn’t the only time, but it was the first time.”
Tao looks at both of them. Jongin turns to Minseok. “You should tell me about that, sometime,” he says. Minseok smiles, pleased to see Jongin’s spark back.
Maybe the disappointment Jongin always saw in his parents, in Minseok, wasn’t disappointment after all? Maybe it was love. Maybe it was worry. But never pity, or disapproval. Maybe they just wanted more for Jongin, because they loved him.
Jongin turns to Tao. “If I had changed our past,” Jongin says clearly, “you wouldn’t have been in our future. We wouldn’t have been together, like this.”
Tao is confused. “But that’s the point,” he says. “I wouldn’t have-”
“That wouldn’t have been where I wanted to be,” Jongin says. Minseok squeezes his shoulder; he gets it, Jongin realizes with delight.
Jongin hopes that Tao realizes the words mean exactly what they mean - nothing more, and nothing less. It took Jongin a long time to learn that, too.
Tao, however, is as dense as always. “I don’t get it.”
It is not because Jongin doesn't love someone, or loves more someone else. Jongin is just - finally - trying to be himself.
Minseok rolls his eyes. “We want you,” he says. “Isn’t that enough?”
They have been dancing around each other for so many weeks, that it makes sense when Minseok pushes the valise off the bed and presses Tao down on the bed. Jongin hesitates at the edge, watching them nip at each other’s mouths.
It would be easy to walk away, to say, “I made a mistake.” To avoid, inevitably, getting hurt.
But Minseok turns and looks at him. Tao opens his arms. “Jongin,” he says. “Come here.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” Jongin tells Tao. Minseok smirks; Jongin swallows. He’s seen that look too many times to not know what will come next.
It takes a few trials before they align themselves in a way that makes sense. Jongin jerks Tao off, slow and steady, while Minseok prepares Tao. It’s wonderful to watch the confusion on Tao’s face, the way he disintegrates as the pleasure catches up with him. He doesn’t know whether to buck forward into Jongin’s grasp, or sink back onto Minseok’s fingers. Neither give him a choice, stroking with their own rhythm.
“Four fingers,” Minseok says. Tao moans, feeling every bit as Minseok presses inside of him, searching for a way to make Tao scream.
Jongin watches the way Tao’s pupils dilate, how his head lolls on Jongin’s shoulder. “I think he’s ready,” he says to Minseok, who nods and removes his fingers.
Tao groans, but not for long. Minseok rolls Tao onto his side and slips into him with a single thrust that knocks the breath out of Tao’s lungs. Jongin follows, wrapping his hand around his cock and Tao’s, rolling up against Tao’s hips in a way that makes Tao choke.
It’s too slow for Tao’s liking, Jongin can tell. Minseok, however, is relentless, holding onto Tao’s hips so he can’t move as Minseok thrusts sharply, hard into him. Tao’s head flops down, his bangs covering his eyes.
Jongin kisses Minseok over Tao’s shoulder, tasting the urgency in Minseok’s mouth. He’s close, Jongin realizes, and speeds up the pace.
Minseok bites down on Tao’s shoulder when he comes, sending Tao in turn over the edge.
Jongin is still hard, and it hurts. He moves to stroke his own cock, flopping over onto his back, but Minseok is on top of him. Tao is curled up, watching them with slitted eyes. “I wouldn’t leave you to finish yourself,” Minseok whispers.
His tongue delves into Jongin’s mouth, and Jongin chases the taste of Tao, trying to lick all of it from Minseok. Tao’s chest rises and falls, content.
Minseok kisses down the side of Jongin’s neck, then his chest, but his hand doesn’t touch Jongin’s cock, heavy and hard between his legs. Jongin whines, trying to buck up, writhe against Minseok. But Minseok pins his hips down, and Tao moves in to distract Jongin with his mouth, playing with his nipples.
He pinches hard, just when Minseok fits his mouth around Jongin’s cock. It’s embarrassing to admit that it only takes a few sucks before he’s spilling down the back of Minseok’s mouth, crying into Tao’s mouth.
They try to arrange themselves in a way to avoid the wet patch, and in the morning, they wake up together. Tao whines, pushing them away. “Too hot,” he says. “Someone make breakfast.”
Minseok slides off the bed in the process, so he gets up, muttering. Jongin hears the bathroom door shut before he turns on Tao, kissing his cheek and forehead and nose. Tao smiles until he realizes that Jongin is avoiding his mouth on purpose. “Come back here,” he says, pawing blindly.
Jongin stands up and stretches instead. He pulls the curtains open in a sign of revenge, before going to the kitchen to make coffee.
Tao slinks in behind him, still discontent when Jongin refuses to kiss him before he’s brushed his teeth. Minseok laughs, listening to their squabbling. Tao is up and out of his chair before Jongin can even recognize that Minseok is done with the bathroom.
Minseok ruffles his hair with a cool hand. “Okay?” he asks, quietly. Jongin knows that Minseok will do anything Jongin asks of him. It’s heady, but at the same time scary.
“There’s no toilet paper in here!” Tao calls from the bathroom. “Can someone help me?”
There are too many ways to answer Minseok’s question, so Jongin tries to pick the one that suits the way he feels, right here, right now, the best. “I will be,” Jongin says, and he knows that that’s enough.
part four
The convenience store that Jongin worked at sat on the corner of two busy streets, so it wasn’t often empty. Still, there was nothing more boring than pretending to rearrange cough medicine, waiting for a customer to come up to the counter to be rung out.
The manager thought highly of Jongin, though, praising him for being a hard worker and always on time. There wasn’t much to it, though, so Jongin felt uncomfortable with both the compliments and the complaints of his coworkers.
Mostly Jongin felt tired. He didn’t expect to know what he wanted by now, either, but he had hoped to have a better idea. Instead, his feet just hurt and he worked overnight shifts that screwed up his sleep pattern. And he was still confused.
He also got into the habit of jumping when the bell on the door rang, because the convenience store was close to a local television news station, and once in a while reporters came in for aspirin or water bottles. He always hid in the back aisles, afraid that they’d recognize him some day. It was irrational and ridiculous, possibly even verging on Jongin thinking too highly of himself, but once in a while the articles popped up again. Sometimes there were even blurry pictures, and Jongin squinted, wondering if that really is his sweatshirt or some photoshopped image.
His coworkers just shrugged and carried on like normal.
There’s Taemin, who teased him for startling so easily, and Joy, who was even younger than him and still in high school. Amber was a student studying online for a computer science degree while she helped out her family during the day. Chilhyun was older than all of them, having worked through the ranks to become supervisor of the convenience store, but he acted like a kid most of the time.
Jongin was pretty sure that he didn’t want to be a manager and deal with annoying customers for the rest of his life. Taemin, who was working while taking the entrance exams again, shrugged. “Whatever works, works,” he said in response.
The bell rang and Jongin stopped fighting with the ticket gun to peer over the shelves. He needn’t have bothered. “Jongin, your boyfriend is here!” Amber called, the mischief apparent in her voice. Joy giggled.
Jongin checked his phone, but Minseok was always on time. He nodded at Minseok, who politely fended off Amber’s questions as Jongin collected the items from his locker into his knapsack.
“See you later,” Joy squeaked, before running away. Jongin and Minseok always waited to leave the store before squabbling over who exactly Joy had a crush on. Jongin was sure it was Minseok, but Minseok graciously said it was Jongin instead.
Minseok often picked up Jongin, wanting to continue their old tradition, he explained sheepishly. Minseok had found a small job doing art design for the local paper, but it was only part-time and so he was still looking around.
“How was your day?” Jongin asked, but Minseok was distracted and barely answered.
Instead, Minseok asked about Sehun. Sehun and Jongin still emailed, but their frequency had mostly trailed off. Sehun was busy with classes during the week and parties on the weekend, and Jongin just didn’t know what to say anymore.
Jongin didn’t say that, though. He had finally introduced the two of them after Sehun had whined; it was no surprise that they had hit it off right away. “He’s fine,” Jongin said shortly. “Busy with stuff, doesn’t email often, but I’m sure he’s okay.”
“I see,” Minseok said slowly. They talked a little about the weather, and how sunny it had been for the last few days; Minseok told him about a particular editor that had given him trouble about a layout that he had made. “Said it didn’t use the space allotted appropriately,” he said, grimacing. “I don’t think I can stand this job much longer.”
Minseok invited Jongin to his house, and Jongin agreed. He felt strange, making out like teenagers with Minseok in his bedroom, and he was sure that Minseok’s parents - and his own parents - knew.
Because he didn’t want to share Minseok. He wanted to hide their relationship, hide even Minseok away, because sometimes it felt like if people knew, if they were forthcoming and told their parents about it, that it would ruin everything. Jongin knew that his mother would be ecstatic, and his father, well, something. But he didn’t know how to explain the dread within him that maybe everyone’s expectations would mess them up.
He didn’t tell Minseok about it, in case Minseok thought he was crazy, or worse, childish. Jongin himself just chalked his apprehension up to some weird case of jealousy - but of what, Jongin wasn’t sure.
Minseok’s mother was a housemaker, and therefore home when the two of them entered. Minseok made no effort to excuse themselves to go upstairs as they normally did, so Jongin sat at the table with Minseok and his mother, talking about random things.
They mostly guided the conversation, looking to Jongin to comment from time to time. Minseok’s mother looked on fondly, and Jongin felt like he was pins and needles, about to fall and break something important. He didn’t know why - he had known Minseok’s mother since he was a child, of course.
Minseok’s father returned at about six, and Jongin said hello and then turned to Minseok. “I think I should be heading home,” he began.
“Jongin, stay for dinner-” Minseok’s mother offered, and Jongin was ready to decline.
But Minseok’s hand closed over his. “I wanted to tell all of you something,” Minseok blurted out, and Jongin was terrified that he was going to tell his parents about the two of them. Instead, Minseok said, “You know that post I interviewed for, at the museum in the city? They called back today and offered me the job.”
Minseok’s father was the first to react, clapping Minseok on the back. Then his mother wrapped his arms around him. “I’m so proud of you!” she exclaimed.
“Congratulations, hyung,” Jongin said, because Minseok was looking at him worriedly. At that, Minseok’s face smoothed into relief.
“You definitely have to stay now,” Minseok’s father said, and his mother chimed in until Jongin was seated at the table, a full plate of curry and rice sitting in front of him.
Jongin didn’t want to share, but how could he not when Minseok was leaving again?
They work in tandem, Jongin bringing the two of them back to the hill again before Tao takes them to the present. Jongin can barely note the darkening sky, the heavy clouds, before Tao is pressing up against a tree, kissing him again.
He pulls back when Jongin responds, though. Jongin’s skin feels raw, like he can feel all of Tao’s emotions boiling up with in him. It’s crushing, more than he can take.
“What time is it?” he asks.
Tao consults his watch, and just by the way his face falls, he knows that they are in trouble.
They run back through the town, breathless. Tao lets out a shout, and Jongin grins. But the gallery is closed, dark. The restaurant is the same. “He’s already gone home,” Jongin says.
Tao opens the door, and they get Jongin’s bicycle. Tao’s too heavy to sit on the handlebars or perch on the back, so they’re forced to walk. It takes too much time, more than Jongin is comfortable with.
Minseok is putting water to boil on the stove when they try to sneak in. “I didn’t know that you two were so close,” he says.
Tao freezes, and Jongin runs into him. They both glare at each other.
“Kyungsoo told me you both left very quickly, like you had something to do,” Minseok continues. “I thought I’d wait, but then I realized you weren’t going to be back for a while.”
Tao and Jongin look at each other. Jongin doesn’t know why, but he knows that this is something that he can’t tell Minseok about - not about the spontaneous kissing, but because it’s something he wants to keep between him and Tao.
“We wanted to get to know each other better,” Tao offers, but it sounds more like a question.
“That’s nice,” Minseok says, “considering I wasn’t sure that you were getting along.” Jongin winces at that. He knew that Minseok would have sensed the tension between them, but he hoped that for once, Minseok would turn a blind eye.
“Hyung,” Tao says playfully, but there’s a slight edge. “Say what you mean, otherwise Jongin and I won’t understand.”
Minseok’s shoulders brace, then lower. “It’s nothing. I’m glad that you two are getting along, now.” He turns and smiles at them. “So, where did you go?”
Tao looks at Jongin. But Jongin’s brain doesn’t seem to be working. “Just outside of town.”
“There’s a hill,” Tao supplies. “Jongin just wanted to show me the view from there.”
Minseok’s eyes flash briefly. He knows, Junmyeon must have told him, Jongin realizes. His heart sinks. Minseok must know that that’s Jongin’s place, where he always used to teleport from, where he practiced, where he got over his fear.
Jongin has never brought Minseok there. And Jongin knows that Minseok understands more than just the importance of the hill - he knows that Jongin brought Tao somewhere, somewhere Minseok has never been.
“Well,” Minseok says, turning away. “I hope it was a nice view, considering it got dark quickly after you left the gallery.” Minseok doesn’t say anything more, but Tao reacts like he’s been stung.
Tao looks at Jongin, but Jongin doesn’t know what to say. “Hyung,” he tries.
“Why don’t you two wash up?” Minseok says, spooning in coffee. Jongin is pretty sure that Minseok doesn’t need that much powder, but maybe Minseok’s not actually thinking about the amount of coffee he’s putting in the pot. “I’ll make some dinner for you guys, unless you’ve eaten something?”
“No,” Jongin says. “We haven’t.” At least that, he can tell Minseok truthfully.
“Good,” Minseok says. And that’s that.
Minseok is not good at talking up strangers, convincing them to buy paintings and sculptures. He is not good at convincing investors that the gallery is a worthwhile venture. But he is decent, and Tao’s photographs do the rest of the work.
Though having Tao himself there doesn’t hurt. He’s dressed in a nice sports coat and spends most of the evening flirting with women of all ages in the gallery, most of whom hail Minseok to fork an enormous amount of money over as soon as Tao slips away. Jongin doesn’t know what to make of it.
He’s a little dazzled by the lights and the sounds and the alcohol that Tao had pressed into his hands. The gallery has been fixed up well, and all the mismatched pieces that Jongin could see coming together, out of the corner of his eye, are so much more in the whole than they were as individual parts. The bronze light fixtures set off the frames, drawing attention to the art, as should be the case. The harsh footfalls of the guests on the pale hardwood almost echo the subject matter.
There certainly are no children here tonight, Jongin chuckles wryly to himself. He narrows his eyes at one painting, which appears to portray Tao seducing Cleopatra.
Jongin doesn’t know how Tao could stand her nose, large and bulbous. For art, Jongin imagines Tao saying shamelessly.
“Okay?” Minseok mouths at Jongin, from across the room, nodding distractedly at the woman standing next to him.
Minseok has said nothing of what had transpired between Jongin and Tao. But he has thrown himself almost punishingly into making the gallery into the best showcase for Tao’s art that he can.
Jongin wonders if Minseok is really asking for Jongin to save him from the woman instead. He gets up, but a hand wraps around his waist, pulling him close.
“Jongin,” Tao chides, “be nice and make friends.” He takes the drink in Jongin’s hand and tips it down his throat.
Jongin folds his arms. “You have to do that to make money. I’m just here to watch you flirt-”
“Ah, Mr. Huang,” they hear. A short middle-aged man shakes both of their hands.
Tao’s hand tightens around Jongin’s side. “He’s a prominent art critic. Don’t say anything, just smile.” Jongin plasters an uncomfortable grin on his face, but Tao has nothing to fear.
“Your art tonight is amazing!” He shakes off Tao’s thanks. “Truly inspiring, innovative. You’ve really broken the boundaries!”
Tao is blushing profusely, and Jongin thinks it’s hilarious. Then the critic turns to Jongin. “And this must be your muse! I think I saw him, in one of the studies?”
Jongin barely keeps himself from frowning. “Ah, no,” Tao says. “He’s the husband of the gallery owner, my friend.”
“Oh,” the critic says, abashed. “Well, good luck Mr. Huang. I look forward to what you will do in the future.” He waves a hand to them and walks away, joining another woman in the foyer who gives him a coat.
Tao quickly involves himself in another conversation, while Jongin turns, trying to look for Minseok. But Minseok is nowhere to be seen.
Or rather, he finds Minseok in a set of photographs. Jongin has not seen this Minseok for a long time; young and thinner, with more hair, to be honest. His smile is easy, and there are no wrinkles in his face. He stands by the edge of a fence, staring at another man, who Jongin recognizes to be himself.
It’s strange how people change in three years. Time had passed quickly, but now he realizes that maybe it has taken its toll on both of them in its wake. He looks at the pair of them in the first, staring sappily at each other as Minseok’s hand fumbles over Jongin’s.
Tao is nowhere to be seen.
In the second photograph, Jongin is staring out of the picture, as if he had seen the flash of the camera. Jongin racks his head, wondering if he had seen some kind of flicker of light that night. But there in the right hand corner, is Tao taking a disconnected selca of the whole thing. His eyes are bright and burning as they always are. But the illusion makes him appear to be looking at Tao, with the emotion that he had felt at the time for Minseok. That he still feels.
The set is titled The Bystander.
Jongin reels. It is one thing to know that Tao is a time traveler. It is another to think that he has seen the most private moments of Jongin and Minseok’s relationship. Jongin wonders if Minseok has seen it, if he knows what is hanging in his own gallery.
But he must have, for there is a hastily jabbed sticker on the title plaque, reading “Not for sale.”
Jongin doesn’t get a chance to ask Minseok about it for the rest of the night. As more stickers appear on the walls, listing some pieces as sold, others as being on hold, the crowd dwindles.
Tao cheers as he races around the gallery. “This is awesome!” he shouts.
Minseok sighs, head sinking into his arms on the bar. “I’m glad you think so,” he says, clearly tired. Jongin rubs his back, and Minseok curves into the warmth of his hand. Jongin’s stomach flips.
Junmyeon and Seohyun get up wearily and say their goodbyes. “It’s okay if you don’t show up tomorrow,” Junmyeon says blearily to Jongin, who blushes hard. “I’d understand.”
“Alright, it’s time to go home,” Seohyun says, hauling his arm over her shoulder. But she still smiles at Jongin, who tries to return the favor.
Only he personally watched Seohyun tip back an extreme number of shots, so he’s mildly bewildered as to how she’s still walking.
Krystal follows Kyungsoo into the restaurant, under the pretense of closing up. Minseok gets up and slams the door to the gallery shut when they start hearing inappropriate noises. “I don’t understand why he’s my partner,” he tells Jongin.
Tao’s suit is rumpled, and his hair is falling a little flat, but his grin cannot be repressed. “This is awesome,” he repeats, eyes glinting like the first time Jongin saw him.
“Yup,” Minseok says listlessly, staring at the ceiling.
“Don’t act like such an old man,” Tao chides. “Come on, let’s open a bottle of wine to celebrate!” He climbs over the bar, and Minseok doesn’t even stop him, only watching despondently as Tao pours a shaky three glasses worth of champagne.
“I hate champagne,” Minseok grunts. Jongin would beg to differ, consider what Jongin remembers of their wedding, but he merely takes the proffered glass, staring at the bubbles.
He listens to Tao, so high that Jongin thinks that he’ll probably never deflate. The alcohol improves Minseok’s mood, until he’s laughing at Tao and they’re telling stories about school again.
“Remember that old harpy Rho?” Minseok asks. “She hated how self-aggrandizing your work was.” He imitates the woman’s voice, but Jongin isn’t sure that any woman actually sounds like that.
Tao laughs. “What did she know, she liked Lee’s popsicle stick crap more,” he replies. Then his face twists and his voice arcs up primly. “They remind me of the phallic structures in the work of Edvin Öhrström-” and there is definitely no way that Professor Rho could have made a sound like that.
Minseok dissolves into laughter though, all the same. Rho sounds like a piece of work, Jongin has to admit.
“I always imagined making art with you,” Tao hiccups. “I didn’t really know how, because we use such different mediums, but I figured there would be a way. I’m glad that we at least did this, instead.”
Minseok falls silent at that. Jongin decides to gulp down some of his champagne. It’s flat now, after so long, but the rush is enough to drive any analytical thought from his head.
But the champagne’s not enough to make him forget when Tao leans over the bar and kisses Minseok full on the mouth. Minseok pushes Tao away quickly, wiping his hand over his mouth and glancing at Jongin. “What are you doing, Tao?” he hisses.
Jongin just sits on his stool, stunned. He feels hurt and jealous and strangely aroused all at the same time, a kaleidoscope of feelings fighting within him.
Tao barely looks at him. “Hyung, did you see the photo I put in?” he asks. “I added it, last minute. I wanted you to see it. I’ve thought about you, since school.”
He clearly cannot sense the anger rising in Minseok, but Jongin can. “Tao,” he tries to say. “I don’t think-”
But he doesn’t actually know what he was going to say, and Tao keeps going. “Hyung, I love Jongin.”
Jongin is not expecting Minseok to punch Tao in the face, but that is what Minseok does.
Minseok backs away, and Jongin tries to reach out to him, but Minseok shakes him off. And that hurts more than watching Minseok or Tao kiss, or Tao’s stupid black eye. It hurts when Minseok pushes him away.
“Not now, Jongin,” Minseok says, already moving way, out of Jongin’s grasp. “I can’t do this right now.”
And then he’s gone.
“Shit, that hurts,” Jongin hears, and sees Tao swiping a hand against the bruise and looking at it.
Jongin doesn’t care. “Why did you do that?” he asks.
“What?” Tao asks. And that’s exactly it. Tao has done too much to point to a specific moment where Jongin can say, here, here is you screwed everything up.
It couldn’t really be called a proposal, Jongin thought.
It was a few days after Minseok had accepted the job offer, and he had already been to see the nearby area, scouting for apartments and all the things he needed to live on his own. He had invited Jongin along, but Jongin had pretended that he couldn’t get someone to cover his shifts.
Sehun was already gone, and Minseok was leaving. Jongin didn’t want to make this about him, he wanted to be happy for Minseok, but a small part of him was angry. At Sehun, at Minseok, but most of all, himself.
Minseok had walked him home that night, and Jongin’s parents had invited him inside, but Minseok had politely declined. He was going to drive in to the city tomorrow, he explained, to fill out some paperwork that his employers had asked for.
That didn’t align with the text that vibrated Jongin’s phone at approximately 11:38 pm. Come down, it read simply.
Jongin peeked through the blinds to see Minseok’s father’s car in the driveway, the headlights cut so Jongin’s parents wouldn’t know. He put on a shirt and went downstairs, stuffing his feet in sneakers before locking the door behind him.
“You have a key, right?” Minseok asked, as he slipped into the passenger seat. Jongin gave him a look as he dangled the spare key in front of him. “Okay, okay,” he said, carefully backing out of the driveway.
He didn’t turn on the headlights until they were on the main road. Jongin didn’t ask what was going on. Minseok rolled down the windows as they drove, farther and farther into the countryside.
They were only ten miles from Jongin’s house, but Jongin had never been out this far. It made him uneasy as they passed houses and gas stations that Jongin didn’t know, even though Minseok never turned off the main road.
At last Minseok pulled into a construction site, stopping beside a white fence. The two of them got out and leaned against it, while Jongin waited for Minseok to speak.
“Jongin, I’m going to leave soon,” Minseok began, and Jongin’s fingers tightened in the grass.
Please don’t ask to break up, he thought silently.
“After what happened, you never left this town,” Minseok continued. “I know that you’re afraid to try new things, and that you don’t know what you want to do next. But I thought that while you decided - you could come with me, live with me.”
Jongin didn’t say anything. Minseok, obviously mistaking his silence, rushed on. “Our parents, they like the idea of us, they know about us. I think they’d let us go, if we asked, but we’ve known each other for such a long time. And I know that you’re young” -there it is again, that word, Jongin thought bitterly- “but I think we feel the same way. I think, that for me, you’re it. You’re the only one.”
Minseok swallowed. “I know that you know, in university, I met other people and did stuff. And Sehun’s told me about the girls and boys you dated.” Jongin’s head jerked up. “But you’re different, for me, Jongin. There can’t be anyone else.”
Jongin’s mouth wasn’t working, or else he’d have shouted “Yes!” at Minseok already.
“If you’re not sure,” Minseok said at last, “maybe we could try, three years? And then, if it isn’t working, we can go our separate ways.” He sighed out, and it sounded like torture. “But no matter what, Jongin, I will always be your friend.”
He thought of the snatches of Minseok he remembered as a child, older and taller in a red raincoat, showing Jongin how to make sandcastles with wet sand. He thought of the teenager who made time for Jongin, who was amazed by his coolness - who visited Jongin in the hospital after the “incident.” There’s the Minseok who played soccer and bought him bubble tea, and the one on the bus who had to relearn Jongin as a person when he returned from university. And then there’s this Minseok who Jongin had come to know over the last few months, who Jongin has come to love in his own way.
He wasn’t sure if his love was like Minseok’s love, whatever that was. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to get married, of all things. But he wanted to be with Minseok, and he didn’t think that was as childish as it sounded.
Still, his tongue seemed to be useless. He heard Minseok saying, “Jongin? Jongin?” but he turned his head instead, seeing a flash of light in the darkness. Probably a radio tower in the distance-
“Jongin,” he hears, but instead it’s Tao in front of him. “Are you alright? You look pale.”
Jongin glares at him, but it’s Tao, looking awfully sober. So instead he just gets a little teary-eyed, to his eternal horror. “Jongin, I’m sorry, please.”
Jongin looks around the gallery, at all of the photographs. But of all of them - “Why that one?” Jongin demands. “Why did you take a picture of us?”
Tao stares back at him. “Would you change that moment, if you could?”
Jongin hurts so much right now, and his hesitation is enough for Tao, who looks away. “I messed up,” Tao says, as if he can’t quiet himself. “I’m sorry.”
The restaurant is quiet. Kyungsoo and Krystal must have gone home, somewhere between glasses of champagne. “I remember the flash,” Jongin tells. “The flash of your camera.”
Tao takes a breath, then seizes hold of Jongin’s wrist. Instantly, he’s plunged into the time stream again, and it’s not so much as seeing Tao as feeling his presence. It’s so dark and claustrophobic, and Jongin senses that it must be in part due to Tao’s own emotions.
“Let’s go back,” Tao says. “To that moment.”
At first, Jongin doesn’t understand what Tao is asking, but then he does. He calls out to the space continuum, and they both gasp as the manifestations of their powers intertwine. The electricity of space meshes with the fluidness of time - it is both hot and cool, bright and dark, winding around them endlessly.
It is amazing, but Jongin is still sad that Minseok is not there. “Concentrate,” Tao says. Jongin can see him, his hair ruffling and sparkling with rush of the space current.
He blinks, and they’re feet away from his younger self and Minseok, sitting against the fence. “Jongin, I’m going to leave soon,” Minseok says.
Both Jongins close their eyes.
But Tao is a heavy warmth by his side. “I didn’t get it,” Tao says, and Jongin opens his eyes, focuses on Tao. “I didn’t understand why Minseok went home to be with you. I never told him how I felt, because it was always you. Everyone else was just a distraction.”
Jongin looks at him. “But you came back, to watch us?” It sounds like self-flagellation, for a crime never committed.
“I wanted to know what was so special about you, even more special than the art that Minseok made,” Tao says, watching the two by the fence talk quietly in the night, by the light of the car headlights. “I wanted to know why I lost to you. I watched you two, over and over. I was at your wedding, you know.”
Jongin tries to remember, a year after this day, greeting Tao in the receiving line with Minseok at his side. He can’t.
“I came back the night before, tried to pluck up the courage to say something - but nothing,” Tao says. “But I didn’t really understand, until I came to stay with you. I didn’t realize - in the gallery, I didn’t know it was you. Your hair is different. You walk differently now. I only knew when Minseok brought me to your house.
“I could tell your relationship was messed up, and I thought that it was the perfect opportunity. I took the picture - I accepted the gallery offer not only to help out Minseok, but to convince him to leave you.” It hurts Jongin to hear it, what he already knew. “But it didn’t work.”
Tao takes Jongin’s hand. “I still don’t really know enough to put it into words,” Tao explains. “But somehow I fell in love with you, so I must have understood it along the way.”
Jongin can only stare. “You love both of us?” Tao nods miserably. “And you watched us here, so many times?”
“Why are you so hung up on that?” Tao exclaims, frustrated.
Jongin laughs. “You stalker!”
“You asshole!” Tao replies, then covers his mouth in horror. Jongin can’t stop laughing. “Stop! You and Minseok will hear us!”
It’s too ridiculous. But then the younger Jongin’s head turns, and Tao dives on top of Jongin, bringing them both close to the ground. Jongin scans the tree line, looking, looking - there, by a thick copse, he can see a shape that looks suspiciously like Tao, dark and mysterious in that silly overcoat like before.
“Jongin? Jongin?” Minseok calls, and the younger Jongin slowly looks back. Tao and Jongin sit up, carefully pulling apart.
Tao looks at Jongin, waiting. This is the moment, Jongin realizes. The last moment Jongin can take to change the way everything happened, to erase the last three years and find himself when he goes back in a completely different life.
But for all Tao should understand about time, Jongin knows that if he said something now to his younger self, the place he would return to would not be the place where he would want to be.
He’s always known that he has to build that place for himself, but now Jongin understands more than ever.
He watches his younger self, paralyzed by fear. It was terribly unfair of Minseok to spring that kind of question on him, without some kind of warning, he thinks wryly.
He knows the exact moment that the coil unwinds, that the younger Jongin’s shoulders relax. “Yes. Yeah, let’s try.”
Beside him, Tao seizes his hand. Instantly Jongin calls out. The streams mesh, and Jongin has never felt like this before, like he can do anything.
He looks up to see Tao, eyes hurt as if someone has slashed at them. There’s a click in the back of Jongin’s head, and then Tao lets go of his hand and steps back. Jongin sees him, the breeze of the space current wrapping around him-
-and then he blinks and finds himself in the gallery, alone.
He’s angry at Tao for a second, before realizing that he needs to find Minseok if he wants to keep both of them.
Sunyoung lives alone, so Minseok wouldn’t have bothered her. And Kyungsoo and Krystal - Jongin shudders to think of going to their house.
That leaves Seohyun and Junmyeon. Jongin teleports quickly to their stoop, ringing the doorbell insistently. Junmyeon answers the door. “What’s the emergency?” he roars, scaring Jongin. Then he rubs his eyes. “Oh, Jongin. It’s you.”
“Is Minseok there?” he whispers.
Junmyeon looks back into the house, angling his head about. He seems to receive some sort of signal before he turns around again. “He’s not here.”
Jongin would normally quail at behaving in such a way towards his manager, but now he unreservedly stares at Junmyeon. Junmyeon slides out of the way.
Minseok is sitting on the couch with Seohyun. Seohyun, seeing the determined look on Jongin’s face, gets up and pulls an interested Junmyeon away with her upstairs. “Don’t stay too long!” Seohyun calls.
“And lock the front door behind you!” Junmyeon adds.
Jongin sits down next to Minseok, who is very interested in his hands. “You didn’t have to punch Tao,” he says. They might as well start somewhere.
“Yeah, it was stupid, I know,” Minseok says. “If you wanted to leave, there was - there’s nothing I can do to hold you back.”
Jongin bites his lip. “Tao kissed you, remember? He loves you, too.” Minseok looks up at him. “Three years is a long time,” Jongin says. “I didn’t know if we were going to keep doing what we were doing - because we couldn’t keep this up, not the way we were.”
Minseok nods. “We kind of lost track of things, didn’t we?”
“I said I’d try for three years,” Jongin says. “But three years has passed so quickly. I want to keep trying, because that’s all we can do, right?” There’s the beginnings of a smile on Minseok’s mouth. “But - we should change things up a bit. Start talking, for one thing.”
Minseok kisses him, and it feels like coming home, even though they are in Junmyeon’s dark living room with a saggy leather couch, a braided rug, and weird decorations on the walls that must be Seohyun’s contribution, because they sure aren’t in the store. “I know you like Tao as well,” Jongin says when they pull apart, but not far away from each other. He can barely see Minseok’s eyelashes. “I saw you together.”
“I saw you together, as well,” Minseok replies.
“Let’s try, again?” Jongin whispers, and he can feel Minseok nodding against his forehead.
The door clicks behind them as they walk to the edge of the street. “Hopefully he’s there,” Jongin says. “At home.”
Minseok concurs. “There’s nowhere else where I could imagine him being.”
But Jongin doesn’t want to walk. The amount of time it will take will be enough to give Tao time to leave. So he takes Minseok’s hand and plunges them both in the space stream.
The space stream can sense his impatience, but points out Minseok, who seems to be flailing in surprise. “Minseok, I’m holding on to you,” Jongin calls.
“Jongin?” Minseok says, calming down. And then Jongin can see Minseok, his bright eyes taking in the surroundings.
“This is what I see what I teleport,” Jongin says. And he can see the knowledge dawn on Minseok’s face, even as Jongin tries to keep down the crawling feeling on the back of his neck, the strange intimacy of the stream.
He brings them out in their own living room. Minseok steps backwards and falls on the coffee table. Jongin can’t help but snort, remembering before.
“Shut up,” Minseok says. “We’re not all dancers like you.”
“No,” Jongin agrees. “Some of us are old men.” He jumps out of the way of the kick Minseok aims at him.
A light flickers on in the kitchen at the noise. It’s Tao, the jacket removed and worse for wear. “I’m packing up,” he says. “Give me a minute, and I’ll be out of your way.”
“Wait, Tao,” Minseok calls. But Tao isn’t in the hallway. Jongin brings Minseok to the guest room, where Tao looks when they materialize. He puts down the shirt he was folding and sighs. “I’m sorry,” he says to Minseok. “I was drunk, and stupid-”
“I kissed you,” Minseok says. “Behind the shed, when we looking for some extra plywood. That wasn’t the only time, but it was the first time.”
Tao looks at both of them. Jongin turns to Minseok. “You should tell me about that, sometime,” he says. Minseok smiles, pleased to see Jongin’s spark back.
Maybe the disappointment Jongin always saw in his parents, in Minseok, wasn’t disappointment after all? Maybe it was love. Maybe it was worry. But never pity, or disapproval. Maybe they just wanted more for Jongin, because they loved him.
Jongin turns to Tao. “If I had changed our past,” Jongin says clearly, “you wouldn’t have been in our future. We wouldn’t have been together, like this.”
Tao is confused. “But that’s the point,” he says. “I wouldn’t have-”
“That wouldn’t have been where I wanted to be,” Jongin says. Minseok squeezes his shoulder; he gets it, Jongin realizes with delight.
Jongin hopes that Tao realizes the words mean exactly what they mean - nothing more, and nothing less. It took Jongin a long time to learn that, too.
Tao, however, is as dense as always. “I don’t get it.”
It is not because Jongin doesn't love someone, or loves more someone else. Jongin is just - finally - trying to be himself.
Minseok rolls his eyes. “We want you,” he says. “Isn’t that enough?”
They have been dancing around each other for so many weeks, that it makes sense when Minseok pushes the valise off the bed and presses Tao down on the bed. Jongin hesitates at the edge, watching them nip at each other’s mouths.
It would be easy to walk away, to say, “I made a mistake.” To avoid, inevitably, getting hurt.
But Minseok turns and looks at him. Tao opens his arms. “Jongin,” he says. “Come here.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” Jongin tells Tao. Minseok smirks; Jongin swallows. He’s seen that look too many times to not know what will come next.
It takes a few trials before they align themselves in a way that makes sense. Jongin jerks Tao off, slow and steady, while Minseok prepares Tao. It’s wonderful to watch the confusion on Tao’s face, the way he disintegrates as the pleasure catches up with him. He doesn’t know whether to buck forward into Jongin’s grasp, or sink back onto Minseok’s fingers. Neither give him a choice, stroking with their own rhythm.
“Four fingers,” Minseok says. Tao moans, feeling every bit as Minseok presses inside of him, searching for a way to make Tao scream.
Jongin watches the way Tao’s pupils dilate, how his head lolls on Jongin’s shoulder. “I think he’s ready,” he says to Minseok, who nods and removes his fingers.
Tao groans, but not for long. Minseok rolls Tao onto his side and slips into him with a single thrust that knocks the breath out of Tao’s lungs. Jongin follows, wrapping his hand around his cock and Tao’s, rolling up against Tao’s hips in a way that makes Tao choke.
It’s too slow for Tao’s liking, Jongin can tell. Minseok, however, is relentless, holding onto Tao’s hips so he can’t move as Minseok thrusts sharply, hard into him. Tao’s head flops down, his bangs covering his eyes.
Jongin kisses Minseok over Tao’s shoulder, tasting the urgency in Minseok’s mouth. He’s close, Jongin realizes, and speeds up the pace.
Minseok bites down on Tao’s shoulder when he comes, sending Tao in turn over the edge.
Jongin is still hard, and it hurts. He moves to stroke his own cock, flopping over onto his back, but Minseok is on top of him. Tao is curled up, watching them with slitted eyes. “I wouldn’t leave you to finish yourself,” Minseok whispers.
His tongue delves into Jongin’s mouth, and Jongin chases the taste of Tao, trying to lick all of it from Minseok. Tao’s chest rises and falls, content.
Minseok kisses down the side of Jongin’s neck, then his chest, but his hand doesn’t touch Jongin’s cock, heavy and hard between his legs. Jongin whines, trying to buck up, writhe against Minseok. But Minseok pins his hips down, and Tao moves in to distract Jongin with his mouth, playing with his nipples.
He pinches hard, just when Minseok fits his mouth around Jongin’s cock. It’s embarrassing to admit that it only takes a few sucks before he’s spilling down the back of Minseok’s mouth, crying into Tao’s mouth.
They try to arrange themselves in a way to avoid the wet patch, and in the morning, they wake up together. Tao whines, pushing them away. “Too hot,” he says. “Someone make breakfast.”
Minseok slides off the bed in the process, so he gets up, muttering. Jongin hears the bathroom door shut before he turns on Tao, kissing his cheek and forehead and nose. Tao smiles until he realizes that Jongin is avoiding his mouth on purpose. “Come back here,” he says, pawing blindly.
Jongin stands up and stretches instead. He pulls the curtains open in a sign of revenge, before going to the kitchen to make coffee.
Tao slinks in behind him, still discontent when Jongin refuses to kiss him before he’s brushed his teeth. Minseok laughs, listening to their squabbling. Tao is up and out of his chair before Jongin can even recognize that Minseok is done with the bathroom.
Minseok ruffles his hair with a cool hand. “Okay?” he asks, quietly. Jongin knows that Minseok will do anything Jongin asks of him. It’s heady, but at the same time scary.
“There’s no toilet paper in here!” Tao calls from the bathroom. “Can someone help me?”
There are too many ways to answer Minseok’s question, so Jongin tries to pick the one that suits the way he feels, right here, right now, the best. “I will be,” Jongin says, and he knows that that’s enough.